Observations on new year diaries

Is it life imitating art imitating life imitating art? Or art imitating life imitating art imitating life? Whatever, but does anyone else see the ridiculousness in there being a calendar available of Calendar Girls, the film about the nude calen-dar made by the Rylstone Women's Institute? Whatever next? A calendar of women from Rylstone pretending to be the actresses who are pretending to be the women who were in the original calendar?

I do hope, as you enter the new year, that you have the right sorts of calendar and diary. You have to look at a calendar the whole year - if you're a dog lover, it's a hard cross to bear when someone buys you a calendar with pictures of fluffy kittens.

Diaries present two dilemmas. First, do they provide useful information? I am particularly taken this year with a desk diary I've been sent - it has a cushioned cover and gilt-edged pages. A handy international chart tells me that Norway has public holidays on 1, 17, 29 and 31 May, while New Zealand has no public holidays at all in that month. Should I wish to know the average daily high temperature in June in Burkina Faso, I can find that out, too (31 Celsius, if you're interested). There is also a very helpful map of the National Rail network, including details of how to get to London's main stations.

This last detail is missing from the small pocket diary I have received from the RMT rail union. Perhaps it is assumed that RMT members already know where London's main stations are. But this diary does give me the rules of debate for RMT meetings and the structure of the union.

I am also pleased that I now know how to convert gallons per mile into litres per kilometre (multiply the former by 2.825) and that should I need to know the best vintage of a North American Cabernet Sauvignon, or of any other kind of wine from any other country, I now have a handy chart that will tell me.

The second diary dilemma is what information to write in it. My diary lives on my office desk and I am always aware that any colleague wishing to check whether I am available for a meeting at a specific time may decide to look in it. So there are certain appointments I would not dream of writing in my diary. I don't mind, for example, my bosses knowing that I have an appointment at the dentist or for a drink with a friend. I would be less keen, however, on them knowing about a trip to the family planning clinic or a date with a new beau. Therefore I have developed an intricate system of symbols for such appointments so that only I know what they are. But when I forget what my symbols mean I am in danger of turning up somewhere inappropriate - "What, we had a date? Are you sure? I thought my diary said I was having a smear test."

Perhaps I should write in normal English, but get one of those little diaries with a lock on it. Then the only problem will be remembering where I keep the key.

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