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8th March 2000 (Age 9)

It’s my 9th birthday today and Nanny gave me this diary, I was hoping for a pair of roller skates but it does have a bright pink heart, my favourite colour. And it has a tiny lock with a tiny key. Mummy says I’m not to lose it or my secrets will remain secrets forever. Though I don’t think I have any secrets. I’m glad I can lock it though, then my stupid big brother can’t read what I read about him. He’s a moron, but Mummy says I mustn’t call him that, but he is. Nanny told me she has lots of diaries, she showed me one in her dressing table that was really, really small, like a doll’s diary. I love my Nanny; she makes me laugh and allows me to put on her jewellery. But Peter my brother makes me sick, he’s gross.

8th March 2004 (Aged 13)

God, I’m so fed up, and it’s my birthday! Mum and Dad have grounded m. Yes on my birthday it’s so unfair. They found a packet of ciggies in my school bag. I told them they shouldn’t go looking and said that they were Carly’s – she’s sixteen. But they knew I was lying. I don’t even like it, makes me cough, but I don’t want to look stupid. I hate them both. They’re always having a go. Too much make up blah blah, don’t like your friends blah blah, tidy your room blah blah, do your homework blah blah. Why can’t they give me a break? And goody two shoes Peter he can go to hell. Laughing at me. I hate him! Why is everyone against me? I might as well be dead.

8th March 2009 (Aged 18)

Happy Birthday to me! Today I became of ‘age’, so Nan told me. She said that my birthday falls on International Women’s Day, which is very apt as I’m now allowed to vote. She told me about the Suffragettes and how they died for women’s rights. She liked to tell me about it even though I’ve done it in history. I think she misses Pops. She looked tired and as if she’d been crying. Anyway, she gave me a beautiful gold locket with spaces for two photo’s just like the one of hers I used to play with when I was little. It had a picture of her and Pops on their wedding day, but it got pinched when she was burgled. She said it was so I could treasure those I love. I didn’t tell her about Will. Don’t think she’d understand me going out with an older man. My friends don’t understand but hey he has money and a fab sports car. What’s not to like? Anyway must dash, get ready for the party tonite, nails and hair and mum is taking me to buy a new dress – might try to wangle a new pair of shoes, I have nothing to match.

8th March 2014 (Aged 23)

OMG! I’m getting old. Fancy being 23 – I’m over the hill and no-one loves me. I don’t feel that old, really. I checked in the mirror for any lines but couldn’t find any, and no grey hairs, Thank Goodness! Nan says I shouldn’t worry. Lines are a sign of a life well lived. Well, I suppose she should know; she has loads. I went to see her in the Nursing Home, she’s okay but she stays in bed most times. She gave me her wedding dress in which she married Pops. Mum had to sell her house to pay for the bills and it was the only thing she refused to let go of. It was wrapped in layers and layers of fine tissue paper and looks as good as new. So beautiful with thousands of pearls hand sewn into it. She said I could wear it as my maid of honour dress for Peter’s wedding in the summer. But I don’t think so, I don’t want to be a maid. And it fits perfectly. Just need to find the right man. Someday he will come, says Nan. Hope she’s right. Sweet Dreams, Dear Diary.


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