There was a thick fog this morning and when the sun finally won through the grass was sparkling with dew. When I took Peanut for his walk we went across the reserve up by the top shops. He was trotting along with his head down and when I looked closely, I saw he was lapping up the dew as he went.
These are the sorts of treasures that we found when clearing out Mum’s house after she passed away. Diaries dating back to 1949. Much of it was accounts of the day – and even at the time probably seemed more than a little mundane. But mundane things take on a sense of history with the passage of time – they reflect social norms and trends of the time.
Thursday 20 June 1950
Work. Typing. I had to type a telegram for Mr Newton at work. Went with Miss. Sweet to do the banking.
Diaries with references to the ‘new’ fountain at Mission Bay, with work colleagues referred to by their titles, movies that were seen, books that were read, news that made headlines (‘Princess Elizabeth had a baby girl’) all point to things that were a priority to a 17 year old girl in 1950.
At the end of the day, we don’t change an awful lot. How we communicate does.
Yesterday my Facebook status said ‘Going to the park without sunhats is a bad idea.’
Mum’s diary on the exact same day sixty one years ago said: ‘Wet day. Did some of my map. Went for a swim after dinner in the rain. It was good. Washed my hair. Listened to the games. Drew.’
Time may have passed, but whether its 2011, 1996 or 1950, and whether they are immortalised on thin lined paper, in an Anne Geddes diary, on a blog or Facebook page wall, they are still words and they still tell a story
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