Yep, it's back. The continuing (but soon to be ended, because I gave up my spy career after a few weeks of writing) saga of 11-year-old Natalie's SECRET UNCENSORED Spy Diary!
March 7, 1975
Hang on, this is already significant! Little did I know that six years later, on that very day in 1981, March 7, I would be having my first date with my seriously awful, nasty ex-husband-to-be. (Gordon was a HUGE step up from that youthful mistake in love.) I feel intensely sorry for my 11-year-old self. Little girl, RUN SCREAMING when you turn 17 and a tall, blonde, math-loving, D & D-playing, high-school-swim-meet official invites you to downtown Toronto for a romantic shopping excursion to the Toronto Eaton Centre. It is not the start of something good. Darling, do not marry that man! Do not believe him when he tells you he loves you. He is a lying bag of sh*t. Remember, 17-year-olds are not good at spotting sociopaths. Beware the dead fish eyes! Run! RUN!!
Sorry, I had a moment there. I got a little exercised. Back to the diary...
Poor Mrs. Toffolo. No helpers. It's gonna snow today. I wonder what it's like to be a snowflake? Does it feel cold? Do you feel graceful? It wouldn't be fun, 'cause you'd get melted and people would step on you. But if I had to be a snowflake, I'd land on a roof or tall treetop.
Mrs. Toffolo was one of my favourite teachers. As for the snowflakes, I am amazed at what a deep thinker I was at 11...
I'd HATE to be a pencil or pen. People chewing you, and when your (sic) used up, to the garbage pail you go!
If Mummy knew I had written my checklist (checklist for WHAT?!), she'd faint.
This cold is killing me. (Overly dramatic!)
Daddy-o is in a good mood. (My Dad was a pretty cheerful guy. I'm not sure why this was worth noting. Slow news day?)
Nobody shall see this book now. (Only bazillions of complete strangers reading my blog! Okay, bazillions is optimistic. How about hundreds? How about tens?)
If you are looking at this you are invading privacy and I know a number of policemen. (I was always such a law-and-order child!)
Mr. Johnston (my friend's dad)
Mr. MacDonald (another friend's dad)
Rob MacDonald (brother of friend, son of previous cop)
I'm quite sure Mrs. Fairfield has a grudge on me. (Another teacher! She had my number.)
Mummy is getting dressed. I am lying in bed. I'm too lazy to get a Kleenex. (So... did I blow my nose on the sheets?!)
I bet if I got a stethescope (SO close to correct spelling!) I could listen through walls. I pray we get the...
...top floor of the Hotel in Florida. (Mum and I had a trip to Florida and Disneyworld booked for June.) Then I can listen on Balcony's! (Apostrophe abuse!!)
I had a nice talk with Wendy this morning (my best friend) When is Mum gonna get home?
The inexplicably, I wrote the name of a classmate:
Which apparently was the last straw in an exhausting day of spying:
More to come! I really wish I had more of my childhood writings. The teenage diaries are just full of angst and not as much fun!