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Peeking in the Pensieve
Izzie slinks in from what has become an icky sticky and very nasty muggy day. That's what you get for gloating at poor pickled Sydneysiders being baked alive.
The day started most gorgeously indeed. Had our bottlie and cheese and chickpea flavoured freshly baked buns all packed and ready to go as well as some very tasty and exotic choccies.
Like last year, the Izzie knew that we were going to have to share our sacred site with a bunch of Muggles, all who had turned up for the afternoon concert at 2pm so there would be no sitting under our favorite plane tree at 3.30 toasting to our favorite Rat and to the new year. But not to worry - plenty of spots on the other side of the building away from the crowds. That's what you get when 2nd January falls on a public holiday like it did this time. There was also concerts yesterday but the Iz had other plans.
Sharing the Garden of Arcane Delights with muggles is one thing but we certainly did not expect to be sharing with blowflies. From about 1pm the little buggers gradually increased in number and the Iz could feel the gradual transition from a crisp crunchy beautiful breezie day to increased icky stickiness and humidity and we have now confirmed beyond all belief that unless we keep an eye on the bugger, the inner serpent grows increasingly irritable with such change.
But forewarned is forearmed so it did not upset us as much as would have been expected. So, as well as reading from two very delightful books - one for the zillionth time - and still finding new and unexpected things and one for the very first time - a most wickedly wonderful and very catty vampire tale (Izzie is so so going to have to read the original now) the Iz also found time to squiggle in her little green book and reminisce and read snippets from an old one. Hard to believe it was four years ago now. Sometimes only feels like yesterday.
It was with much amusement that the Iz looked back on those old squiggles - especially the one that we had written on Wednesday 2nd January in that very same place along the lines "I have the sneaking suspicion that 2002 is going to be a good year in spite of having dreamed this morning of being nearly kissed by a Dementor" Most prophetic words indeed.
Turned out to be the bestest year ever for the Izzie - who by the way - we adopted that name the very same day so there's many reasons to have most fond memories and celebrations.
We also discovered the mystery of the Diva of Death - Diamanda Galas and the reason why we did not go to the concert which was at the beginning of 2001. She was on the radio Christmas Day - scary spooky amazing stuff. If she ever does darken the doors of Dursleyville again, the Izzie will most certainly be going to see her show.
But all that will have to wait for another day. Izzie has only 10 mins left in this netcafe and will most likely not be lurking in Cyberia until some time on Thursday. Got 6 hours left in the netcafe we visited this morning but 6 hours is not much use when you haven't got the bus fare to get there and it's too far to broom it.
So, time to slink about other corners of Secret Diary Land and wish a safe and prosperous 2006 to all our friendseses and associates.
The day started most gorgeously indeed. Had our bottlie and cheese and chickpea flavoured freshly baked buns all packed and ready to go as well as some very tasty and exotic choccies.
Like last year, the Izzie knew that we were going to have to share our sacred site with a bunch of Muggles, all who had turned up for the afternoon concert at 2pm so there would be no sitting under our favorite plane tree at 3.30 toasting to our favorite Rat and to the new year. But not to worry - plenty of spots on the other side of the building away from the crowds. That's what you get when 2nd January falls on a public holiday like it did this time. There was also concerts yesterday but the Iz had other plans.
Sharing the Garden of Arcane Delights with muggles is one thing but we certainly did not expect to be sharing with blowflies. From about 1pm the little buggers gradually increased in number and the Iz could feel the gradual transition from a crisp crunchy beautiful breezie day to increased icky stickiness and humidity and we have now confirmed beyond all belief that unless we keep an eye on the bugger, the inner serpent grows increasingly irritable with such change.
But forewarned is forearmed so it did not upset us as much as would have been expected. So, as well as reading from two very delightful books - one for the zillionth time - and still finding new and unexpected things and one for the very first time - a most wickedly wonderful and very catty vampire tale (Izzie is so so going to have to read the original now) the Iz also found time to squiggle in her little green book and reminisce and read snippets from an old one. Hard to believe it was four years ago now. Sometimes only feels like yesterday.
It was with much amusement that the Iz looked back on those old squiggles - especially the one that we had written on Wednesday 2nd January in that very same place along the lines "I have the sneaking suspicion that 2002 is going to be a good year in spite of having dreamed this morning of being nearly kissed by a Dementor" Most prophetic words indeed.
Turned out to be the bestest year ever for the Izzie - who by the way - we adopted that name the very same day so there's many reasons to have most fond memories and celebrations.
We also discovered the mystery of the Diva of Death - Diamanda Galas and the reason why we did not go to the concert which was at the beginning of 2001. She was on the radio Christmas Day - scary spooky amazing stuff. If she ever does darken the doors of Dursleyville again, the Izzie will most certainly be going to see her show.
But all that will have to wait for another day. Izzie has only 10 mins left in this netcafe and will most likely not be lurking in Cyberia until some time on Thursday. Got 6 hours left in the netcafe we visited this morning but 6 hours is not much use when you haven't got the bus fare to get there and it's too far to broom it.
So, time to slink about other corners of Secret Diary Land and wish a safe and prosperous 2006 to all our friendseses and associates.
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A quite appropriate poem really for January -
G'day, G'day. Beg your pardon.
I am here to wreck your garden:
Tongue is cracked; claws are hot;
I've got prickles in my bot;
On my back some nasty fires
Caused by snapped electric wires;
Eyes like newly broken bottles;
Lips are dead and twisted wattles;
I breathe blow flies, - what a bummer.
Hey? G'day, I am summer!