***Standards***

Dear Diary

I got shouted at by Mr Carson today because I said bloody hell. He said he expected his staff to behave impeccably at all times (I am not sure what impeccably means, I will look it up) and I will not say bloody hell again or I will be in very serious trouble. I don't know what else I'm bloody well expected to say when I've bloody well burnt my finger and it's hurting like billy-o. Hurt like anything and Mrs Patmore told me to put it under the tap and let the water run over it. I half expected it to fall off and I half wanted it to and leave me in peace.

And when I said "bloody hell" because it was still burning, that was when Mr Carson happened to come in and he heard me. I thought he was going to explode and I got a right good telling off. I wanted to say, "What else, Mr Clever Clogs Carson, am I supposed to say if I can't swear? How about Oh, my goodness, I appear to have had the misfortune of burning my finger off. Be a dear, Mrs Patmore, and see if you can find it for me in the servants' stew."

But I didn't.

I managed not to cry when Mr Carson shouted at me, but I'm in mine and Lizzie's room now and I can't help it. I'm glad Lizzie isn't here to see me. Most of the time she is nice, but sometimes she gets impatient and tells me she agrees with the other servants when they say it should be water off a duck's back when I get told off and I need to grow a thicker skin. But I can't help the way I am.

I keep trying to stop crying, but every time I do it starts again. The rag I use for my hanky is soaking wet and I only have one as I don't have anything else to cut up except my hat for the kitchen and I need that. It looks disgusting now. Not the kitchen, the rag. The kitchen doesn't wear a hat of course. I read over what I wrote and it sounded like I meant the kitchen, but I cleaned that so well you could eat your dinner off the kitchen floor, though that would be daft when there is a very big table and I scrub it really well. I am a very good scrubber.

I wish my Mam was still here. I had a lovely dream last night that we were all together in King Street before we got chucked out for not paying the rent. My Mam went to answer the door and our Sal came in but she was our Beattie in the dream and our Danny and our Arthur were there and Dad was still alive too, he was pushing a wheelbarrow round and round the room for some reason. I was so sad when I woke up and I wasn't there.

I miss the old days even though we never had money or enough to eat. Do you remember the time our Danny and our Arthur nicked the mince pies off the window sill of that posh house and we had to stuff ourselves fast so there were no crumbs if the coppers called? I have plenty to eat here, but it's not the same. I miss my Mam. I miss her hugs.

I miss you so much, Mam. I'm sorry I got your photograph wet.