Wednesday, June 3, 2009
8:15 am

An owl arrived from Figaro Sellaphix that morning at  breakfast, the familiar stationary that his mum kept at the desk at home.  As soon as he saw who it was from, he snapped it up and jumped up from his seat.

"Yea, yea! I'll be right back!" he said in response to his housemate's queries of why he was abandoning his eggy bread to read a letter from his mother.  He was opening it even as he walked away to a quiet place in the Great Hall.

He knew exactly what the letter was about - the Egypt trip.  All his mates were going, and many of them had already got their permission slips back in from their parents.  Figaro's road hadn't been nearly so easy; he'd exchanged quite a few owls now with his mother, trying to convince her to let him go on the trip.

Figaro unfurled the folded letter and to his clear disappointment, no permission slip was included. Just the hand-written letter.  "...the hell...?"

Figaro,

It's not only about money, I've told you.  You have responsibilities at home and until I know your marks are up, there's no way you're going on tour.  We all need to make sacrifices and it's time you carried some of that weight.  You'll have plenty of fun over holiday here in London.  I don't want another owl about this.

Frank says hello and is looking forward to seeing you back home in June.  Be well, study hard!

Love,

Mum

Figaro finished reading and then tipped over against the wall under a giant boar gargoyle.  He wiped a hand over his face and read over the letter again. 

This was the end-all, be-all of life-ruining bullshit.  Literally every single other person he knew got to go to Egypt for summer tour, and he was going to be counting beetle eyes and mopping armadillo bile like a chump. 

Bloody hell!