The Diary Angels
(Illustration by Lawrence Gullo).
This isn’t my idea. Honest. Victoria Mary Clarke suggested it over lunch one day. And then I received an email from reader Mike Morris, proposing the same idea. He also suggested the amount.
If you have enjoyed this site and the diary, please consider making a donation using the PayPal button below. Amounts over £10 enroll you into the Diary Angels. For full details, see the Angel Pledges below.
THE DIARY ANGELS
My thanks to everyone below, and to those who donated anonymously. If I’ve left your name out, please let me know.
Victoria Mary Clarke
Jeremy Dennis – for art services
Francesc Ara Franco
Brian & Lynne Edwards
Rob James, close-up magician
Michael J Maciolek
Rhodri Marsden – for Internet hosting services
Neil Scott – for website building services
Anna Spivack – for haircutting services
THE ANGEL PLEDGES (revised June 2014)
I, Richard “Dickon” Edwards, being of almost sound mind and body, hereby make the following Pledges to my Diary Angels.
1. I pledge to write a weekly diary update, ideally comprising about 1000 words.
2. I pledge to treat it as if it were a proper diary, rather than a blog.
3. I also pledge to be my own brutal whip-cracker of an editor, my own tutting sub-editor and my own wary libel lawyer.
4. I pledge to write as if the whole world is reading, and as if whole worlds to come are reading too. I do not believe in ‘Friends Only’.
5. All writing, if it is any good, is about inviting all possible readers for a one-to-one dance.
6. The Diary Angels scheme might be seen as:
(a) A vote of support for the penurious Mr Edwards and his diary.
(b) Sponsoring A London Dandy.
(c) A Tip Jar.
(d) Keeping Mr Edwards on the Straight and Narrow. Well, out of Trouble, anyway.
7. I pledge to sit up and listen to the Angels if they have comments about the Diary. Within reason.
8. As a Sponsored Dandy, I pledge to maintain my appearance with the diligence and zeal of any other worker’s uniform.
9. I will nag myself to keep the diary updated, and strive to eschew self-indulgence or baffling references of little import to the wider world.