What a nuisance
Freddie is. Truly, he has caused me to
smudge ink on my book and ruin it! It’s
not fair, he ruins everything! I hate
him!
Freddie came prancing
into our room this evening as I was writing my earlier entry and announced that he was King of Misrule and then
started jumping around the room, flinging his arms around and shouting
“Misrule! Misrule! Misrule!” He grabbed
the cloth Mamma had placed on the table for dinner, knocked over the little
vase of flowers Mamma had put there only five minutes earlier, and then tried
to pull me from my chair just as I lifted my pen from the inkwell, causing me
to smudge the entry.
Dad quickly came in
from his office when he heard the commotion and promptly led Freddie back there
by his ear. We heard dad give Freddie five whacks with the cane, “To teach him
to have more respect and discipline”. I
don’t think Fred will ever learn that lesson; he’s more interested in games and
pranks.
Anyway, now Dad has sought permission for me to write in the Barracks Library, where my brothers and
sisters cannot interfere. Annie is
quite jealous; she says Dad has never favoured her with such a privilege and as
the eldest, she should also be granted a similar privilege. Can you believe it? Annie is only marginally better than Fred, in
that all she ever reads are stories about love and romance. She never reads the newspaper, except for the
serial, nor books about natural history, nor Shakespeare, nor Dickens.
Anyway, I am only
allowed to use the Library if there is a responsible person present to
supervise me. Tonight Colonel Fittock is
in here. Dad explained to Colonel
Fittock that I am keeping a diary and that Fred was making it difficult for me
to concentrate on my writing. He asked if it would be permissible for me to use the table in the
library. Colonel Fittock looked me in the eye as though he were staring into my soul, whilst he considered the request and then replied "that it would
be alright - under supervision". As he was present (relaxing in a big
leather chair) reading a report of the Crimean War, he would supervise me tonight.
 |
| A British Colonel circa 1860s. Col Fittock is a fictional character. |
Colonel Fittock has a gruff voice and scares
me when he speaks. He asked me what I wrote about and I told him that I mainly
wrote about things that happened that day.
For instance I was writing about how boring today was with no Twelfth
Night celebrations, but now I have written about Freddie misbehaving and my
being allowed to use the Library. Colonel Fittock asked if he could have a look
at my penmanship. I was too scared to
tell him no, so I had to let him look. I
was terrified! My hand was shaking as I passed my diary to him. I thought he would
criticise my writing, which would not be fair – I have written this for myself,
not for him to peruse as though it were a writing lesson with Miss Drury!
But I was so
wrong. He complemented me on my “neat
hand”. He said that I obviously “took
after my father”. He asked me if I
enjoyed school; I told him that I enjoyed reading and geography lessons, but I
was not very good at needlework. Colonel
Fittock nodded his head and told me “To keep on with the good work.” He then suggested that I should include some
description of where I lived and some more detail about my family. I was too scared to ask him why? I mean, the diary is supposed to be for me,
my secret thoughts. Why would I need to
describe where I live, when I know that?
It makes no sense to me. He
probably thinks I’m writing about those things now, but I’m not.
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