This morning I lay in bed late with the cup of tea that Lee brought up to me and his book of Roald Dahl short stories. I love lazy Sunday mornings.
We had our Sunday lunch at the Spinning Mill and when we came home, and he was settled in his spot in front of the telly, I went upstairs to potter a bit.
Then I was reminded that I'd wanted to get my old diaries out and put up some of the funnier entries, 'cos surely, there are some really funny entries.
But no...instead of cringe-y humour, they are filled with the biggest load of self absorbed rubbish anyone could ever have spewed out on to paper.
I'm so embarrassed.
And think I really ought to apologise to my ma and pa for being such a horrible young person. I can only imagine how annoying I must have been and how many sleepless nights I caused!
There're five A5 books covered in green paper and filled with too much detail on boring day to day events and nights out. Poems, and letters never posted and notes scribbled on bar receipts in pubs.
Maybe it's all still too fresh and maybe, when I'm sixty, I'd regret burning them, as I'd like to.
All I can hope is, that I wont look back on my blog, and feel the same way.