Penelope Clearwater

Today  - despite the weather - I woke up and after a while managed to fake a smile with a smile on my face.


I think its the start of something new.

So.

This is Hogwarts.


Its changed a lot since I was 17.

All the talk of Hogwarts in these things (and really, Hogwarts? What has been going on there?  A FIRE! Is everyone safe and is there anything I can do? ) has got me thinking about my time there and the lifetime I lived afterwards and what happened.

I want to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry about what happened and the words I said and most of all, I wanted to apologise for the owl I sent. The last one. I should never have blamed you.

I don't know where you are - or even if you are but these journals seem a good place to start. I'm safe and well, and hope you are too.

There's something incredibly satisfying about the start of a new journal ; the way the paper crinkles gently under eager fingertips and the subtle scent of printer ink on the binding. Perhaps its the fact that a new book offer the possibilities of a fresh start - of turning over a new leaf.

Hrm, I should make a note of that and see where the origin of that phrase comes from.

Where was I ? Oh yes, the scent of fresh ink and of a future I can't quite grasp yet. Amazing isn't it? All this from a little book Madam Hanratty handed to me in exchange for a special arrangement.  Its been years since I've written in a journal, and I certainly don't plan on bearing my soul for all and sundry to see. Some things should be kept personal.

So here is my first entry - the first page is covered with my rather cramped handwriting (too many close encounters with a pair of secateurs) and this journal is claimed as my own. Were it not overly morose, I'd quote something along the line of 'the page has been claimed and marked'. But there is being wise and then there's sounding like a pretentious twit.

And a very fine line lies in between.

Let's start with a simple question ; what can you see when you look out of the window?

I can see the laundry line of one of my neighbours and know that they've mixed the red socks with their white robes again . Your turn.