But I’m just talking nonsense; besides, there are other things to see— cars, boats and rain. I like particularly the screech of the trams as they go by.
There is no more variety in our thoughts than there is for ourselves.
They go round and round like a roundabout—from Jews to food and from food to politics. By the way, talking of Jews, I saw two Jews through the curtain yesterday. I could hardly believe my eyes; it was a horrible feeling, just as if I’d betrayed them and was now watching them in their misery.
There is a houseboat immediately opposite, where a bargeman lives with his family. He has a small yapping dog. We only know the little dog by his bark and his tail, which we can see when he runs round the deck. Ugh! Now it’s started to rain and most of the people are hidden under umbrellas. I see nothing but raincoats and occasionally the back of someone’s hat. Really I don’t need to see more. I’m gradually getting to know all the women at a glance, blown out with potatoes, wearing a red or a green coat, trodden down heels and with a bag under their arms. Their faces either look grim or kind— depending on their husbands’ dispositions.
Yours, Anne
Tuesday, 22 December, 1942
Dear Kitty, The ‘Secret Annexe’ has heard the joyful news that each person will receive an extra quarter of a pound of butter for Christmas. It says half a pound in the newspapers, but that’s only for the lucky mortals who get their ration books from the government, not for Jews who have gone into hiding, who can only afford to buy four illegal ration books, instead of eight.
We are all going to bake something with our butter. I made some biscuits and two cakes this morning. Everyone is very busy upstairs and
Mummy has told me I must not go there to work or read, until the household jobs are done.
Mrs. van Daan is in bed with her bruised rib, complains the whole day long, allows herself to be given fresh dressings all the time, and isn’t satisfied with anything. I shall be glad when she’s on her feet again and tidies up her own things, because I must say this for her; she’s exceptionally industrious and tidy, all the while she is healthy in mind and body. She is cheerful too.
Just as if I didn’t hear enough “shhshh” during the day, for making too much noise, my gentleman bedroom companion now repeatedly calls out “ssh-ssh” to me at night too. According to him, I am not even allowed to turn over! I refuse to take the slightest notice of him, and shall go “ssh-ssh” back at him the next time.
He makes me furious, on Sundays especially, when he turns the light on early to do his exercises. It seems to take simply hours, while I, poor, tormented creature, feel the chairs, which are placed at the head of my bed to lengthen it, slide backwards and forwards continually under my sleepy head. When he has ended with a couple of violent arm-waving exercises to loosen his muscles. His Lordship begins his toilet. His pants are hanging up, so to and fro he must go to collect them. But he forgets his tie, which is lying on the table. Therefore, once more he pushes and bumps past the chairs to get it.
But I won’t bore you any longer on the subject of old men. It won’t make things any better and all my plans of revenge (such as disconnecting the lamp, shutting the door, hiding his clothes) must be abandoned in order to keep the peace. Oh, I’m becoming so sensible! One must apply one’s reason to everything here, learning to obey, to hold your tongue, to help, to be good, to give in, and I don’t know what else. I’m afraid I shall use up all my brains too quickly, and I haven’t got so very many. Then I shall not have any left for when the war is over.
Yours, Anne
