Private Journal (Letter 4)
Prongs,
Have I mentioned yet how sodding boring this place is? It's a bit like one of those muggle mouse traps that we were mucking about with in our first year. You know, that time we stuck it in Pete's sock drawer and it set off when he tried to get dressed that morning. Yeah, like one of those. There's nothing to do but get fixed into a routine. I've never been a routine sort of bloke. They get all sensible and normal. I don't do normal.
Rems is all set into the married life. Reads books to this bloody bird he found beginning of the month. It's like it's his bastard or something. Prongs, it's awful really. He's all ... domestic and there's nothing I can do to fix it. I've tried everything. Even buggering. Nothing works. Next thing I know he'll be in the kitchen making crepes. CREPES! Prongs, we can't let that happen. The kitchen would burn down and the filling would be rotten. Positivly rotten. You'd better get here soon mate. I don't know how long I can hold off the kitcheness. Think of your woman. Think of my dog.
Just get here.
Your ever better half,
Black