Diary of a schoolgirl, by Florence Medway
An original diary written in a nineteenth-century voice; a period simulation, not an archival document.
In this diary, written in 1871, a twelve-year-old girl records the birth of a baby brother in her family.
Tuesday, 14th February. Mamma is ‘indisposed’ and must not be disturbed, and Aunt Letitia has come to stay to manage the house, which means that Kit and I are sent out of every room we go into. Nobody will tell us anything, but I am twelve and not a baby myself, and I know perfectly well what is going on, because Mrs Gruffydd the monthly nurse has arrived with her carpet bag and she would not come for nothing.
Wednesday. It is a boy. He was born at four this morning while I was asleep, which I think very inconsiderate of him, as I had meant to stay awake. We were let in to see Mamma for five minutes after breakfast. She looked very tired and very pleased, and the baby was in a basket by the bed with only his face showing, and his face is red and creased like a walnut and he has no eyebrows. Kit said he was beautiful. Kit is eight and will say anything.
Saturday. Everything in this house is now about the baby. Papa, who never comes home before six, came home at four to look at him. Cook has made a special gruel for Mamma and there was no pudding for us. Aunt Letitia says we must walk on tiptoe past the door and not practise the piano, so I have not practised all week, which is the one good thing. When I asked if I might go to Ada Dalby’s birthday tea I was told not to be selfish at such a time.
Monday. They are to call him Edward Arthur. Nobody asked me. I had thought of Lancelot.
Thursday. Mrs Gruffydd was busy with Mamma this afternoon and Aunt Letitia had gone to the draper’s, and the baby began to cry, and nobody came. I went in. I had never held him before, because Mrs Gruffydd says that girls drop things. I picked him up as I have seen her do, with one hand behind his head, and he stopped crying at once and looked at me. His eyes are a dark slatey colour, not blue at all, and he has a very strong grip for somebody so small. He held my finger all the time I walked him up and down. When Aunt Letitia came back she said, ‘Well, Florence!’ in a voice I could not make out, and then she said that I had done very well.
Friday. I asked Mrs Gruffydd if I might hold him again and she said yes, if I sat down. I sat in the nursing chair for half an hour. Lancelot is still a better name. But I do not think I shall mind Edward so very much.
“Florence resents the arrival of the new baby.”
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120 exam-style questions on Eduqas GCSE English Language 2.1.1 Two unseen non-fiction texts, 19th and 21st century. Each one has a worked solution and a mark scheme showing where the marks go.