When I began writing – twenty five years ago now – one of the most touted pieces of advice was to keep a diary. I duly took note, and for the next few years diligently logged everything that took my fancy. It wasn’t very time consuming, maybe 25-20 mins every evening. However after a few years the novelty wore off and in time the diaries were completely forgotten, only re-surfacing recently when I was having a bit of a tidy-up. What did I deem worthy of inclusion in those far-off days?   The first entry is headed ‘Dreams Only In The Front’, and I recall being impressed with some woman writer  who suggested that dreams are the fount of all good writing, and  that we writers should keep a diary of all our dreams. Here is the first one I logged, dated 27/1/91;  I am travelling as a pillion passenger with the…