friday, august 21, 1942

dear kitty,

now our secret annex has truly become secret.

because so many houses are being searched for hidden bicycles, mr. kugler thought it would be better to have a bookcase built in front of the entrance to our hiding place. it swings out on its hinges and opens like a door. mr. voskuijl did the carpentry work. (mr. voskuijl has been told that the seven of us are in hiding, and he's been most helpful.)

now whenever we want to go downstairs we have to duck and then jump. after the first three days we were all walking around with bumps on our foreheads from banging our heads against the low doorway. then peter cushioned it by nailing a towel stuffed with wood shavings to the doorframe. let's see if it helps!

i'm not doing much schoolwork. i've given myself a vacation until september. father wants to start tutoring me then, but we have to buy all the books first.

there's little change in our lives here. peter's hair was washed today, but that's nothing special. mr. van daan and i are always at loggerheads with each other. mama always treats me like a baby, which i can't stand. for the rest, things are going better. i don't think peter's gotten any nicer. he's an obnoxious boy who lies around on his bed all day, only rousing himself to do a little carpentry work before returning to his nap. what a dope!

mama gave me another one of her dreadful sermons this morning. we take the opposite view of everything. daddy's a sweetheart; he may get mad at me, but it never lasts longer than five minutes.

it's a beautiful day outside, nice and hot, and in spite of everything, we make the most of the weather by lounging on the folding bed in the attic.

yours, anne

comment added by anne on september 21, 1942: mr. van daan has been as nice as pie to me recently. i've said nothina, but have been enjoyina it while it lasts.