Friday, September 15, 1910
I’m shattered today. It was another complicated day at the works. I wish I could get a pay rise it’s the only thing keeping me going. Don’t get me started about Birling he is an ignorant, obstinate and an old fool. Tomorrow’s the day he’s going to consider the offer. I’ve always fought for what I believe in but now I’m beginning to wonder what’s the point? This job is the only thing I’ve got ‘ and I can’t afford to lose it.
Saturday, September 16, 1910
It turned out that Birling didn’t even consider this before negotiating an offer just because it’s his duty to keep labour costs down! I am fuming and exasperated with that man. If only someone would teach him a lesson, one that he wouldn’t forget. I don’t think all the men in Bromley are all like Mr Birling so cold hearted treating us like slaves. How would he feel if it was him being kicked around like this? What would he do?
Sunday, October 8, 1910
There are many reasons why anybody should hate Birling- he’s a narrow-minded, cruel and self- obsessed about himself. He came down to our workshop today and personally fired me. I suppose I should have taken the usual rate but it’s too late now. I have to pay for being a little bit more concerned about that we don’t get enough money.
Monday, October 9, 1910
However, I am relieved that I no longer work at Birling and Co. I glared at the window seeing the sky darkened from a distance. It was coming from the works as the sky, over time, became misty and murky which powerfully polluted the atmosphere. The lengthy long shifts made my eyes grow heavy from the overwhelming effects of excessive concentration. Row by row sitting at a broken ancient wooden desk with chunky grey rusty nails and holes which would rip your clothes. The desk would rock from side to side. They would nail our ears to the broken ancient wooden desk leading to red inflamed skin with bright yellow and dark green liquid pouring out. The brown knife edged leather strap with dried dark brown blood markings was used to slap and cut us so severe red-coloured blood came slowly oozing out. The air was full of dust making it impossible to see where you were going. I may as well work in the pitch black darkness. I don’t miss the working there.
Wednesday, November 9, 1910
I secretly went to the Palace Bar again. It was packed with lively ladies who were waiting for a mysterious man to flirt around with who had the money to waste on drinks. It was horrible. A tall man with chestnut curly short hair laid eyes on me as he approached me. He politely introduced himself to me. He told me he was Mr Eric Birling! I told him I was Daisy Renton; although I was tempted to tell him the truth. He was a shy upper class man probably in this early twenties. Could his family be the owner of the factory- Birling and Co? I doubt that he is; he looks too young.
Monday, January 15, 1911
Gerald comes everyday. He doesn’t look down on me because I am lower class. However, I don’t know what is happening to me, but I’ve been feeling dizzy and sick all day. I feel terrible. Words cant express how I feel. Words are nothing compared to my feelings at the moment. Any day now I’m going to jump, taking my own life with me.
Thursday, January 26, 1911
I don’t know what is happening to me, but I’ve been feeling light headed and nauseous all day. I have asked a few people what they think is wrong because I can’t afford to go to the doctors. They said it is a sign that someone was pregnant. I had to tell Eric. I didn’t want him to be the father, but I had to tell him. He tired to give me more money but last night he was a bit squiffy. I think he has stolen the money and this made me reject it.
Saturday, February 3, 1911
I can’t go through with it, not alone, I can’t be a single parent as well as looking for a job and a place to stay. I have already closed two jobs in less than a year. There won’t be enough jobs left for me. This child doesn’t have chance; it’s too miserable and sad. How can I live a life that is not worth living? I could jump off a cliff or drown myself but, I don’t feel I could go through with it. Using a knife would be too painful and I couldn’t stand still to get run over. It doesn’t matter whether I die or not, what I die from because no body cares so they won’t know. I’ve chosen to poison myself by drinking cleaning fluid. It will be quick but agonising.
Sunday, February 4, 1910
I’m at the works lying down ready to drink this cleaning fluid in my hands. I could smell the solid strong clear scent of bleach. I sipped the fluid as I felt it burning, bubbling and sizzling in my mouth. I can’t scream.
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