Diary Entries from the Workhouse in the Famine Times

FAMINE (1847)Workhouses
 Dear Diary,
 Today one of the girls was beaten because she didn’t wash the sheets properly. She got flogged then she took one stroke of the cat o’ nine tails. Today for dinner was the usual, water like soup, which tasted bitter and bread that was stale. Apart from all that, the day was normal. Same people, same terrible jobs. Sometimes I wish to die or to escape. Either way I die. My landlord (he exiled us)blamed shortage of potatoes, on this ‘blight’. Curse this wretched famine. I wish I could swap places with my cousin. He’s probably sitting in front of the fire, drinking tea, in America. Sometimes I want to kill Mr. Hughes. By the way he's the owner of this dreadful place. But then I remember what my mum taught me and I would never want to disrespect her memory. Mr.Hughes is a short ,skinny ,bald man with a beard. Everyday I wake up at 4 o’ clock in the morning and go to sleep at 11 o’clock. Diary I need to get to sleep!! The END

This Diary entry was composed by Awais.

Dear Diary
My name is Cathal Cosgrave
I am 10 years old. I was forced to move into the Castlebar workhouse on July 9th 1845 because we had no money to pay the rent on our house. I have two brothers and two sisters. We were very cold and hungry when we enrolled for the workhouse.  My Dad, my two brothers and I were separated from our Mum and two sisters.

If we are lucky we get two meals a day if not two, we get 1/3 quarter- milk and two slices of disgusting stale bread for every meal. We get up at 6 am and work for the whole day. Our bed is made of straw and is not at all comfy.

I am tired and lonely and sad and I miss my family because we are not allowed to talk. God help  me.

This Diary Entry was composed by Cathal C.
Dear Diary

       My name is Séanóg O”Neill and I’m hungry and when I say I’m hungry I’m about to starve to death! I’m not hungry for some Tayto crisps because I”ve never tasted them. I’m hungry for a hot bowl of soup to warm up me bones like the one I had on Christmas Day back in the good old times .Now I’m stuck with grouchy old Mr.Hackett .The only person that I wanted to be with was my Father Séan who died two years ago .Today some older boys stole my dinner ant I got beaten by Mr.Hackett. Life is so dull and miserable here and uhh ohh here comes Mr.Hackett I better pretend to be asleep but God get me out of here!

This Diary Entry was composed by Tomás W.