finally sent him home again. I do pity him terribly and think it is rotten that we can’t go out, otherwise I should certainly visit him frequently to cheer him up. It is a disaster for us that good old Voskuijl won’t be able to keep us in touch with all that goes on, and all he hears in the warehouse. He was our best helper and security adviser; we miss him very much indeed. It will be our turn to hand in our radio next month. Kleiman has a clandestine baby set it home that he will let us have to take the place of our big Phillips. It certainly is a shame to have to hand in our lovely set, but in a house where people are hiding, one daren’t, under any circumstances, take wanton risks and so draw the attention of the authorities. We shall have the little radio upstairs. On top of hidden Jews, clandestine money and clandestine buying, we can add a clandestine radio. Everyone is trying to get hold of an old set and to hand that in instead of their ‘source of courage.’ It is really true that as the news from outside gets worse, so the radio with its miraculous voice helps us to keep up our morale and to say again, “Chins up, stick it out, better times will come!”
Yours, Anne
Sunday, 11 July, 1943
Dear Kitty, To return to the ‘upbringing’ theme for the umpteenth time, I must tell you that I really am trying to be helpful, friendly, and good, and to do everything I can so that the rain of rebukes dies down to a light summer drizzle. It is mighty difficult to be on such model behavior with people you can’t bear, especially when you don’t mean a word of it. But I do really see that I get on better by shamming a bit, instead of my old habit of telling everyone exactly what I think (although no one ever asked my opinion or attached the slightest importance to it).
I often lose my cue and simply can’t swallow my rage at some injustice, so that for four long weeks we hear nothing but an everlasting chatter about the cheekiest and most shameless girl on earth. Don’t you think that sometimes I’ve cause for complaint? It’s a good thing I’m not a grouser, because then I might get sour and bad-tempered.
I have decided to let my shorthand go a bit, firstly to give me more time for my other subjects and secondly because of my eyes. I’m so miserable and wretched as I’ve become very short-sighted and ought to have had glasses for a long time already (phew, what an owl I shall look!) but you know, of course, in hiding one cannot. Yesterday everyone talked of nothing but Anne’s eyes, because Mummy had suggested sending me to the oculist with Mrs. Kleiman. I shook in my shoes somewhat at this announcement, for it is no small thing to do. Go out of doors, imagine it, in the street— doesn’t bear thinking about! I was petrified at first, then glad. But it doesn’t go as easily as that, because all the people who would have to approve such a step could not reach an agreement quickly. All the difficulties and risks had first to be carefully weighed, although Miep would have gone with me straight away.
In the meantime I got out my gray coat from the cupboard, but it was so small that it looked as if it belonged to my younger sister.
I am really curious to know what will come of it all, but I don’t think the plan will come off because the British have landed in Sicily now and Daddy is once again hoping for a ‘quick finish.’ Bep gives Margot and me a lot of office work; it makes us both feel quite important and is a great help to her. Anyone can file away correspondence and write in the sales book, but we take special pains.
Miep is just like a pack mule, she fetches and carries so much. Almost every day she manages to get hold of some vegetables for us and brings everything in shopping bags on her bicycle. We always long for Saturdays when our books come. Just like little children receiving a present.
Ordinary people simply don’t know what books mean to us, shut up here. Reading, learning, and the radio are our amusements.
