Nearly July. I love July.
It's been awhile since I cracked this thing open, let's see what sort of trouble I can get into.

First off, I have three things that I want to tell everyone:

1. Thank God they found Aggie Flint. I haven't been to see her (I don't think they're letting just friends in yet, but if they are-- someone tell me.) but it's a bright spot in the middle of all the dark that she's alive.

2. Merlin can sing. No, really, he can sing.

3. If you buy a pair of trousers two sizes too small and don't wear robes over them, and you walk near the bar in the restaurant? You're more likely to get stares. Jo would never have let me wear them, but that was a good decision. Three sets of Apparation Coordinates and one that wanted to follow me right home.


Now. Everyone else tell me things, I feel a little out of the loop.

Before Witch Weekly has a chance to get on the story, let me just say that Naomi and I didn't have the sort of fight they made it out to be. Yes, we fought a little, but it was more a strong discussion than a fight.

And yes, I was in mental rehab St Mungo's for about a week, and yes it was because of my brother. But did we really expect much more?

I'm fine, now, though, they gave me enough potions to make me forget for another year and you should all direct your attention to the Esteemed Aurors Frank and Alice Longarsebottom, who are having a baby pretty soon. It's pretty messed up to think of Frank shagging anyone, let alone Alice, but it seems to have brought them to a favourable enough end, aye?

Another reason why my life is bloody brilliant:

This morning, I woke up naked next to an adorable girl, who also just so happened to be completely without clothes.



It's definitely been a great start to my twenty-first year.

You may all commence being jealous.

Question for you all:

Does it count as stealing when you know what it is you stole needed to be taken away from her its previous parents owners?

( Private )

Nice day we're having, isn't it?

I keep having these dreams...


Restaurant, restaurant, restaurant. Everything's about the bloody restaurant lately and I, for one, am getting a little sick of it. Maybe I need a holiday or something like that... a last summer break before the winter and rain and snow and general disgustingness that is England When It's Not Summer sets in. At least when it's cold I'll be more than glad to get inside and do something. For now, though, nope. Not happening.

I hear Spain and Portugal are nice this time of year.

Anyone interested in going? I'd go alone, but, as you all know, bird watching isn't as fun when there isn't someone to compare ideas with. Thinking of next week, as well.

It's that bloody snowman again.

Let me tell you a little story.

Once upon a time, a little boy named Durin was having a huge craving for ice creams at his favorite ice cream shop. He knew he shouldn't eat it before breakfast, but that hardly stopped him as he Apparated down to London and into the empty Alley to get some of his favourite flavour. Only, when he arrived in front of the shop, it was almost completely gone! Broken! Destroyed, even! Sad, Durin had to go back to the only other ice cream shop he knew of, which was a very long way away, even by Apparating!



Now, I know that Diagon Alley was hit and all, but Florean Fortescues?? Come on, you lot, it's ice cream. Ice cream never hurt anyone! I had to go all the way down to Devonshire just to get a decent scoop because someone's got all that about how they're better than everyone else stuck in their heads.

Disgusted doesn't even begin it.



That shop didn't even have triple strawberry.

I wish I had something interesting to tell you lot, but I don't.

( Durin's Eyes Only )

Happy Birthday, Mona! (D'you like those flowers I sent along? Hand picked them from the picture myself.)

[This is, of course, blocked from Frankie-darling]

All right, men. Gabe. You especially.

Tonight, as you know, is our Dear Frank Longbottom's last night of freedom. Sad, I know, but it is his decision and we will Respect That. Right.

ANYWAY.

Who's with me for a night of hedonism, imbibery, and all around good fun featuring our soon-to-be-married best mate? And if not, you'd better have a damn good excuse why. I'm giving up a date with an incredibly attractive ginger bird from Glasgow because of this. Not that I mind, of course, but I will not be the only one seeing to Frank's Thorough Smashing Before Alice Takes Over.

Ha! You all thought I'd fallen off the face of the earth, didn't you? Not so lucky, there, are you?

No, in fact, I've simply been busy. And by busy I mean drunk. And social. And in Thailand. A little of all four. I think. You see, it's the drunk part that messes me up because I can never remember.

I seem to have lost Benedikte on the way, though. Sad, that. I really liked her. Maybe she'll pop around to get this robe she left on my bathroom door. Or maybe that's mine. It smells a little like her, but that doesn't mean anything.

(And, so you all know, Patricia's getting huge! Not in a bad way, just that she's growing up. And she's pretty. Just like her Mum.)