If it’d been me, I’m sure I would have yelled even louder. After a great deal of squirming, kicking, screaming and shouting, she finally managed to yank the thing out, and Mr Dussel calmly went on with his work as if nothing had happened. He was so quick that Mrs van D. didn’t have time to pull any more shenanigans. But then, he had more help than he’s ever had before: no fewer than two assistants; Mr van D. and I performed our job well. The whole scene resembled one of those engravings from the Middle Ages, the kind showing a quack at work. In the meantime, however, the patient was getting restless, since she had to keep an eye on ‘her’ soup and ‘her’ food. One thing is certain: Mrs van D. will never make another dental appointment!
Wednesday, 8 December 1942
MR VAN DAAN had a large amount of meat. Today he wanted to make bratwurst and sausages, and tomorrow mettwurst. It’s fun watching him put the meat through the mincer: once, twice, three times. Then he adds all kinds of ingredients to the meat and uses a long pipe, which he attaches to the mincer, to force it into the casings. We ate the bratwurst with sauerkraut (served with onions and potatoes) for lunch, but the sausages were hung to dry over a pole suspended from the ceiling. Everyone who came into the room burst into laughter when they saw those dangling sausages. It was such a comical sight.
The place was a shambles. Mr van Daan, clad in his wife’s apron and looking fatter than ever, was concentrating his hefty form on the meat. What with his bloody hands, red face and apron, he really looked like a butcher. Mrs van D. was trying to do everything at once: learn Dutch, cook, watch, sigh, moan – she claims to have broken a rib. That’s what happens when you do such stupid physical exercises. Dussel had an eye infection and was sitting next to the stove dabbing his eye with chamomile tea. Pim, seated in the sunshine, kept having to move his chair this way and that to stay out of the way. His back must have been bothering him, because he was sitting slightly hunched over with an agonized expression on his face. He reminded me of those aged invalids you see in the poorhouse. Peter was romping around the room with the cat, holding out a piece of meat and then running off with the meat still in his hands. Mother, Margot and I were peeling potatoes. When you get right down to it, none of us was doing our work properly, because we were all so busy watching Mr van Daan.
Friday, 10 December 1942
WE’RE BEING PLAGUED with yet another problem: Mouschi’s fleas. We didn’t know that people could be bitten by cat fleas, but they can.
Yesterday when I was upstairs I found a flea on my leg, ten minutes later when I was downstairs I nabbed another one, and last night when I was sitting on Dussel’s bed, I felt another one crawling down my leg, but the little pest slipped through my fingers – they’re incredibly fast. This morning I was getting dressed over by the cupboard when I saw another one of those wondrous creatures, walking along without a care in the world.
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