![]() ![]() And, I don’t think it’s fair that Edmund doesn’t have to write in a diary just because he’s a boy and a year younger than me. But real diaries have leather covers and lined pages and a key to lock them up so you can write anything and no one else can see! I know because Bessie got one for her birthday last year, though she hasn’t written in it yet. Then she gave me this old school notebook to write in! That’s not a real diary! Though I did not, of course, say that out loud to Mother. She said that I was almost twelve years old now, and becoming too much of a tomboy and that it was time I started acting like a young lady and young ladies did not spend all day running around the neighbourhood in their bare feet and shorts. ![]() I will begin by saying that keeping a diary was Mother’s idea, not mine! The first day of summer holidays and Edmund and I were all set to go out and ride our bicycles to Bessie’s house when Mother stopped me and told me I was to spend half an hour every day writing in this diary. ![]()
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