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

Beside her -- Mama. Has a hearty appetite, does her share of the talking. No one
has the impression, as they do with Mrs. van Daan, that this is a housewife.
What's the difference between the two? Well, Mrs. van D. does the cooking and
Mother does the dishes and polishes the furniture.
Numbers six and seven. I won't say much about Father and me. The former is the
most modest person at the table. He always looks to see whether the others have
been served first. He needs nothing for himself; the best things are for the
children. He's goodness personified. Seated next to him is the Annex's little
bundle of nerves.
Dussel. Help yourself, keep your eyes on the food, eat and don't talk. And if you
have to say something, then for goodness' sake talk about food. That doesn't lead
to quarrels, just to bragging. He consumes enormous portions, and "no" is not part
of his vocabulary, whether the food is good or bad.
Pants that come up to his chest, a red jacket, black patent-leather slippers and
horn-rimmed glasses -- that's how he looks when he's at work at the little table,
always studying and never progressing. This is interrupted only by his afternoon
nap, food and -- his favorite spot -- the bathroom. Three, four or five times a
day there's bound to be someone waiting outside the bathroom door, hopping
impatiently from one foot to another, trying to hold it in and barely managing.
Does Dussel care? Not a whit. From seven-fifteen to seven-thirty, from twelvethirty
to one, from two to two-fifteen, from four to four-fifteen, from six to
six-fifteen, from eleven-thirty to twelve. You can set your watch by them; these
are the times for his "regular sessions." He never deviates or lets himself be
swayed by the voices outside the door, begging him to open up before a disaster
occurs.
Number nine is not part of our Annex family, although she does share our house and
table. Hep has a healthy appetite. She cleans her plate and isn't choosy. Hep's
easy to please and that pleases us. She can be characterized as follows: cheerful,
good-humored, kind and willing.
TUESDAY, AUGUST 10, 1943
Dearest Kitty, .
A new idea: during meals I talk more to myself than to the others, which has two
advantages. First, they're glad they don't have to listen to my continuous
chatter, and second, I don't have to get annoyed by their opinions. I don't think
my opinions are stupid but other people do, so it's better to keep them to myself.
I apply the same tactic when I have to eat something I loathe. I put the dish in
front of me, pretend it's delicious, avoid looking at it as much as possible, and
it's gone before I've had time to realize what it is. When I get up in the
morning, another very disagreeable moment, I leap out of bed, think to myself,
"You'll be slipping back under the covers soon," walk to the window, take down the
blackout screen, sniff at the crack until I feel a bit of fresh air, and I'm
awake. I strip the bed as fast as I can so I won't be tempted to get back in. Do
you know what Mother calls this sort of thing? The art of living. Isn't that a
funny expression?
We've all been a little confused this past week because our dearly beloved
Westertoren bells have been carted off to be melted down for the war, so we have
no idea of the exact time, either night or day. I still have hopes that they'll
come up with a substitute, made of tin or copper or some such thing, to remind the
neighborhood of the clock.