31 March 1982
Viv, I miss my hair. I never thought I'd say it because it's not like I appreciated it when I had it or anything like that, but I miss it. Do you want to know why? I'll tell you anyway. I was heading to work today (I've been walking, it's such good exercise and it's not very far) and I saw a girl with my colour hair and the texture and everything at a cafe sitting outside. I don't know why she was sitting outside, I think she must have been mad personally because it was drizzly and unpleasant, but. But. But! She had her hair half up in the exact style I used to do it, except I think she actually had something holding the braid in instead of just letting it unravel lazily at the end, which was very commendable of her I'm sure. She was sitting with her head slightly away from the awning with a book safely under it at arms length, and she was reading it and the droplets in her curls were just so pretty that I had a pang. And I wanted to chop her locks off and make them into a nice little wig for my personal use, but I refrained because I think that's against the law. Or if it isn't it should be. I am a demented maniac sometimes, and should be locked up, as opposed to all the charming, friendly undemented maniacs you meet who aren't a danger to society, or at least society's coiffure. Which is rather hilarious, all things considering.
I didn't attack her, so you know. In case you were wondering. I did gaze at her a teensy bit too long, though. Why is it our society doesn't allow us to look at people? Even people who aren't perfect strangers! It's not fair that my favourite past-time is considered creepy by the vast majority of our culture. It would be perfectly all right if I were artistic and they were paying me to make a likeness of them, but if I'm painting the portrait in my head that's not acceptable because it's liable to disturb people.
Anyway, she looked up and I went along and I'm still shorn and torn about it. It's stupid because I could have it again, and I wouldn't even have to wait. It's easy enough to charm your hair out. It's not very healthy to do it too often, but it's a very simple charm and you only have to do it the once (although you have to make sure you stop it properly). But I wouldn't take care of it. I didn't before, and I know a good deal more about taking care of it now, it's true, but I'm so abominably lazy when it comes to my personal appearance that it's best to keep things as out of the way as possible (Yes, I know that's silly and hypocritical of me, but I never claimed to practice what I preach. Or did I?). And that includes hair, unfortunately, much as I miss the curls sometimes.
Please don't tell Syd I thought about growing/charming it out again. He's only just getting used to this still, and I think he misses my femininity even if he won't admit it to my face.
And Sam. I hate to say it because he'd gloat if he knew, but I'm worried too. I know it's only Sam and he's not likely to be a target like the Longbottoms were, because really, what could he possibly know? And it's been months since anything like that happened. But it had been a month and a bit then too, and it... well. I didn't really know them, just of them, but it was still awful. I don't think that's likely to happen again though, is it? I can't think it would. It's been longer this time, and surely anything that's likely to happen would have happened by now. Any repercussions or what have you, anyway.
I saw Janet the other day, but she never said a word about you. I wonder why? It's not close enough to your birthday to be planning a party, and even if it was I'm sure they'd tell me so I could ruin everything.
I'm sorry. Am I being too flip? You know how Auntie always accuses me of being so. It's difficult to turn off. I am worried, you know I am. I just can't hold the expression for long, at least not after doing it all through the war. And London. All right, it hasn't changed. Not much, anyway. But if it changed too much it wouldn't be London, would it? At least, not the London I'm used to. I think it will someday. Muggle London is lovely already, I take walks around it just to see how normal everyone is. Can you believe most of them didn't have a clue about the war? Except for the ones with wizards in the family, they just thought all the attacks were random and unconnected. That must have been nice to not dread anything except perhaps the sudden insane crime rate. Or was it worse to not know what was going on? Did not knowing what to fear make them fear everything? It doesn't seem that way. It seems like we could have all killed ourselves without them hardly noticing. Do you think we're really that unimportant in the great scheme of things, Viv? I know they outnumber us by a ridiculous amount, but do you think that if we all died they'd just think we were some strange cult and then move on with their lives as if nothing ever happened? We're so disconnected, really. I never realized until Syd, but we really don't mingle. And we ought to do.
Morbid. Sorry again. It's been a bad day, I have to admit. People rushing in and out of the salon all day today making silly demands of me, and then who should appear near the end of my shift but that horrible Jeanne Hopkins. I hated her in school and I hate her still, and so of course she had to come and harass me at work where I can't even slit her throat with a pair of scissors without getting fired. Customer service my appendix. She has it coming to her. She's dating a boy (not a man, a boy, he's a complete imbecile which makes them a charming couple of course) who's a clerk in the Wizengamot so naturally she knows all about poor Gunther and naturally she only bothers to talk about the things that make him look guilty.
I won't go into detail. My hands are still shaking too hard and I'd rip the parchment and end up having to write everything all over again and probably shatter my inkwell against the wall. Wouldn't it make a lovely smash? And the stain would be horrific too. But suffice to say I've had three cups of tea since I got home and I'm strongly inclined to buy a pack of fags. Why did I ever quit smoking?
The worst part is that Hopkins is such a horrible gossip. I don't want everyone to know what happened. I suppose it might'nt be such a great deal - there are so many cases like his that maybe he'd get lost in the whole disgusting mess. I think he'd prefer that, and I'm sure Auntie and Uncle would as well. I think I would too. They don't need this. None of us do. Especially as Gunther is not guilty.
I'm sorry, that was longer than I expected. Don't worry about borrowing Rupert, especially to help in the search for Sam. Is there anything I can do? I'm a little more able to move around, you know, that makes me an excellent resource. And it will give me an excuse to avoid relatives for awhile. I'd feel sorry for leaving Syd to fend them off, but he's fine, he never even answers the door if I'm not home unless he's ordered takeaway. That's the nice thing about being in love with a muggleborn and he with you, they know how to work things like telephones.
Not-Mary sounds like a nice little thing, and I wonder how Dardanos managed to get her. He's certainly not nice. I hope he doesn't browbeat her. He wouldn't lay a hand on a woman, at least not if he's still the Dardanos I know and know, but unintentional emotional bullying would be very like him.I hope I can meet her when I come visit.
I don't like the sound of "Gorgeous in that restrained way". I like the name Albert, but not the description (although I'm sure it's apt). Ghosts have no business being attractive, especially ones on your property. Are you sure you didn't imagine him? Not that your boathouse (Was it a boathouse? I can't find your earlier letter to check.) isn't capable of housing ghosts, but he could have some kind of awful tragic story and then you'd have to go fall in love with him, and that could be rather awkward at family get-togethers. Although that would make my choice in a love look more reputable, which is a point in Albert's favour.
Merlin, this is a dull letter. I'd tear it up and rewrite, but I haven't the energy to-day. Good night, my love, and may flights of angels sing you to your sleep or something along those lines. I told you I'm not meant to be an actress.