September 7th - Hair still inclined to be bushy, for want of a better word; dear Hermione appears to feel that blame is all hers, and upon my disagreeing, becomes Tearful and claims that she can do Nothing Right. Feel that this is overstating the case somewhat but when I attempt to say so, she retorts that I don't Care, No-one Cares, and she Hates me; she then retires to Bedroom in great haste, slamming door soundly behind her.
Door transpires, on further investigation, to be firmly locked by both Muggle and Magical means.
Am entirely discomposed by this turn of events, and feel somewhat at a loss, but recall that Albus has suggested I join him and other, select, members of staff, for Tea and Talk this afternoon.
Am by no means keen on this, but reflect that due to current state of affairs re. Hermione, I am less than welcome in my own quarters, so decide I may as well Go.
Do not, however, expect to enjoy it.
(Later) Was entirely correct in attitude toward social occasion; am resolved never, ever, to accept hospitality from Albus again.
Tea And Talk turns out to be impromptu Training Session on the Importance of Communication, Knowing one's Customers, and Creating a Positive Mindset.
(Query - Has Albus been importing Muggle literature again, or has this breed of infantile psychobabble infiltrated the Magical world?)
(Answer - is equally terrifying either way)
Am immediately suspicious when Albus introduces himself as our Facilitator, and stop listening altogether when he exhorts us to Upskill our Colleagues. Am intrigued, however, by concept that 82% of communication comes from Body Language.
(Query - How did they work that out to such a degree of exactness?)
(Answer - remains unknown, but am tortured by mental image of unfortunate subject having every muscle spasm analysed, no matter how minute. Resolve to work harder on Sneer in - probably vain - hope that message it conveys may be entirely unmistakeable.)
Return to quarters to find that dear Hermione has transformed our spacious, and extremely comfortable, bed into two small cots of unimaginable lumpiness.
(Memo -Ways of Women are undoubtedly most Mysterious.)
Decide that now is, perhaps, not the best time to educate her in finer points of Communication Skills, and retire to lumpy cot in discreet silence.