I suppose it's daft to miss school, and I don't think I actually miss having a lesson - sorry, Hermione - but I miss Hogwarts. The smell of the stone and fireplaces, and the treacle tarts. It's hot in London, and quite smelly, but after four or so days of catching fish in the pond behind the Burrow, we had to get away for a little while. So, Ron and I are out, um, getting... ice cream. Yeah. I may have picked up a parcel for someone containing soft-blue parchment and ink. And Gobstones, although I reckon I don't really know how to play.
Okay, Ron's getting chocolates and enough sweets to weigh down by a few stones so I should, um, assist.