I've taken up temporary residence in the up to date and trendy world of Harry Potter. Yes, even at my advanced age becoming a wizard was always an option. It hasn't been easy however, what with all those incomprehensible spells to learn, all the infighting and the shocking amounts of food that's wasted daily. Politics and human nature do spoil everything. Too much drama really and no time to carry out any proper scientific research into dark magic, life after death and the like.
Anyway I've got a nice cat, a quill pen and some sort of uncomfortable hoodie from Temu to wear. It's probably a bit like working as a comedy writer for the BBC might have been, before colour TV was invented, not that I've ever had the privilege of holding such a free and creative type of position or that I can write comedy.
They tell me a new wizarding adventure is just around the corner, somewhere past the old lady's shrunken head shop and beyond the wobbly tree. At least, due to my collection of well and truly lived in years, I don't have annoying, trumpeting parents to deal with unlike all the spoiled screen fixated and pixelated brats in my various classes. My spirit animal is now a magpie in case you were wondering. Perhaps I'm living in the wrong book?
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