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

Everywhere I go, upstairs or down, they all cast admiring glances at my feet,
which are adorned by a pair of exceptionally beautiful (for times like these!)
shoes. Miep managed to snap them up for 27.50 guilders. Burgundy-colored suede and
leather with medium-sized high heels. I feel as if I were on stilts, and look even
taller than I already am.
Yesterday was my unlucky day. I pricked my right thumb with the blunt end of a big
needle. As a result, Margot had to peel potatoes for me (take the good with the
bad), and writing was awkward. Then I bumped into the cupboard door so hard it
nearly knocked me over, and was scolded for making such a racket. They wouldn't
let me run water to bathe my forehead, so now I'm walking around with a giant lump
over my right eye. To make matters worse, the little toe on my right foot got
stuck in the vacuum cleaner. It bled and hurt, but my other ailments were already
causing me so much trouble that I let this one slide, which was stupid of me,
because now I'm walking around with an infected toe. What with the salve, the
gauze and the tape, I can't get my heavenly new shoe on my foot.
Dussel has put us in danger for the umpteenth time. He actually had Miep bring him
a book, an anti-Mussolini tirade, which has been banned. On the way here she was
knocked down by an SS motorcycle. She lost her head and shouted "You brutes!" and
went on her way. I don't dare think what would have happened if she'd been taken
down to headquarters.
Yours, Anne
A Daily Chore in Our Little Community: Peeling Potatoes!
One person goes to get some newspapers; another, the knives (keeping the best for
himself, of course); the third, the potatoes; and the fourth, the water.
Mr. Dussel begins. He may not always peel them very well, but he does peel
nonstop, glancing left and right to see if everyone is doing it the way he does.
No, they're not!
"Look, Anne, I am taking peeler in my hand like so and going from the top to
bottom! Nein, not so . . . but so!"
"I think my way is easier, Mr. Dussel," I say tentatively.
"But this is best way, Anne. This you can take from me. Of course, it is no
matter, you do the way you want."
We go on peeling. I glance at Dussel out of the corner of my eye. Lost in thought,
he shakes his head (over me, no doubt), but says no more.
I keep on peeling. Then I look at Father, on the other side of me. To Father,
peeling potatoes is not a chore, but precision work. When he reads, he has a deep
wrinkle in the back of his head. But when he's preparing potatoes, beans or
vegetables, he seems to be totally absorbed in his task. He puts on his potatopeeling
face, and when it's set in that particular way, it would be impossible for
him to turn out anything less than a perfectly peeled potato.
I keep on working. I glance up for a second, but that's all the time I need. Mrs.
van D. is trying to attract Dussel's attention. She starts by looking in his
direction, but Dussel pretends not to notice. She winks, but Dussel goes on
peeling. She laughs, but Dussel still doesn't look up. Then Mother laughs too, but
Dussel pays them no mind. Having failed to achieve her goal, Mrs. van D. is