Diarium Absurdi
Diary of the Absurd
The old man who looked like God, was driving a Morris Minor Traveller. I was sitting on a boulder eating my packed lunch – cheese and pickle sandwich, fruit scone with butter and a flask of tea. My week-long hiking holiday in the Lake District was coming to an end. He stopped to ask the way to Grasmere. “That scone looks nice,” he said. I offered him half. “Thank you,” he said. Before driving away he gave me a book. “Here, take this, it’s a diary. Write in it when you can. Whatever you write in it, I’ll be able to read. It’ll keep me up-to-date with what’s going on in your part of the world.” He drove away chuckling.
On the cover is written: Diarium Absurdi (Diary of the Absurd). It’s full of empty pages – a somewhat heavy and voluminous notebook. That was over a year ago. I feel guilty that I haven’t yet used it. And then, the other day, I woke up with a pen in my hand – a wooden pen that was given to me at Christmas. I think my body is telling me to get on with it. So here goes. My Diarium Absurdi. Enjoy.