the gods of Greece and Rome. They think here that it is just a passing craze, they’ve never heard of an adolescent kid of my age being interested in mythology. Well, then, I shall be the first!
Mr, van Daan has a cold, or rather he has a little tickle in his throat. He makes a tremendous fuss about it. Gargling with camomile tea, painting his throat with tincture of myrrh, rubbing eucalyptus all over his chest, nose, teeth, and tongue and then getting into an evil mood on top of it all.
Rauter, one of the German big shots, has made a speech. “All Jews must be out of the German occupied countries before July 1. Between April 1 and May 1 the province of Utrecht must be cleaned out (as if the Jews were cockroaches). Between May 1 and June 1 the provinces of North and South Holland.” These wretched people are sent to filthy slaughterhouses like a herd of sick, neglected cattle. But I won’t talk about it, I only get nightmares from such thoughts.
One good little piece of news is that the German department of the Labour Exchange has been set on fire by saboteurs. A few days after, the Registrar’s Office went the same way. Men in German police uniforms gagged the guards and managed to destroy important papers.
Yours, Anne
Thursday, 1 April, 1943
Dear Kitty, I’m really not April-fooling (see the date), but the opposite; today I can easily quote the saying: Misfortunes never come singly. To begin with, Mr.
Kleiman, the one who always cheers us up, has had haemorrhage of the stomach and has got to stay in bed for at least three weeks. Secondly, Bep has flu. Thirdly, Mr. Vossen is going to the hospital next week. He has probably got an abdominal ulcer. And fourthly, some important business
