I don't know why you've been so afraid of being sacked. It's much more liberating than anticipated (apparently!). Made redundant by memo; surely that's some fashion of badge of honour in one circle or another. No doubt it will give me loads of credibility amongst the more creative set, who, ideally, will create some sort of fantastical mythos for me. Too wild for an office environment. Too unrestrained.

(Little will they suspect it had to do with my wife's involvement in counter-governmental activities, given that I'm positive someone pulled some strings in the Ministry, cut some strings to cut me loos own massive incompetence! Not to mention my abysmal attempts at coffee.)

I haven't told Emme. I will, of course, as doubtlessly she will hear it through the gossip chain soon enough, but I am loathe to add to her concerns. She has so many. I want our time together to be the good aspects of her life day, because we've wasted so much time already, lost it really, been robbed of it, and who knows how much we've got left together. I don't want us to end up like Cyril & Imogen.

My wife. My best bloody friend. I've written her a song. It's all I can do. Every time I try to write word one about her it all comes out as music.

I've also written another. A song, about the war. About all of this. Surely Emme has contacts at The Tube?

[Warded to Cyril]

To be fair, you forgot mine too.

[Warded to Cyril]

You've nothing to fear. She won't tell anyone.

[Warded to Sirius Black]

I know we share little but a pair of several cousins and at least one mutual acquaintance, but all the same I wanted to apologise for my behaviour the other night when we met. I was, as I'm sure was evident, not myself, and though I know it's a poor excuse for such unmannerly conduct, I'd like to think that otherwise I would have been much more cordial (especially to someone being in turn so friendly and accomodating in such an awkward situation).

I'm not sure if you brought Emmeline to the club for the express purpose of exposing her to my -- well, duplicity, I suppose, or if your visit was simply coincidence, but regardless, I wanted to thank you. It made me reflect on quite a number of things that were long overdue for reflection, and I am impossibly grateful for the catalyst that brought them to the fore.

Thank you also for your compliments. Finding myself now in a more coherant frame of mind, they are greatly appreciated.

I envy yo

Thank you, Mr Black.

[Warded to Emmeline:]

I read your le
How are yo
Would you like t

This feels strange. Is this strange?

[Warded to Cyril:]

Clearing his throat with a sound not akin to the thunderous clamour of Odin's eight-legged warhorse Sleipnir charging into bloody battle, the young man leans forward (intent! grave!) and speaks:

"Cyril, there's something I need to tell you," he begins. "First of all I should probably mention that I've worn out my writing hand and borrowed a dicta-quill from our father's study, and I'm beginning to worry it's the one he wrote his books with."

A pregnant pause! The silence that follows it not unlike the deceptive pre-dawn quiet of the Serengeti.

"... it's writing an awful lot down."

[Warded to Cyril]

I can't do it, Cyr

[Warded to Emmelin

[Warded to Damocles]

How obvious was my admiration for Portia?

[Warded to Emmeline]

I certainly hope you've managed a little sleep.

How is Nora doing?

[Warded to Cyril, Paul, & Damocles]

I know these are extremely busy times we find ourselves in (we in this instance not applying to Cyril), but is there any chance you three might be able to make it to Ingleton this Saturday afternoon for a meeting with the tailor? For the wedding. For your robes.

I cannot promise that my mother won't want to offer the occasional comment on how darling we are going to look (particularly Belby, as I believe she's partial to your glasses), but I can promise a round at the pub directly following.

I am going to look back on this later and regret it, truly regret it, but I'm beginning to panic abou

I need advice and I cannot (will not) request it face-to-face.

(It's exceedingly personal in nature and if you so much as whisper it to the goose, I am coming at you with the one decorative sword of father's mother hasn't sold yet.)

[Warded to Emmeline]

Forgive me the delay -- do you need anything? Say the word, I'll see to it.

This claim could be premature, but I may have (and please brace yourself, you'll startle Queen Hortense if you gasp) may have just made the perfect cup of tea.

I might yet prove able to replicate its like, should Jupiter not strike me down for so recklessly flaunting such mortal folly. If my efforts prove fruitful, shall I bring it by your desk, so that you might judge for yourself?

(And if you don't want a cup of tea, I have something that will make you laugh.)

[Warded to Cyril:]

I understand that in times such as these my our problems often pale in comparison to those of so many others, but that said:

Your wife has bought a goose and named it Cecil. She introduced me to it (and it to me) this afternoon.

For the record, should you speak with her, I am delighted.

(But between us, why has Imogen bought a goose and named it Cecil, Cyril?)

Sanity report?

You do understand you're both groomsmen, right?

Please communicate any & all objections post haste, so that I might have the time to find suitable replacements (such as my dog, who is female but a very quick learner). Gabriel (Emmeline's brother) will hopefully be among your number as well, and Cyril will of course be Best Man (which you are free to laugh about at your leisure).

The wedding's March 13th. I think I mentioned that before.

I want to hug you again. Let me hug you again.

The sun still came out this morning (I think, it's been rather overcast), which I believe means we made it through last night alive. Could have been worse, right? Could have been Februar I mean, not much worse, but I suppose the roof could have collapsed, or the floor could have turned to lava, or Imogen could have brought her cat. And Conrad didn't vomit! Silver lining after silver lining.

I'm so sor Sickle for your thoughts?

This must be All this The past week must have been very difficult for Andromeda.

No better time for that drink I owe you.

I'm not sure if you've What do you know of Emme:

I'm back in London for the time being, staying with my mother at Cyril's. My Uncle C Cygn My aunt's husband was killed today.

Full moon or not, mother claims the countryside is doing a number on her nerves. Congratulations! As I write this she is preparing to Floo (back) to your place.

Had a chance to breathe yet?