The Last Station

My Nana sent me a present today, along with a pamphlet about making a donation to a granian breeding program. (Her latest craze, I assume.) It's some kind of wire statue ... thing. I mean, it's obviously a winged horse, but I thought granians were supposed to be grey? And that doesn't even begin to explain why it has a horn.

Terry, if you had anything to do with this

( It's definitely unique. )

Violet, bless her traitorous little heart, prefers the blue, red, and yellow sugar quills at Honeydukes. The green quills? 'No,' she tells her poor father. What's more important, of course, is why didn't the sweet shop sell House sugar quills when we were in school? And why do they still sell blood-flavoured lollies? They don't really contain blood, d--

No one warns you that fatherhood is rife with heartbreak - or so few opportunities to drink. If you ask me, June is enough reason for that, and Roger keeps going on and on about Muggle bar-bee-qs. Is that right? Who fancies a bit of a do this weekend?