(no subject)
Well, five hours of dragging and being dragged across the British countryside by my aunts turned up two furtive parent types, covered in mud. On a donkey.
Somehow, none of us were terribly surprised that they hadn't gotten very far.
At any rate, a letter, just to seal the deal (a end/beginning sort of thing, if you will):
Dear Emm,
I'm not talking to you.
Love,
your Mum
P.S. This letter does not count.
P.P.S. Nor does the post script.
P.P.S. Oh bugger.
And, for Marlene, as she has nearly wet herself strangled me with excitement:
She wanted to get you a sandwich, too, as they passed the town of Sandwich on their rather scenic route to London, but I convinced her that the House-Elves can do it better. And he's holding a sandwich anyway, or so I chose to believe, against the commonly held belief that it is a cow pat or a beer mug.
Somehow, none of us were terribly surprised that they hadn't gotten very far.
At any rate, a letter, just to seal the deal (a end/beginning sort of thing, if you will):
Dear Emm,
I'm not talking to you.
Love,
your Mum
P.S. This letter does not count.
P.P.S. Nor does the post script.
P.P.S. Oh bugger.
And, for Marlene, as she has nearly wet herself strangled me with excitement:
She wanted to get you a sandwich, too, as they passed the town of Sandwich on their rather scenic route to London, but I convinced her that the House-Elves can do it better. And he's holding a sandwich anyway, or so I chose to believe, against the commonly held belief that it is a cow pat or a beer mug.