Written for the prompt Y is for Year
Why I Don’t Keep a Diary Any More
To track the year ahead of me,
I bought myself a diary.
Looking back now, it is clear:
This was not a good idea.
January – Tried to ski,
Ended up in A&E.
February – Valentine.
Not a single card was mine.
March – St Patrick’s celebrations.
Drank green beer, had palpitations.
April – Shakespeare’s birthday do.
Tudor banquet; went straight through.
May – Cheese-rolling down a hill.
Having physiotherapy still.
June – Went off to Glastonbury.
Slipped in mud and twisted knee.
July – Wimbledon’s blue sky.
Tennis ball smack in the eye.
August – Carnival, Notting Hill.
Dodgy street food; oh, so ill.
September – St Leger races.
Hoof broke foot in several places.
October – Fancy dress Halloween bash.
Make-up gave me nasty rash.
November – On Guy Fawkes’ Night,
Firework set my shed alight.
December – Christmas! So excited,
But, to parties, not invited.
Now, each diary page exists
Solely for my shopping lists.
© Carol Carman 2026
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