I’ve just come across a diary I wrote between the ages of about eighteen and early twenties… To begin with I can’t remember half the things I’m referring to, or the people I’m talking about, or the different boys and lads I was so in love with! I always look back and think of myself as happy, and despite a few sad things which happened, on the whole to have been happy! Not according to my diary! I seem to have spent a lot of time being dramatic and sorry for myself, and feeling aggrieved over various things… really? Was I?
While I was in the sixth form, when I was writing the first part of this, I did have a lot of rejections from Universities and other places I wanted to study, such as a journalism school, and I did struggle with having moved from Cambridge where I’d lived all my life and had so many friends as well as the great social life the swimming club gave me. On the other hand I seem to have been writing a lot, but writing poetry, and improbable short stories.
I have now thrown away all the ghastly poetry,and the embarrassing diary…. one little thing I will treasure from it, something which I had totally forgotten, I saw Frank Zappa performing live in Bristol! A legend!
Lois Elsden 
You had to go through those stages to evolve into who you are now. Trouble is when we get old enough to think we have it all figured out, nobody seems to care or wants to listen anyway. In my case at least. Such is life.
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