n.b. If the text is in italics, I'm blogging my reaction to reading back through my diary and seeing what I was up to 30 years ago. Quite shocked in some cases.
Tue 1: I'm in Norfolk with the family, which at this point includes a 1 year-old who isn't walking yet. Blimey, to think he got married a few months ago! My sister-in-law hints that there might be a sibling on the way. Blimey, to think she's getting married tomorrow! Wed 2: Woken by the fish van honking across the road on its weekly tour of the village. Those days of waking late, watching TV, reading the paper, chatting about the garden and getting a meal cooked for me felt so ordinary back then, and are so missed now. Thanks for the lift home Dad. Thu 3: Ham or Chelle? Ham. I got one chance annually to get it right and I blew it. Ooh, Suggs is performing a couple of songs in HMV. I was hoping for so much more today. And no I was never going to get away with it on the walk to the station. Fri 4: Try flushing my printer head but I only make it worse. How much!!! I know communication was difficult back then but it's incredibly hard to justify that total and for so little reward.
Sat 5: A man from the hire company comes round to upgrade my video recorder. The new one has Videoplus and an on-screen menu. I also have a new water meter fitted. You probably shouldn't have gone to the wedding, it could be considered stalking. Oh my god, it's BestMateFromSchool at the bar! But he's just moving on and we have nothing to say. I cannot believe you did that two hours later, it might be the most out-of-character daring thing you ever did, no wonder you eventually chickened out. Sun 6: I ring up the Ceefax Newsround Backchat line to leave a message about Hiroshima but I don't get on. It was an excellent year for dance music, I should have engaged more.
Mon 7:Actually I have already blogged this. I bought Alternative, the new album of Pet Shop Boys b-sides. It was £2 cheaper in Woolies than in Our Price. Tue 8: Very much taking the initiative at work. Later that horrible feeling when you realise everything in the washing machine is pink and it wasn't when it went in. That's a pair of jeans, several socks and two shirts ruined. I blame Millets. Wed 9: Replacement jeans cost £40. I bought the previous pair exactly a year ago, but the shop in Leicester where I got them has closed down. Stop staring, it won't get you anywhere. Thu 10: Spot a man from the cable TV company spraying colourful lines on the pavement outside the flat, so maybe it's coming soon. Oh god it's the night you went to that pub. Played pinball, lost one, won one. Felt a bit out of place but stuck with it, eyes opened. Fri 11: There isn't normally a cruise ship passing over breakfast. If nothing else it was quicker to get to the dentist. No fillings. The sad realisation that the bakery with the iced buns you've loved since you were a child is now a hairdressers.
Sat 12: Lunch is sausages. Best not obsess. Also that lie will come back and catch you out. Finish a Bunthorne. Television includes The Chart Show, Pets Win Prizes and Paula Radcliffe in the 5000m at the World Athletics Championships. Sun 13: Use a spreadsheet to help me deduce how the new-ish National Lottery divvies up its prize fund. I didn't because they wouldn't, but they could have and I wouldn't, and honestly it's so depressing reading this back and remembering you only get to be 30 once and essentially I blew it.
Mon 14: Ah, so it was the 99th Floor Elevators last night. I still love that record. ITV are showing Blade Runner and I was expecting to enjoy it more than I did. Tue 15: A particularly long document needs revising for work purposes, slog through Q3. I know you hate leaving answerphone messages but don't overthink this one, you're wasting your time anyway. Mmmm, lemon pepper chicken. Wed 16: It's Blur versus Oasis week with big displays in the record shop. Blur obviously. I take it back, the answerphone message worked! That may be a first. Thu 17: Woken by the sound of drilling as the cable company finally reach our car park. The bad thing about wearing shorts is forever worrying that something'll fall out of your bulging pockets (especially over water). Picked up some blank videotapes, an Argos catalogue and a Drop The Dead Donkey book. Fri 18: Mmmm, crispy pancakes. Yes, you have put on weight in the last year, but don't worry, you'll get it back down again in 25 years time. Tidy up and buy some grillsteaks. It's the over-optimism that kills you.
Sat 19: A second date! I don't normally get to a second date. Done and dusted in readiness. Aww, 99s by the river while talking aout swans. I confess I'm surprised that little white lie didn't blow it. Pizza and the VJ Day parade. Reading back I have to say I was rubbish at deciding how best to fill the time, but entertainment options were limited 30 years ago. Sun 20: Defrosted mash, anyone? It's easy after the event to read back the optimism and hope for the future in today's diary, all the musts and maybes and hopefullys, when the reality is that after the goodbye at the station you'll never speak again.
Mon 21: 43% of the way through my latest work project. Made a couple of caramel puddings and slipped them in the fridge. No, I refuse to write 1485 on my arm in marker pen. Tue 22: In celebrity news Robbie Williams is presenting the Big Breakfast this week and Dave Gahan has just tried to commit suicide. Oh look, not answering my messages. Wed 23: First day of rain this month! Do some tidying up and fill 6 bags with rubbish. Still nothing. Getting the hint now? Thu 24: In office gossip, apparently the boss is surprised I haven't moved on yet, but in a good way. It also sounds like he'd be amenable to a pay rise, which I will of course never ask for. Phone goes... No of course it isn't. Fri 25: Work interrupted by very large spiders. Spend 28 lines of today's diary mulling over the failed date situation in over-analytical depth, eventually drawing the correct conclusion from the parting words being 'Be good' as opposed to, say, 'Hey we really must do this again.'
Sat 26: The train to London is full of West Ham supporters returning from the Forest match. Oh my god, it's BestMateFromSchool at the bar! But we have even less to say than last time (and our paths will only ever cross again one more time). Take the tube replacement bus to Angel where my evening is essentially wasted. The key phrase in today's diary is 'social leper'. Sun 27: Challenge Anneka returns with a circus skills church conversion challenge. The internet is what's missing from 1995, I've decided.
Mon 28: What the early hours of bank holiday Monday confirm is that I can enjoy two hours on a dance floor if the music's decent (and it's 1995, so it is). Pass a fox on the walk home. The X Files is back, confirming that every vaguely-sci-fi show does a Voyager space probe episode eventually. Tue 29: It's jacket-on weather again. The lights in the entrance lobby have been blown for weeks, and today I finally work out they unscrew rather than needing to call the management company. My life is just work, food, TV and wistfulness at this point. Wed 30: Print out 110 sheets because the paperless office is a long way off. Last pointless attempt at ringing... no, it's the answerphone again. I take the hint, I give up. Thu 31: It's been England's 2nd driest summer on record. I've had a pretty dry time too, all told. I think of all my decades the 1990s was the least interesting, the least sociable and the least satisfying. Sadly I can't go back and try again but I can read all about it in phenomenal detail, and rest assured I have protected you from this.
