Today he's walking around with a heavy scarf on because he's got a stiff neck. His Highness has been complaining of lumbago too.
Aches and pains in his heart, kidneys and lungs are also par for the course. He's an absolute hypochondriac! (That's the right word, isn't it?)
Mother and Mrs. van Daan aren't getting along very well. There are enough reasons for the friction.
To give you one small example, Mrs. van D. has removed all but three of her sheets from our communal linen closet.
She's assuming that Mother's can be used for both families. She'll be in for a nasty surprise when she discovers that Mother has followed her lead.
Furthermore, Mrs. van D. is ticked off because we're using her china instead of ours.
She's still trying to find out what we've done with our plates; they're a lot closer than she thinks,
since they're packed in cardboard boxes in the attic, behind a load of Opekta advertising material.
As long as we're in hiding, the plates will remain out of her reach. Since I'm always having accidents, it's just as well!
Yesterday I broke one of Mrs. van D.'s soup bowls. “Oh!” she angrily exclaimed. “Can't you be more careful? That was my last one.”
Please bear in mind, Kitty, that the two ladies speak abominable Dutch (I don't dare comment on the gentlemen: they'd be highly insulted).
If you were to hear their bungled attempts, you'd laugh your head off.
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