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[24 Apr 2008|10:34pm] |
Of all the journalists, of all the periodicals, they have Gilderoy Lockhart write about Arcturus Black in Witch bloody Weekly.
DE supporters.Insult to injury.
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[23 Apr 2008|10:23pm] |
Just read the article.
How can they trust an anonymous tip against anyone? Is an unknown person's account of things reliable enough for the Ministry to take such drastic actions? It's Arcturus Black, for Merlin's sake. He's no minimum wage member of society, he's a Black.
And they say Purebloods are the Purists. Typical.
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[19 Apr 2008|11:28pm] |
If cuff links grew on trees, I would plant a forest in my backyard.
Warded private to self but readable to Prior’s friends.Persephone’s birthday is tomorrow. I don’t know what to do. Can’t give her chocolates because that is bloody cliché and I’ve done that too many times to my mother. Don’t want to give her something I give my mother. If she finds out, I don’t know what will happen.
Talked to cousin George. He suggested a nice dinner. We’ve had dinner and that didn’t go well. We need a distraction if we’re to spend the whole night together. Said this, cousin Victor suggested travelling. I agree.
Travel, travel, travel, travel.
But where to?
England is scenic but we’re all tired of England after more than twenty years living in it. Been to dad’s cottage up north, been to the beach, been to everywhere. Something new, something different.
France? I hear France is terrific this time of year. Or was that Spain?—Spain is always terrific, or so Eutropia says. She got married there a couple of years back. So far, she hasn’t regretted it. (Spain, not the marriage.)
Italy? Italy! Genius. I’ll take her to Italy. Shall owl Theodore Jo Port Jame Alu Alb Alfred. The travel man, Alfred. Owl him, ask mum about Italy in a very innocent/ignorant/passing manner, wake Persephone up tomorrow morning, drag her around Italy, wear her out, tire her, then make sure she’s annoyed with me enough to be very relieved that I’m treating her to dinner!
Not quite. Something more, something special.
George suggested a night in Venice. Told George if I had that in mind, I wouldn’t even need Italy to make it happen. I have a bloody bed in my own home too. Then Victor brought up the travelling circus, The Artyom, doing a show tomorrow night at Toulouse. It would require a more powerful portkey to bring us from Italy to France but that aside, it’s perfect. Perfect.
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[15 Apr 2008|12:14am] |
I feel the need to make a man out of myself. It’s an odd feeling, but I welcome it.
Very very private to self.
Had dinner with Persephone last night. Am at work, it’s noon, and I’m hungry. Also, I’m rather distracted. Argued with her over my mother, her mother, and the wedding. Looking back, it’s so stupid. It’s our wedding and I know she’s doing her best. Alright, I can be stupid, even my sense of better judgment. Can’t believe my future wife and I argued over my mother. But mum has a point sometimes and Persephone can be stubborn more often than she’d like to admit.
Is married life going to be like this forever? Am I going to have to choose between my mum and my wife when I make decisions?—All the bloody time?
Talked to dad. He said mothers shouldn’t really lord over their son (and daughter, for that matter) when he’s starting his own family. Said I should tell mum off. I can’t do that. She’s my mum. If she thinks the drapes are ugly, I’ll probably believe her. I’ve seen the family house, after all, and the drapes are nice. So are the furniture, the food, and everything. How can I not believe my mother, who’s put the whole house together for the past few years? Told dad this. He brushed it off and said that Persephone will learn eventually. I should give her time. I believe him.
Talked to sisters about this. Everild says Balthazar had the same conflict with his mum. It’s normal, I shouldn’t worry. But I still do. I don’t like it when I’m torn between mother and wife. Told Balthazar this. He knows how it feels. I’m not alone, and am relieved. Eutropia just laughed when I told her about it. She disagrees with everything mum says. I asked why, she laughed again, and I’m led to believe that no one’s taking my wedding plans very seriously. Except mum but that’s expected. (And maybe dad but he hardly takes any of us seriously anymore. Probably comes with the age.)
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