As a child, my sister and I would pester our parents for stories of when they were young. My parents narratives about their childhood evoked a sense of wonder that I hope never to lose, and when I think back to those anecdotes I have this wonderful sepia picture of what things must have been like.

My parents have recently been writing to us with recollections of their youth, partly to help us understand them better and partly because my father at least seems to enjoy the exercise and mental discipline of cataloguing these things. It’s wonderful for us to get a sense of our parents beyond our every day experience of them.

And so I wonder whether I should put down my childhood memories for Emily. As lives go, mine is one of tremendous consequence to me and my loved ones, but little to the world at large, but can’t help but feel that attempting to capture some kind of narrative beyond this brain-hopping bloggery would be a useful thing to do.

Has anyone else had a go at a private autobiography / journal for future generations?