Two summers ago, during the Proms season, I was asked to speak on the radio about Sylvia Plath. It was the middle of June and I thought, 'I'm not doing another Plath and Death Routine, not on the radio, not with my dad tuning into the concert after.'
This month was my birthday, and in order to console myself from dark thoughts On Aging as a Woman I decided to read over some bits of Sylvia Plath as a teen, from her diaries, because she is so darn funny, or absurd, which is at least part way to funny.
I roped my friend Ben, another Plath fan, into a little pod-cast style chatter. This is us in the salon of my narrowboat on the River Isis (Plath's favourite goddess was Isis: good choice: as an Egyptian she had several lives).
We're discussing Sylvia Plath's late teen diaries and we seem to be funding them v funny: because they are. And I'm afraid they inspired us to a few routines.
Happy Late Summer!
The Private Life of the Diary will be with you at the beginning of next year, and in the shops after that.
All the best,
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