THE DIARY OF A YOUNG GIRL : THE DEFINITIVE EDITION ... - Fidele

Miep drank ten schnapps and smoked three cigarettes -- could this be our
temperance advocate? If Miep drank all those, I wonder how many her spouse managed
to toss down? Everyone at the party was a little tipsy, of course. There were also
two officers from the Homicide Squad, who took photographs of the wedding couple.
You can see we're never far from Miep's thoughts, since she promptly noted their
names and addresses in case anything should happen and we needed contacts with
good Dutch people.
Our mouths were watering so much. We, who'd had nothing but two spoonfuls of hot
cereal for breakfast and were absolutely famished; we, who get nothing but halfcooked
spinach (for the vitamins!) and rotten pota- toes day after day; we, who
fill our empty stomachs with nothing but boiled lettuce, raw lettuce, spinach,
spinach and more spinach. Maybe we'll end up being as strong as Popeye, though up
to now I've seen no sign of it!
If Miep had taken us along to the party, there wouldn't have been any rolls left
over for the other guests. If we'd been there, we'd have snatched up everything in
sight, including the furniture. I tell you, we were practically pulling the words
right out of her mouth. We were gathered around her as if we'd never in all our
lives heard of" delicious food or elegant people! And these are the granddaughters
of the distinguished millionaire. The world is a crazy place!
Yours, Anne M. Frank
TUESDAY, MAY 9, 1944
Dearest Kitty,
I've finished my story about Ellen, the fairy. I've copied it out on nice
notepaper, decorated it with red ink and sewn the pages together. The whole thing
looks quite pretty, but I don't know if it's enough of a birthday present. Margot
and Mother have both written poems.
Mr. Kugler came upstairs this afternoon with the news that starting Monday, Mrs.
Broks would like to spend two hours in the office every afternoon. Just imagine!
The office staff won't be able to come upstairs, the potatoes can't be delivered,
Bep won't get her dinner, we can't go to the bathroom, we won't be able to move
and all sorts of other inconveniences! We proposed a variety of ways to get rid of
her. Mr. van Daan thought a good laxative in her coffee might do the trick. "No,"
Mr. Kleiman answered, "please don't, or we'll never get her off the can.
A roar of laughter. "The can?" Mrs. van D. asked. "What does that mean?" An
explanation was given. "Is it all right to use that word?" she asked in perfect
innocence. "Just imagine," Bep giggled, "there you are shopping at The Bijenkorf
and you ask the way to the can. They wouldn't even know what you were talking
about!"
Dussel now sits on the "can," to borrow the expression, every day at twelve-thirty
on the dot. This afternoon I boldly took a piece of pink paper and wrote:
Mr. Dussel's Toilet Timetable
Mornings from 7: 15 to 7:30 A.M.
Afternoons after 1 P.M.
Otherwise, only as needed!
I tacked this to the green bathroom door while he was still inside. I might well