Dear Diary,

Oh, what could get worse now?! Nobody has picked us, so we ain’t got a home to go to! We’re stuck with that pimple-faced billeting officer who thinks she’s so posh. As if! She’s just a rotten old snob. Just like Maggie…

Anyway, Diary, we’re stuck here. Stuck, stuck, stuck. I seem to be the only one who’s taking things seriously ‘round here! ‘Megan, Megan!’ is all I get. Archie keeps yelling that he’s going to shoot those ol’ Germans - Bang! Bang! Bang! And then when I told him it was only the Nazis, he called me a stupid swot! You don’t think I’m a swot, do you, Diary? I certainly hope not.

Oh, how I miss Maggie. She used to be my bestest, bestest friend in all the world. But then she met Ma. Ma has… problems. She had to sit in  this chair thingy with wheels; she couldn’t even speak properly. She’s a bit better now, but not that much. Oh great, now my tears have stained the page. Ugh...

Oh dear, Annabelle needs her cuppy filled now and the idiots can’t even move a single metre.

Megan xx

World War 2!