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

Most of the time the tickle refused to go away, so I had to drink milk with honey,
sugar or cough drops. I get dizzy just thinking about all the cures I've been
subjected to: sweating out the fever, steam treatment, wet compresses, dry
compresses, hot drinks, swabbing my throat, lying still, heating pad, hot-water
bottles, lemonade and, every two hours, the thermometer. Will these remedies
really make you better? The worst part was when Mr. Dussel decided to play doctor
and lay his pomaded head on my bare chest to listen to the sounds. Not only did
his hair tickle, but I was embarrassed, even though he went to school thirty years
ago and does have some kind of medical degree. Why should he lay his head on my
heart? After all, he's not my boyfriend! For that matter, he wouldn't be able to
tell a healthy sound from an unhealthy one.
He'd have to have his ears cleaned first, since he's becoming alarmingly hard of
hearing. But enough about my illness. I'm fit as a fiddle again. I've grown almost
half an inch and gained two pounds. I'm pale, but itching to get back to my books.
Ausnahmsweise* (the only word that will do here [* By way of exception]), we're
all getting on well together. No squabbles, though that probably won't last long.
There hasn't been such peace and quiet in this house for at least six months.
Bep is still in isolation, but any day now her sister will no longer be
contagious.
For Christmas, we're getting extra cooking oil, candy and molasses. For Hanukkah,
Mr. Dussel gave Mrs. van Daan and Mother a beautiful cake, which he'd asked Miep
to bake. On top of all the work she has to do! Margot and I received a brooch made
out of a penny, all bright and shiny. I can't really describe it, but it's lovely.
I also have a Christmas present for Miep and Bep. For a whole month I've saved up
the sugar I put on my hot cereal, and Mr. Kleiman has used it to have fondant
made.
The weather is drizzly and overcast, the stove stinks, and the food lies heavily
on our stomachs, producing a variety of rumbles.
The war is at an impasse, spirits are low.
Yours, Anne
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 24, 1943
Dear Kitty,
As I've written you many times before, moods have a tendency to affect us quite a
bit here, and in my case it's been getting worse lately. "Himmelhoch jauchzend, zu
Tode betru'bt"* [* A famous line from Goethe: "On top of the world, or in the
depths of despair."] certainly applies to me. I'm "on top of the world" when I
think of how fortunate we are and compare myself to other Jewish children, and "in
the depths of despair" when, for example, Mrs. Kleiman comes by and talks about
Jopie's hockey club, canoe trips, school plays and afternoon teas with friends.
I don't think I'm jealous of Jopie, but I long to have a really good time for once
and to laugh so hard it hurts.
We're stuck in this house like lepers, especially during winter and the Christmas
and New Year's holidays. Actually, I shouldn't even be writing this, since it
makes me seem so ungrateful, but I can't keep everything to myself, so I'll repeat