My brother remembers a ritual - never witnessed by me - which he called the Reading of the Diaries. Grandma and Grandpa each kept separate diaries, and of an evening would sometimes entertain themselves by reading out loud to one another what they had recorded on that very week several years previously. The entries were apparently of considerable banality but frequent disagreement. Grandpa: 'Friday. Worked in garden. Planted potatoes.' Grandma: 'Nonsense. "Rained all day. Too wet to work in garden."'
from Nothing to Be Frightened Of
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