I haven't written for a few days, because I wanted first of all to think about my diary. It's an odd idea for someone like me to keep a diary; not only because I have never done so before, but because it seems to me that neither I-nor for that matter anyone else-will be interested in the unbosomings of a thirteen -year -old schoolgirl. Still, what does that matter? I want to write, but more than that, I want to bring out all kinds of things that lie buried deep in my heart.

Where there's hope, there's life. It fills us with fresh courage and makes us strong again.

In the future I'm going to devote less time to sentimentality and more time to reality.

I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.

Looking back, I realize that this period of my life has irrevocably come to a close; my happy-go-lucky, carefree schooldays are gone forever. I don't even miss them. I've outgrown them. I can no longer just kid around, since my serious side is always there.

There's something happening everyday, but I'm too tired and lazy to write it all down.

I soothe my conscience now with the thought that it is better for hard words to be on paper than that Mummy should carry them in her heart.