Honestly, Reg, you've not been listening to your mother again, have you? For Merlin's sake.
Ten minutes she had me on the Floo this afternoon. All about how your Kreacher has muffed the cookery since spending so much time with you these last weeks.
If you've any sense you'll simply ignore her ranting. It's been so much worse lately.
I wonder if it's because the anniversary of Uncle Orion's death is coming up? But that's not until June, isn't it? Well, I'm baffled, then.
At any rate pay no mind - she's just angling to borrow Fifi for a time.
I tried reading, but all I've got is Beckett and Calderón de la Barca. Well, and that dreadful biography of Rowena Ravenclaw that came out last summer. I don't know what I was thinking when I packed those.
Bid us sigh on from day to day, And wish and wish the soul away, Till youth and genial years are flown, And all the life of life is gone.
I've no idea what you were thinking, either. It's like that period you went through in your OWL year, loads of Sisters of Sorcery albums and dark pronouncements.
It was boring then, Reg, and it's boring now. I forbid you to read another poem.
You were coming round for tea tomorrow, weren't you? Why not come tonight instead? I can easily provide you with a rather cheeky bordeaux and an even more ribald volume of Tristram Bundy.
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Ten minutes she had me on the Floo this afternoon. All about how your Kreacher has muffed the cookery since spending so much time with you these last weeks.
If you've any sense you'll simply ignore her ranting. It's been so much worse lately.
I wonder if it's because the anniversary of Uncle Orion's death is coming up? But that's not until June, isn't it? Well, I'm baffled, then.
At any rate pay no mind - she's just angling to borrow Fifi for a time.
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I tried reading, but all I've got is Beckett and Calderón de la Barca. Well, and that dreadful biography of Rowena Ravenclaw that came out last summer. I don't know what I was thinking when I packed those.
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It was boring then, Reg, and it's boring now. I forbid you to read another poem.
You were coming round for tea tomorrow, weren't you? Why not come tonight instead? I can easily provide you with a rather cheeky bordeaux and an even more ribald volume of Tristram Bundy.
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Definitely ignore her.
You'll ignore me, too, if you know what's good for you.
I promise to be in better form tomorrow.
Just having a bad evening is all.
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Well.
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I'd not ignore me, if you know what's good for you.
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I could be packed up and in the Floo in twenty minutes. Make it twenty-five.
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