In a bizarre turn-up for the books, it’s raining again. I’ve never been particularly bothered by the lack of summery weather before, but there’s something so depressing about the almost inevitable fact that everything this summer is going to get rained out and ruined.
I’m still finding it difficult to feel sorry for the people apparently queuing outside Eason’s bookshop since this morning in order to get their hands on the new Harry Potter book when it comes out at MinutePastMidnightO’Clock. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve succumbed to the hype and pre-ordered my copy, and I’ll be rolling up at midnight or so after a couple of gin and tonics to claim it, no doubt. But WHY, if they’ve already pre-ordered, are they sitting in the murky, wet Friday, asides from providing fodder for ridicule for bystanders and bloggers alike?
Braz mentioned pure sheep-ness as the reason earlier; that they saw on TV that people in London were already queuing from the middle of last year, or whenever, and decided that they had to queue as well. But I think that the feeling of community and the banter that the group excitement engenders is a major factor in the dreary summer holidays. When you’ve nothing else to do, why not stand around getting damp and abused?
And my theory as to how it’s all going to end? My guess (not having read any spoilers) is that Harry and Voldemort will be locked in a titanic struggle of wills, and Harry will use some puny last-ditch trick to distract the obviously superior Voldemort, who will then be defeated and begin to vanish while screaming “I’m melting, I’m melting!”. The unexpected side-effect is that all of Harry’s powers will disappear, as they were only a symptom of the fact that Voldemort was living in Harry’s brain. And the upshot of the whole thing is that Harry, like your typical child star, will be catapulted into the kind of obscurity that gets you funny looks and “is that the fellow that used to be…” murmurs. The effect this will have on his adolescent ego, coupled with the death of probably everyone except Neville and Luna (who will marry young and have tremendously ugly and oddly talented babies) will drive poor Harry to drink and drugs and he will end up in the Priory (charitably paid for by Draco Malfoy, who was a nice guy after all) being deflowered by Paris Hilton in exchange for a line of coke.