After that brief stretch of melancholia, I'm glad to say that things seem to be looking up. My garden is coming along, and it seems as if summer is just around the corner
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I'm afraid that I can't give you a yes or no until I know where you will be dining, Arabella. Though I delight in a good fish and chip shoppe, they give my stomach a turn that not even Poppy can settle. It all started back when they stopped wrapping the mounds of fish and chips in old editions of The Daily Prophet. A chip doesn't taste quite the same when I can't read about events from 1987 while I eat it.
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Allow me to owl you, then? After all, it'd be more than fool hardy to say so here.
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