Tag Archives: memories

Amelia Unedited

I was writing in my diary today – I need to do this before I set about ACTUALLY writing, to clear the layer of mental grime that collects routinely and needs to be scooped out. I sometimes feel a touch of…guilt? That my diary is such a collection of superficial ridiculous thoughts, when so many great thinkers use their journals to document all things profound and witty. I’m sure the content of my diary aged 8 is the same as aged 28, my mother doesn’t annoy me as much but that’s about it.

Anyway, I was just documenting last night’s adventures at some warehouse in Dalston, when I decided to flick back to the part of the diary I never look at, the Golf-Boy section.  I’ve thought of him a lot over the last week, even writing to a friend yesterday that I miss him like crazy and would do anything to go back to this time last year.  Well, thanks to my diary, I could. It really wasn’t what I was expecting.

Sunday 28th 2010

On Wednesday had an argument with him because he invited me to his friend’s birthday but insinuated I’d be going home alone. It worked out fine in the end, but ended up at THE most boring party with his BORING friends, was literally falling asleep and then there was Monday night when I was so bored I went downstairs to write on my own. What is this saying to me? Am I holding onto something that really doesn’t mean that much to me? I’m going to note down every time I leave him feeling happy and every time I leave him feeling sad starting with this morning


Why? Because he rushed off to his friend’s house instead of wanting to spend the day with me

Because he made a joke about Claude being dead when I was genuinely worried about her not calling all weekend – he’s immature and insensitive!

He left me to walk home on my own

He’s so damned prissy!!!!

Because he has no interest in the homeless shelter, and won’t donate a PENNY!!!! (less to spend on what? Golfclubs? His stupid cooking spices? That god-damned Le Creuset frying pan?!  He’s STINGY!)

Because he doesn’t know me at all. And now I think I don’t want him to.

He doesn’t think about anything

He questions NOTHING

He exists in this little world, this little blinkered world




Sport!!!!!!!!! Nothing matters!

What it comes down to, in 10 years, will I look back and see him as the love of my life?


It’s funny, the things you remember, and the things you forget. Last night Claude told me about a random memory she had of being six years old and naming each newt in her friend’s pond. There were eighty five newts in total that she remembers fishing out of the pond and putting into a bucket before proceeding to ‘christen’ each one with a name and plopping it back in the pond. The memory forms part of her story of childhood, I’m sure she can’t remember what she had for dinner that day, but the newt naming ceremony will remain with her always.

Perhaps we all write a kind of mental autobiography of our life, where we pick the best bits, how we want to remember things.

When I was thinking of this time last year, I wasn’t thinking of Nov 28th 2010, because I’d already forgotten it. The memory I had was actually November 14th 2010, a day I remember clearly… not so much the details but just the way I’d felt. I’m glad, that of all the memories, I chose to keep this one.

So…it was all in my head, and I need to remember this moment and make sure I NEVER act like such a tit again.

Had a really nice time with him over dinner tonight , we shared a pizza and I had a glass of rose, we talked about all kinds of random things…

What would it be like if we woke up tomorrow and men wore women’s clothes while women wore men’s…what if women used urinals?

He walked me home pointing out a dog with a really fluffy bum. We laughed.

Outside my front door, we hid under cover from the rain and he bent down and kissed me. I could hear the sound of the rain on the road

It was magical

Whenever he kisses me it’s magical

I want to always remember that I once felt this way about him no matter what happens

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