“Work hard for what you want because it won’t come to you without a fight. You have to be strong and courageous and know that you can do anything you put your mind to. If somebody puts you down or criticizes you, just keep on believing in yourself and turn it into something positive.”

Leah LaBelle



When I was at boarding school between the ages of 11 – 18 I started to write a five-year diary. Every single night before I went to sleep I wrote about what had happened at school and during my holidays. In total, I wrote two 5 year diaries but didn’t finish the second one.

When I look back at my entries on events and my school days it brings back happy memories of my childhood. As far as memories are concerned I’ve never been good at remembering things. I was pretty hopeless at school work and in particular exams.

My parents never used to make me feel I was useless even though my grades were average and my sister was streets ahead of me. I have always told myself that you were either born with a photographic memory or not. Looking into my school diaries brought back the photo in my head of each event.

Halfway through my second five-year diary, I went on a shorthand and typing course which was to be my line of work. It wasn’t long before I was writing nightly in my diary in shorthand. The problem now is that I have also forgotten how to read shorthand. The odd word comes right out at me but there are two years of diary entries that I cannot read.

I was watching a program on the television and one of the contestants had written a diary every day for as long as he could remember. He said he not only entered his own news but also any news that was going on in the world and his grandchildren can now read his life story and stories of life during his years.

It made me think again about how much I used to enjoy writing my diary and thought I should give this a go again. My children are always asking questions about things which I cannot always remember about but I am sure if I ask my sister I can fill the gaps in my mind and make a note in my diary for next time.

My handwriting now is a spit of my Dads handwriting and isn’t brilliant at the best of times but I can still type at a reasonable speed, but there is something about a proper pen to write with that brings back lovely memories.

I’ve actually always enjoyed writing even though I didn’t get a GCSE in English and have written and self-published a few books. I wrote one for both my children when they reached 30. They were a memory book of their life from when they were born and some information on my life and their father’s life and it included over 250 photos of where they had been and what they had done in their first 30 years of life. They both treasure the books and would love me to do more writing on the family.

My mother-in-law also wrote her life story as a Physiotherapist during the war which she gave me before she died and asked me if I could get it published. It was 240 pages of writing without any paragraphs or chapters but I persevered and published it a couple of years ago to my children’s delight.

Memories are made for keeping but if your not the brightest button in the pack a lot of your memories just disappear. I hope this post will inspire others to give it a go and get their brain juices in action and enjoy writing a diary on their life.



Diane had no idea where he had come from. But, whoever he was, he was charming.

He was short, stocky and handsome.

It was a friend who suggested she met him. She had been looking for a while.

She knew that once she met him, she would have to have him.

He was nothing like Jack though, this poodle was very well trained….


via Daily Prompt: Cling

From the way he was looking at me I knew, as clearly as if he’d said the words, that my son’s name was one of them. I could only cling onto a slight bit of hope in my heart that I was wrong.

Dam, dam, dam that war. I wanted to shout and scream but instead I began to cry, very hard still clinging on that they could be wrong.



Something terrible has happened. I can scarcely bring myself to write the words. I just can’t believe it. I mean who would have thought she would have gone ahead with it.

Her boobs were big enough anyway…….



Time to leave, anchors up !

I sat in the forward lounge with a glass of something congenial in my hand. I’d taken the usual pills to stop me from being sea sick.

The skyline swiveled gradually past the nearest window.

A couple of drinks and hours later I got up to see where we were but all I could see was a car park…





Her watch had stopped so she began to wonder if it was so early after all.

There were people passing and some traffic.

And then she heard a noise, footsteps along the wide entrance hall outside her door.

Her heart was beating fast.

But, the footsteps carried on past her door again.