And in the meantime I’ve left Charlotte of the Palatine completely in the lurch.
Kitty, can you see that I’m just about bursting?
Now, about something else: you’ve known for a long time that my greatest wish is to become a journalist someday and later on a famous writer. Whether these leanings towards greatness (or insanity?) will ever materialise remains to be seen, but I certainly have the subjects in my mind.
In any case, I want to publish a book entitled The Secret Annexe after the war.
Whether I shall succeed or not, I cannot say, but my diary will be a great help. I have other ideas as well, but I will write more fully about them some other time, when they have taken a clearer form in my mind.
Yours, Anne
Saturday, 13 May, 1944
Dearest Kitty, It was Daddy’s birthday yesterday. Mummy and Daddy have been married nineteen years. The charwoman wasn’t around and the sun shone as it has never shone before in 1944. Our horse chestnut is in full bloom, thickly covered with leaves and much more beautiful than last year.
Daddy received a biography of the life of Linnaeus from Kleiman, a book on nature from Kugler, Amsterdam fay the Water from Dussel, a gigantic box from van Daan, beautifully done up and almost professionally decorated, containing three eggs, a bottle of beer, a bottle of yoghurt, and a green tie. It made our pot of syrup seem rather small. My roses smelled lovely compared with Miep’s and Ellis carnations, which had no smell, but were very pretty too. He was certainly spoiled. Fifty fancy pastries have
