HP: Molly Weasley - Entry from Late Fall, 1978
I've just placed all the children to bed, even Fred & George. I wonder if they'll make it through this night for once, as it's why I haven't been able to touch this thing in ages. They've managed to figure out the mechanics of crawling, & although it isn't far, they seem to take after both father & uncles. & when that happens, what is one to do?! I was spoilt with Percy, I suppose, who is all quiet even now & only manages to rebel by placing on mismatching clothes in the morning. (My wee boy can dress himself now!! How exciting!!)
But I am sorry that it has taken me until now to read this, for many new faces & thoughts are using this interworking net of books that haven't before. When I first was given a diary (answer to "when": ages ago), it was a constant source of a bunch of the typical teenage "I ♥ SO AND SO" & it happened to also be much of what I read. Now, my diary has found thoughtful contemporaries w/cheerful (or realistic) voices. It's a delightful connection to the outside world, I think.
And we're set to grow. With such lovely reforms, though, it's as if the Ministry's sprinkled yeast into that puffy Death Eater dough and set it to inflate to ten times its size. (Leave it to me to set all analogies to cooking, of course, but it is so easy, after all.) I would write, "Oh, this is so nasty, etc.," but I have no idea what to say that would be constructive & hasn't been captured by better & more brilliant minds! It's been nothing but throwing your hands up at the stupid newspaper & then going to Witch Weekly for recipes for the week. But with registry comes what, then? I can't even bear to write it, for I'll only be put to fits & wake children & Arthur.
At least I can take heart in the fact that we're a strong lot & we'll only take stronger and stronger. The best bakers for this job, I think, if I must insist on continuing my analogy, which I do. It is my diary, after all. & we're lead by the cleverest, fortified by the cleverest. Our history, I am determined to say, is bright.
But I am sorry that it has taken me until now to read this, for many new faces & thoughts are using this interworking net of books that haven't before. When I first was given a diary (answer to "when": ages ago), it was a constant source of a bunch of the typical teenage "I ♥ SO AND SO" & it happened to also be much of what I read. Now, my diary has found thoughtful contemporaries w/cheerful (or realistic) voices. It's a delightful connection to the outside world, I think.
And we're set to grow. With such lovely reforms, though, it's as if the Ministry's sprinkled yeast into that puffy Death Eater dough and set it to inflate to ten times its size. (Leave it to me to set all analogies to cooking, of course, but it is so easy, after all.) I would write, "Oh, this is so nasty, etc.," but I have no idea what to say that would be constructive & hasn't been captured by better & more brilliant minds! It's been nothing but throwing your hands up at the stupid newspaper & then going to Witch Weekly for recipes for the week. But with registry comes what, then? I can't even bear to write it, for I'll only be put to fits & wake children & Arthur.
At least I can take heart in the fact that we're a strong lot & we'll only take stronger and stronger. The best bakers for this job, I think, if I must insist on continuing my analogy, which I do. It is my diary, after all. & we're lead by the cleverest, fortified by the cleverest. Our history, I am determined to say, is bright.