on, lock the door, pour my own bath water away, and I’m safe from prying eyes.
I tried my beautiful bathroom on Sunday for the first time and although it sounds mad, I think it is the best place of all. Last week the plumber was at work downstairs to move the drains and water pipes from the office W.C. to the passage. This change is a precaution against frozen pipes, in case we should have a cold winter. The plumber’s visit was far from pleasant for us.
Not only were we unable to draw water the whole day, but we could not go to the W.C. either. Now it is rather indecent to tell you what we did to overcome this difficulty, however, I’m not such a prude that I can’t talk about these things.
The day we arrived here. Daddy and I improvised a pottie for ourselves.
Not having a better receptacle, we sacrificed a glass preserving jar for this purpose. During the plumber’s visit, nature’s offerings were deposited in these jars in the sitting room during the day, I don’t think this was nearly as bad as having to sit still and not talk the whole day. You can’t imagine what a trial that was for ‘Miss Quack-Quack.’ I have to whisper on ordinary days, but not being able to speak or move was ten times worse. After being flattened by three days of continuous sitting, my bottom was very stiff and painful. Some exercises at bedtime helped.
Yours, Anne
Thursday, 1 October, 1942
Dear Kitty, I got a terrible shock yesterday. Suddenly at 8 o’clock the bell rang loudly. Of course, I thought that someone had come, you’ll guess who I mean. But I calmed down a bit when everyone said it must be some urchins or perhaps the postman.
The days are becoming very quiet here. Levinsohn, a small Jewish chemist and dispenser, works for Mr. Kugler in the kitchen. He knows the whole building well and therefore we are always afraid that he’ll take it into his head to have a peep in the old laboratory. We are as quiet as mice. Who, three months ago, would ever have guessed that quicksilver Anne would have to sit still for hours—and, what’s more, could?
The twenty-ninth was Mrs. van Daan’s birthday. Although it could not be celebrated in a big way, we managed a little party in her honour, with a specially nice meal, and she received some small presents and flowers.
Red carnations from her husband, that seems to be a family tradition. To pause for a moment on the subject of Mrs. van Daan, I must tell you that her attempts to flirt with Daddy are a source of continual irritation for me.
She strokes his face and hair, pulls her skirt right up, and makes so-called witty remarks, trying in this way to attract Pim’s attention. Pim, thank goodness, doesn’t find her either attractive or funny, so he doesn’t play ball.
Mummy doesn’t behave like that with Mr. van Daan, I’ve said that to Mrs. van Daan’s face.
Now and then Peter comes out of his shell and can be quite funny. We have one thing in common, from which everyone usually gets a lot of amusement: we both love dressing up. He appeared in one of Mrs. van Daan’s very narrow dresses and I put on his suit. He wore a hat and I a cap.
The grown-ups were doubled up with laughter and we enjoyed ourselves as much as they did. Bep has bought new skirts for Margot and me at The Bijenkorf. The material is rotten, just like sacking, and they cost 24.00 guilders and 7.50 guilders respectively. What a difference compared with before the war!
Another nice thing I’ve been keeping up my sleeve. Bep has written to some secretarial school and ordered a correspondence course in shorthand for Margot, Peter, and me. You wait and see what perfect experts we shall be by next year. In any case it’s extremely important to be able to write in a code.
Yours, Anne
