Just began the second volume of Michael Palin’s diaries, which span the eighties. In his introduction Palin says:
If this were a history, or an autobiography written in the future looking back, I feel sure the temptation would be to impose order and reason and logic … to detect themes and trends that led in one direction, in other words to make sense of it all.
But diaries don’t allow such luxuries. The events of everyday life are by their nature unpredictable, not at all at ease with the order that we crave as we grow older. Meaning changes, slips, adjusts, evolves. Narrative exists only in it’s most basic sense.