Some things are worth waiting for.......

I ring Ben, he's on page 25 and I've not even got a copy in my mitts.


Two years of anticipation ended at 12.13 in Sainsburys. Naturally I'd rung ahead, got HP6 as it's known to the fanatics, (Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince for those who've missed out on the mania), on hold.

I skip to the park, I'm reading a bit en route, but it slows me down, so I'm forced to abstain until I find myself a sun drenched patch of grass close to the water. Far enough away from the kids to risk being mugged or disturbed.

Five hours later, I remember food. Unprecedented, to forget for so long.

It's orgasmic. It reminds me why I want to write. She's not a fancy pants author, there's no mamoreal and cacophony in her text, just beautiful sentences that take you to the heart of the characters, midst of the plot, that make me laugh out loud.

A sample of my favourites so far

'And now Harry, let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure'.

'Well that can't be right' she said, annoyed, and Harry heard her shuffling vigorously as she set off again, leaving nothing but a whiff of cooking sherry behind her.

Ms Rowling, I salute you. You've brightened my life on six separate occasions.

The knowledge that this is the sixth of seven weights heavy. I savour it, re-read bits, take my time, aware that there's only one further set of HP phone calls to exchange with Ben post the half blood dissections.

Then can't hold back, take it with me to dinner, to read on the tube en route and en route home. I'm glad when Hannah's late as I'm in the middle of a thrilling bit. I remember the five previous occasions I've been similarly gripped, compare notes. It's by far the best, rivals the first time, and we all know, the first time of anything super, is hard to recreate.