Diaries
There has been a great tradition of keeping diaries and journals for many centuries. Though they may seem at first glance, mundane, unimportant and even self indulgent they are extremely valuable historical documents. Compared to other source material, diaries are often unambiguous and can indirectly reference a wealth of important detail, providing a useful overview of the world at the time of writing. They reflect the perspective of ordinary people and everyday life, unencumbered by wider considerations faced by historians. For example, consider the diaries of Samuel Pepys or Anne Frank. There are also a lot of personal benefits to keeping a diary. They can help improve self-awareness, your memory and metacognition. They also provide stress management, reduce procrastination and have a positive effect upon one’s mental wellbeing.
The reason I mention all this is because I found a diary of mine recently, while going through my later Father’s paperwork. It was for the year 1977, when I was 9 years old. Needless to say, it was my Father’s idea for me to keep a diary. He felt it would improve my English skills and be “fun”. I personally didn’t have any inclination to do such a thing and I did so under duress. This becomes more apparent as the year progresses and the entries become shorter, less informative and increasingly indicative of a child who has no interest in what they’re doing. However, even as it is, I genuinely believe that there is some useful information to be found in my diary, although it is not there by intent. I frequently obliquely refer to things that were commonplace at the time, which are quite different now. The other thing that’s clear is that my family and I were very much a product of the times.
So exactly what revelations are hidden in my diary entries? Well being nine, naturally my school routine is referenced frequently. What stands out immediately is that corporal punishment was still common place in 1977. I refer to the Headmaster, Mr Green, caning several boys “who were naughty”. He would on occasion patrol the corridors of my junior school with a cane under his arm if he felt there was “mischief in the air”. Looking back now and assessing Mr Green with the eyes of an adult he was a Belfast Orangeman and militant protestant. He was often condescending to the female teachers and held exactly the sort of attitudes you’d expect from such a person from such a background at that point in time. Another interesting aspect of school which differs from now is the approach to exams and assessments. At the end of each term there were intelligence (IQ), mathematics and English tests. The results were read out in class in order of success, so everyone was acutely aware of the abilities of their peers.
In 1977 there were only three terrestrial TV channels available in the UK. Those channels did not run 24 hours a day and VCRs were not yet commonplace. Hence TV was considered a bonus leisure activity from a child’s perspective. I reference in my diary how I would rush home from school to watch Time Tunnel. I also mentioned watching The Six Million Dollar Man and Charlie’s Angels. However, reading was a major pastime and I would do so some nights instead of watching TV. Going to the library was a ritual and a source of great pleasure. One entry expresses my excitement of managing to secure three Asterix books. I also spent my pocket money on books. I would sometimes accompany my Father on a Saturday, while he did chores such as going to the butchers and paying the paper bill. Sometimes we’d visit a genre oriented book shop in Welling called The Edge of Forever. My Father would buy books by Isaac Asimov or Arthur C. Clarke, while I’d spend my money on Doctor Who novels (which were adaptations of episodes).
Going away on holiday during the summer was not a common occurrence for my family. My Father was refurbishing the house, a room at a time and hence this is where the household finances were focused. However, 1977 was an exceptional year and we spent 10 days on the Isle of Wight in a rental cottage. On mature reflection the self catering holiday was hardly a break for my Mother but the change of scene was welcome. It rained for 4 of the 10 days but we still managed to do quite a lot (although that is a relative term). I enjoyed the Blackgang Chine theme park and was traumatised by the spooky wax museum at Brading. The museum is not a pub and a restaurant but Blackgang Chine is still open. I saw a recent video of it on YouTube and it’s exactly the same. The diary notes that I lost a frisbee that was bought for me and was subsequently beaten. Raising a child in the seventies involved a surprising amount of casual violence.
My diary also reflects the social etiquette and culture of the UK at the time. For example my Father wouldn’t start mowing the lawn on a Sunday until after 11:00 AM. Sunday was a very dull day from a child’s perspective because nothing was open and it very much felt like the world had dropped down a gear. Reading through the year’s entries it becomes clear that myself and my sister were very self sufficient and made a lot of our own entertainment. We did go out as a family to parks, museums and such like during the school holidays but it was incumbent upon us not to bother the adults and expect to be entertained constantly. The phrase “I’m bored” was forbidden in our household as my Father would say “an intelligent mind is never bored”. The diary also mentions how in April we went to see the remake of King Kong. This is interesting insofar as it shows the time delays between international releases dates. The film was screened in the US in December 1976.
Children these days are superficially very worldly. The TV and internet brings them face to face with all the glories and iniquities of humanity as soon as they’re capable of looking at a screen. My diary entries reflect a less busy time and casts me in a very earnest light. I was a child and content to be one, judging by what I wrote. School was not a struggle for me and I did well academically at this point in my life. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed swimming but it appears to be an important part of my life, according to what I’ve written. I did guffaw hard at one particular entry in which I had a stomach ache after a meal and my Mother said with classic parental wisdom and authority that it was because I talked too much while eating. My diary also shows me how fortunate I have been and that by the standards of the time, I had a very happy childhood with two loving and supportive parents. Not everyone is fortunate.
