I promised for there to be no more flurries of exclamation marks, so there won't be.

Twenty minutes and then Harry Potter The Very Last comes out. I feel bad being excited. I tend to stay away from hype. I guess chair dancing and stalking JK Rowling via her website is a very mild form of excitement in comparison to camping outside Waterstones for three nights. Now that is silly. And dangerous. Especially in this weather. I saw a photo earlier of a girl sitting inside a plastic shell thing, brandishing a torch in the one hand, and Harry Potter the Penultimate in the other. I saw no breathing holes in the plastic shell. And there was rain.

So I am not queuing up. I will, however, be at Morrisons not long after 8am. My aim is to read it before anyone has the chance to ruin the ending for me. Having to work tomorrow ruins this a bit, unless my customers are very understanding about me having my head in the book whilst serving them. My hope is that the town will be dead, because the vast majority of the Newcastle-under-Lyme population will be ensconsed in their homes. Reading.

I wonder how it feels to be the author of a series of books causing environmental concerns with regards to excessive paper usage.