Yes, I’ve started writing in my diary again. Well, it’s a new one. I found my old ones in a box in the attic when I was up looking for uncle Fester.

Yeah, I know; I did ask Jimmy to look for him, but he didn’t bother his hole. Don’t get me started.

Anyway, once I started reading my old diaries, I got completely lost in the past. Before I knew it I was twenty five again. In love, no kids, and living my best life. Two hours later when I eventually climbed down from the attic, I got a bit of a shock when I looked in the mirror.

Where was that carefree young girl gone? The girl with plans to travel the world with her best friend. The girl who laughed and sang and danced on tables. The girl with her whole life in front of her. All I could see now, was a middle aged woman with frown lines, wrinkles and droopy boobs. I had officially morphed into my mother, well, without the perm and the grey hair.

It was so nice travelling back in time, I decided to start writing again, to save more memories for when I’m older and can’t remember.

• What are you writing, Bernie?
• I’m journaling.
• What’s that then?
• It’s like a diary. I write down my feelings.
• So, basically talking to yourself on paper?
• Better than talking to the wall.
• Alright, Shirley Valentine.
• I write down other stuff too.
• Like what?
• Things that happen, things I see.
• Sure what happens around here? Dear diary, the postman called again today…more bills.
• Fuck off Jimmy.
• I’m only joking.
• you’re always only joking.
• I hope you’re writing nice things about me.
• I’m not writing a fiction novel Jimmy.
• Who’s joking now?
• You tell me?

If only he knew…