(no subject)
Christmas was very pleasant. I gave various useful presents (Japanese bowls for my mother, white hat and mittens for my grandfather, etc.) and received all sorts of objects for the flat, as well as a brown skirt and tweedy pullover that make me look positively professorial. (Pity I'll be wearing robes over them.) My grandfather told me all about a harvest festival in Burma, where he was during the Second World War, in which the women chase the men around with cups of water until everyone is soaking wet; and he admired the hat I gave him, and took Saint Jerome on his lap, and managed to pet Saint Martin, and declared that though he had never wished to know Crookshanks, my other cats were quite acceptable; so I have hopes that this year I will be Approved. And then Harry appeared, quite unexpectedly, and gave me silver earrings and a wizarding atlas (and I gave him a glass for sipping scotch, enchanted never to break) and we spent the night curled into my single bed, with Jerome atop my feet.