Who needs a diary? I’m 25. I think I can remember what I’m supposed to be doing every day.

Posted on December 11, 2011


I’ve always had a great memory. As I write my blogs, I am recalling some brilliant stories I want to share with you, but this blog is about the day I realised that a good memory wasn’t enough at work, I really needed a diary.

I was 25. Working in my first job as a tourism officer.  Life was great, I didn’t have ‘appointments’ or ‘meetings’, the boss did that, I just did the work. I loved it.  As you can imagine, I was delighted to be contacted by someone bringing a group of French teachers to the City to have a look at the Cathedral and one of the destination’s leading attractions.

I immediately wrote back to them.  (Oh yes, this story pre-dates emails, blackberries and mobile phones in local government). I would be delighted to meet them on the day in question.  Sorted.

Imagine my horror the day following the proposed meeting, when I realised I had forgotten to meet them.  I sat at my desk, head in my hands, wondering what I should do.  I decided to do the brave thing, and have a think about what to do over the next few days.  Courage can’t be rushed.

Imagine my delight when I received their letter the next day: ‘We are so sorry we were unable to make the meeting, the weather was terrible and we had to cut our visit short’.

Lesson learnt. Diary purchased the next day, and replaced every year.  I knew I wouldn’t be that lucky twice.  20 years on, I sometimes can’t even remember why I went upstairs, let alone pretend I don’t need to keep a diary!

Posted in: Being a Monkey