September 22nd - Awake to the sound of dear Hermione declaring that The Frogs are back, and am somewhat startled - possibly a Nightmare about yesterday's events at Potter's house? - until she adds that It's all gone Woggly, and I realise that she is, in fact, still sound Asleep.
Attempt to wake her is met with declaration, in no uncertain terms, that That is the Last Time you get a Green Map out of me, Mate; at which I decide it is probably best to let her sleep on. Spend remainder of time in bed reflecting that, disturbing as her sleep-talking can be at times, it is infinitely preferable to Snoring - which has disturbed my rest on many occasions and, more than once, led me to fear for her life as she appears to stop Breathing altogether.
Abandon reflection and decide to Get Up - which decision is met with assertion that The Helicopters are on the Duvet in the Corner - and go for early breakfast.
This proves to be less than satisfactory as I am forced to sit with Albus, who informs me that
A) My Classroom is to be refitted today (Why? Is more than satisfactory for use by idiot students.)
B) He is planning an Olde Tyme Christmas Fayre, at which
C) I will be providing Refreshments
On my questioning the last point, he merely smiles, twinkles, and claims that There's no-one who can brew a Cuppa like You.
Am utterly lost for words at this characterisation of my many Qualifications in the field of Potions-Making, although am forced to admit that I can make an excellent cup of Tea when required to do so. But do not desire this skill to be generally known.
Proceed to first class of day but have barely begun Lecture on Properties of Gillyweed, when assortment of burly men in ill-fitting trousers wander in and begin to make remarks such as Where do you want us, Guv?, and Cor, about time you had a refit here, Innit?
Direct them towards back of Classroom and request Class to gather round Blackboard for continuation of Lecture; but this proves Impossible due to level of noise produced by Workmen - or Workman, since only one of them is doing any Work, while the rest of them stand around, sucking their teeth and drinking Tea (At least they did not ask me to brew it for them.) - and cancel all Classes for rest of Day, setting current class three-feet of Homework on Furniture-Modifying Potions.
Return to quarters with not-unpleasant prospect of Free Day before me, but recall that prestigious Potions Conference is fast approaching - this weekend, I realise, which causes brief moment of Panic - and resolve to spend day in polishing Speech.
Am, therefore, utterly horrified to realise, when it is Lunchtime, that all I have done is to lay out writing equipment in immaculate order, and sharpen several pencils.
Return from Lunch - which is more than usually excellent - and tell myself sternly that Speech Must be Finished This Afternoon.
Wake up at tea-time to discover that have produced really rather excellent sketch of View from bedroom window, extensive Shopping List for French Potions shops, and excruciating Crick in neck from unfortunate sleeping position.
Day not complete Waste of Time, though, as had no Classes to teach, and dear Hermione proves most enthusiastic about continuing Family-Making discussions.