| potterstinks @ 2003-08-16 17:34:00 |
| Current mood: | enraged |
I'm still on the Italian Riviera, My Mother is still in her chambers and now she's started sending large objects flying around the entire villa. I went for a walk last night and the fat old Antonino wizard up the road asked if I'd got burnt in a pot of boiling water because my nose is peeling off. Yes, that's right. The skin on my nose is peeling off. I don't see how this became nothing to bat your eyes about. Isn't it a bit odd that we don't find anything unusual about my skin coming off in sheets?
In any case, Father and I had dinner in Paris the other evening. I rather suspect he was seeking refuge from his own quarters as I was from mine, so it was an enjoyable dinner. Fortunately, since the last time I've been to France, I've learnt a spell to turn French words into English words, so for once I was able to order food without concern that I might inadvertently be ordering octopus tentacles to eat.
Mother's been certain to come around and kiss me before bed each evening, and she seems relatively interested in having the two of us go out for some sort of daytrip this week. I'm not entirely sure where she'd like to go, but My Parents both have flawless taste in activities, so I'm certain that whatever she chooses shall be fine.
There's an Italian sort of Diagon Alley up in North Italy that I've been to, though of course I can't purchase any of my needed materials there. Anyway, their wandcores are different here, as are the woods themselves. The wizard at the wand shop seemed relatively similar to Mr Ollivander, though, in that he seemed quite insane. I went in and he started calling me Draco Malfoy and telling me that I'd already got my wand and couldn't have another. As though I'm not allowed to look around wand shops just because I've already got mine. I mean really.
Finnigan hunted me down on instant messenger the other evening while I was bored and rambled oddly about destroying different pieces of furniture. I'm not entirely certain why Finnigan should want to inform me of these sorts of things, but to each their own, I suppose. I was so pleased to hear about it that I promptly swallowed an entire jar of liquid death. If only people who weren't me had heard of discretion.
For instance, I find it positively tactless the way some people persist in having rows in public. Do you really believe the rest of us care about your problems? Do you really think no one's noticed? Lord, at the rate people are going, you'd think they didn't even care who's reading their journals. I, for one, am well aware of the fact that everyone can read my journal, and I'd think that some people would do well to remember that as well.
Anyway, I suppose my holiday is going successfully. I've lounged and done nothing, which was right at the top of my To Do List. I've also managed to Apparate into the middle of some Muggle woman's house without getting caught, which I found particularly impressive. Actually, I was only doing so to prove that I could, since she had all sorts of elaborate notices up regarding the security on her home. Muggles seem to find themselves entirely infallible, which only proves their stupidity. Her bungalow of a house was rather boring, but I suppose it's of interest that I've been into a Muggle's house now. I'd only ever been into Potter's Muggles' house before, you see, and even then it was just in Potter's room, so I've not really had the opportunity to look around at the way Muggles build their habitats.
This Italian woman had at least six dogs that I counted, all of them smelly and loud of course, since Muggles are too stupid to get pets that aren't so excitable. She had all sorts of weird black and silver boxes all over the place, though I think one of them blew up when I picked it up. Oh, well. I had no idea what any of it was, as I don't bother with Muggle Studies. Her rugs were pink. It was entirely atrocious. Then I heard someone coming down the stairs, so I Apparated in a panic and found myself in the middle of a market in the produce section. Somehow I ended up being forced to buy onions, and now I've no idea what I'm going to do with them.
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