Wednesday, December 07, 2011

Secret Spy Diary, March 7, 1975

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... 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:

Clare Richman

Which apparently was the last straw in an exhausting day of spying:

 I'm pooped.


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!


  1. The older I get the more tempted I am to reinstate use of a notebook such as yours.

    Unfortunately though the prototype currently under testing is full of things such as "reasons why I walked into this room" and "location of trousers".

    When I was a young kidling on the Isle of Lewis in the Hebrides, living ten miles outside of Stornoway in a village with five houses I used to spend hours hidden in the verge collecting the registration numbers of cars. "I've got one" takes on a whole new meaning after four hours of waiting (and it was usually my dad's, coming home from work).

    I don't know if life was simpler then - or if I was.

  2. I don't know why but it tickled me that you knew a number of policemen!

    Owl Wood's comment cracked me up too.

  3. Anonymous8:05 am

    I love this. Love it! What a treasure that is!

    Must cross stitch that excellent advice for any future granddaughters I might have. LOL!

  4. What a terrific reminder that all of childhood feels like being in a spy adventure.

  5. Anonymous2:27 pm

    Not really Anonymous, but one of your CANINE-L friends...I have a diary written when I was 13 or so. I was greatly influenced by Anne Frank at that age, to the point of naming my diary Kitty, as she did. I cringe at some of the things I wrote. You're brave to share yours with us.

  6. Owl Wood, I would have a blast spying on people now! ;) And I should think that if I lived in a remote village in the Hebrides, I'd spend my time collecting car registration numbers too! :)

  7. LBM, I laughed at that too. "I know a NUMBER of police." Sort of, I don't know, formal for a kid! I was trying to sound intimidating. Can you imagine if I'd gone to the police to report someone reading my spy diary?? And Owl Wood is hilarious!

    Marylee, the cross stitch is a great idea! And I sure wish I had more writings from my childhood. I find it fun but also bittersweet to hear my 11-year-old voice.

    Evlyn, that is so true! We were all little spies in a way.

  8. Anonymous, I had a diary I called Bridget, for that very reason. I read Anne Frank and decided to name my diary! That is so cool. I wish I still had the diary. I do remember the name I gave it though.

  9. Anonymous8:38 am

    You knew a number of policemen. But were they all trustworthy? That is the question ...

  10. I used to always spy on people as a child. I'd often go up on roofs or up in trees. I learned people NEVER look up!!! But I never wrote my thoughts down in a diary. Too bad. I used to write notes to my girlfriends, and they wrote to me, but we never saved any evidence of our thoughts. It was best to destroy all evidence as soon as it was read! Ahhh, those simple thoughts!


  11. Brilliant... hungry for more!


Thank you for all your comments, which I love to read!