The Diary of a Nobody

Being the modern day record of Charles Pooter VI -
direct descendant of the 19th Century original

Saturday, December 26, 2009

I didn’t get much sleep last night. I never do in a strange bed. I had a bit of heartburn (hardly surprising at this time of year). We came home in the evening. Lupin got back late. He said he’d had a great time, and added “I’m fit as a fiddle. Almost as good as a stradivarius. Awesome”. I’ve given up trying to work out what the hell he’s talking about half the time.

Why shouldn’t
I publish
my diary?

I often see memoirs by people I’ve never even heard of and I don’t see why my diary should be any less interesting, just because I’m not a ‘celebrity’. I only wish I’d started it when I was younger.