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Thirty years ago, while making a film for television about a Yorkshire farm labourer called Fred Kitchen (who was born in 1890) Fred’s surviving family arrived on location with a large cardboard box, containing some thirty neat volumes of diaries covering near fifty years of his life, up to his death in 1969. I was the writer of the film, having suggested Fred’s autobiography ‘Brother to the Ox’ to Yorkshire Television. The diaries (which I read and noted during a memorable week) dealt with his adult life, which he had skated over in his autobiography. I found them very moving – I taped extracts - felt privileged to be reading them: little red bound Memo notebooks, in neat legible handwriting. I have one of them in front of me as I type this.ÌýÌý

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I was busy with other scripts, other films, and then my notes and tapes of Fred’s diaries went into storage along with other research materials for a number of years. I never forgot them but couldn’t see how to proceed. And then, a few years ago, having turned to radio and written a couple of what are now known as 15 minute dramas -Ìý and enjoyed the experience - I heard, in that same ‘Woman’s Hour’ slot, a serial from the recent past about a young gay man from Nottingham – diary form, low key, and, to my ears, riveting. I’d not clocked this strand ‘Writing the Century’ before. I listened again to my tapes of Fred’s diaries. Though read in neutral style, and interrupted with many clicks from the tape recorder’s on/off button, I could see the shape of a five part week long serial.