"Yes, you were rather a disaster in the sky, weren't you?" Angela smirked. If they'd still been at Hogwarts, no doubt that comment would have gotten her hexed or at the very least hit with something. But now they were both adults. Which really only meant that the hexes would be more sophisticated.
As for her, she missed flying. Although she'd been in airplanes, there was nothing like the sheer freedom and solitude of flying on a broom. Airplanes, wonderous though they were, also packed you in like sardines, which she found robustly unpleasant, although she appreciated the packets of small nuts. One airline even had ginger type cookies.
"Yes, he does." Angela agreed, then laughed, "I don't suppose I ever thought of Gilbert as 'cute', but he is adorable, isn't he?" For different types of 'cute', of course, "Yes, we had...vigorous discussions on history." She snorted.
She ran a finger along her wand, feeling the slight tingle of its and her magic, the small trickle to other wizards' floods, "It is my wand. And therefore I decide what to do with it. I have my mother's wand; I used it to learn before I went to Ollivander's and I don't perform any complex spells anyway. It will be fine." In fact, given the choice between giving Hestia her wand and giving her her mother's wand, Angela would give Hestia her own. She did not feel she could make such a choice about her mother's wand.
"You won't break it. I trust you."
And it was hard to explain how, if Hestia did break it, it would sadden her, but...it would be akin to her son ruining her favorite cauldron, or crashing her favorite car. Angela was attached to her wand, but it was as a favored tool, not as a stand-in for herself. She'd gone years without even wielding it once. Indeed, she and her wand had always had a rather cautious truce, with most of their relationship consisting of her cajoling and then screaming in frustration. It was not necessary for her.