![]() ![]() ![]() I love this quotation from Richmal Crompton’s novel ‘The Gypsy’s Baby’, she even got the name right: “Simon was at the age when he imagined that everyone around him took an intense and generally malevolent interest in his doings.” Well, that was me, I daresay. I was 15 when I started writing them, remember. Now, I would hate, hate, hate for anyone to read them – and I imagine anyone else would hate, hate, hate to be put through the experience. I’ve kept a journal since 2001 – they are all spread out in that picture up there. You see, there I go already, recommending things I’m not *quite* sure I feel comfortable reading. For some in this ilk, look out for the letters of Joyce Grenfell and Virginia Graham or Nancy Mitford and Heywood Hill. I mean published ones, of course – I would never commit such a violation as to read a friend’s diary or journal… but why do we make the distinction here? Because the author is dead? Because they are a stranger? Because they are famous? Hmm… You see, the difficult thing is, I love reading diaries of people – and letters, especially if a book has the correspondence between both, er, correspondents. I don’t know about you, but I always feel in some sort of quandry when reading someone else’s diaries. ![]()
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