My dear Mother has fallen ill. The healers say she won't make it through the week. It really is a shame. There is so much to write about, but I haven't had the time. She's at my home because I didn't want her to die in hospital. Once she's gone I'll get back to writing.
She fell ill on my birthday a week ago. Is that just cruel?
Things have been entirely too quiet as of late. Where is the intrigue? Where is the scandal? Come on people, you're boring. My mother always said I wouldn't be happy unless something was exploding, I suppose she was right.
The hols flew by me, but I'm rather glad they're over to be completely honest with you. I'm looking into buying a house of some sort, but I don't know the first thing about it. The royalties off of my last book have been keeping me in this ruddy apartment, but I really think it's time to move on.
I haven't had a single minute to myself this Holiday. So you'll have to forgive me because I haven't got presents for anyone. I think I will stop by Diagon Alley tomorrow and grab a couple of gift certificate for everyone, but in the meantime, my apologies!
I've been working on a new story for The Daily Prophet that I think is going to blow the socks off of my last big story. I can't say what I'm working on, but I guarantee you it's going to be huge. I love life.