The day has arrived!

There's less than an hour until Harry Potter #7 is released. I'm reporting to you live from the place I'm to pick it up from. I'm sipping an extra large coffee and feeling slightly giddy because I am here sans husband and children. They opted out at the last minute; begging off due to the cold weather, but I have a slight suspicion there may be more reasons as to their reluctance. You see, I am dressed up as Hermione Granger. I've struck a sort of middle ground: wizard-like loyalty proven with a less daggy appearance. But my costume is rather haphazard: my university robes have again come in use; last time I wore them was in my final week of pregnancy with Riley and literally nothing else fit. Made from a woolen blend, they're surprisingly warm and might be enough to ward off draughts of wind coming underneath the cafe's door and looks of suspicion and - dare I say it? - derision from my fellow breakfasting peers. It might have begun when I swept in, replete with my brown wig: which, as there is no real patented 'Hermione Granger-brown crimped locks' (yet), I've had to go with a Jon Bon Jovi mullet circa 1987. It's not a bad alternative actually, and the waitress may have been struck by my visible similarity to my magical friend. She was certainly dumbfounded. But that may have had to do more with my following sentence. "Hello!" I said, adopting Hermione's customary haughty tone. "A macchiato if you please." The waitress stared. To get my point across, I withdrew my wand - sticky-taped toilet rolls together, with stripes alongside, thanks to Keira's help - and said. "What? Are you accursed by a Stupefy spell?" "No, no. A machiatto coming up." "No, you don't pronounce it a match-ee-ah-to! It's mach, as in mac-truck--- mach-ee-ah-to." "Sorry," she mumbled. "No problem." Despite my doing what I thought was best - edifying my fellow humans on the importance of proper pronunciation - I soon discovered my help was not wanted. Fellow customers have turned their backs to me. So I'm sitting here typing, waiting, for the time to tick down. And since I have been, more people have been filling up the place; and, thankfully, another woman has come in in a positively Muggle-ean inspired creation of a spotty purple cape, and pointed witches cap with black spots. Velveteen everything else. Egghhhh. I think I win points for authenticity. I win, I win! Half an hour to go. I best go do some work now. *Like Harry Potter, much of this post was fiction. I'll let you try to figure out which part(s) that was.