Christmas is a time of wonder.  It’s a time when my belly does many somersaults [not just because of alcohol] and the child within me gets a rosy glow and feels the need to jump around in glee, singing songs and roasting chestnuts.  Birthdays do it on a lesser scale. 


Desperately not wanting to find out who [if anyone] dies in Harry Potter VI and feeling fairly certain who it may be and knowing that I’ll scream obscenities at the bitch [from the safety of my own bedroom, and in my head so no-one can hear me] if it is the person I think it may be, makes the somersaults churn faster and faster and faster …


And I’m still only two thirds through …


How can a book, written by a woman I dislike, filled with words that JK probably has to look up in a thesaurus [how many times can one woman use the word s*** and the word g*gg** (not rude, just couldn’t bear to spoil it for anyone) in one chapter?], do this to me?


I feel like I’m about ten years old.


Enough!


I wish it would rain.  I’m getting a little fed up of having to water the plants in the front garden.  I was told today that even if it does rain I’ll still have to water them.  Eh?  What’s the deal with that?  A child from over the road laughed with me today because of a big fat stone.  Bless.  And a horrid person seems to find it appropriate to let their dog go poopy on our drive.  Bleugh.


There are only four working days left till my summer holidays begin.  And only three more days till the kids leave.  Glorious.  And I’m so desperate for a cat.  Really.  I want lazy days of staying in bed till midday, a cat that will lovingly mock me and chase butterflies, the sun beating down on me [yeh, me who hates the sun], walks to the local antique shop … I suspect that in reality my summer will be spent watering the garden, trying to clear the pond, teaching the cat not to scratch the carpet, being caught in the garden by Mrs Neighbour and her accent-that-I fail-to-grasp, splattering paint on the floor and/or furniture …


Oh, the joys of being an adult.


please God bless the person who might die in HPVI xxx Elsabeth

10 comments

  1. LOL I don’t recall any use of the word shit (though the uk edition may be different) but I’ve noticed she uses the word giggle a lot.  And there’s one word in there I never thought I’d see in an HP book.
    *taunts you* IIIIII know what haaaapens!

  2. i’m trying to work out who the hell could have told you to water the plants. i know it wasn’t me…don’t get muddy feet. how are the weeds?lewis.

  3. It’s a love hate thing. It’s the the best work out there but it keeps the tradition of story telling alive. I like it because it keeps kids involved. Especially in our day and age, kids grow up so fast–so for them to get so excited over a book is pretty amazing.

  4. What part are you talking about?  I think I know but I want to be sure.  And I think if it did say that I would definitely remember because here it means to have an orgasm.

    I don’t have the book with me (Ashley borrowed it) but I will check on it when she returns it.

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