Here is an example one, written by a lady working in the factories during WW1, that we are learning to imitate for Literacy.
November 18th
1914
Dear
Diary,
I’ve
have worked such an exhausting day, this morning I started 5 am and didn’t
finish until 8pm this evening. After a long day at the wearing munitions
factory, I’ve come home and immediately had a bath to wash away the chemicals.
The chemicals on my skin changed the water colour to blood red, which was
frightening. Some of the sulphur got deep inside therefore my skin has actually
become yellow, and this won’t wash off. My toenails are also bright yellow and
don’t look like they will be changing any time soon, how delightful! There are
worse things though. Some of the chemicals, like mercury, don’t have a colour
so you can’t see them. They are the most dangerous. A few of the girls have got
mercury poisoning at the moment. I hope I don’t fall victim to it, I can’t
afford to not be working.
However, it is quite rewarding, working at
the factory, knowing that we are helping all our men defend our country. We’ve
been creating and packing explosives, only last week Marjorie from two streets
over handled a defective one and there was a small explosion. We were all
shaken up from it but had to return to the factory and start work again within
an hour. It’s more risky that dusting Mrs Pott’s house I tell you! How that job
seems a lifetime ago.
It was only last week that I had to take
myself to the hospital due to grit from the grinding machine as it got into my
eyes. It was quite a simple painless
process but by that time both my eyes were so inflamed I could hardly see and I
had a weird journey home, running a few steps and then being forced to close my
eyes for a bit till they'd recovered enough to run further. I expect the
passers-by thought I was a sad case of intoxication or that I was running
around crazy. All I keep telling myself is that as long as it is keeping food
on our table and helping the men defend our country then it’s worth it.
It seems only yesterday Frank was sent to fight,
but I just wish he was back. Working in the factory and looking after the two boys
is hard work. My heart yearns for us all to be reunited again, one day soon I
keep telling myself. Frank said in his last letter that he isn’t so sure he
will be back for Christmas, this war may be longer than what we expected.
Speak
soon,
Emily x
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