I want to read some new Wimseyfic. Why is the world not responding by dropping Wimseyfic into my lap? Come to that, when I want to write something, why does it not spring Athena-like from my brow? It seems that the inspiration that ought to come from having a table again is being swallowed by also having a telephone. And the inevitable tendency of a table to get covered in Stuff. I need more cupboards and a house-elf.
Also, in the absence of Wimseyfic can anyone rec any good Snape/Lily? If that isn't a contradiction in terms.
And, being completly random, and because I must finish the Hilary/Bunter so that I can get back to the Wimsey/Potterverse crossover, have a snippet of the latter:
Wimsey strolled briskly down the gravel drive to the Hogwarts gates. Walking up after lunch, the damp air had carried a faint warmth and whiff of spring, but Highland nights were cold. He shoved his hands in his overcoat pockets – he had toyed with purchasing a set of robes before deciding that he was really too old for dressing-up games – and let himself out through the wicket gate onto the Hogsmeade road. He had taken a small house on the far side of the village, not as convenient as it might be for the school, but far more so for everything else and with a slate roof. Wimsey did not claim to know a great deal about Scottish vernacular architecture, but he felt certain there was a good reason that it did not normally include thatch. He recalled that the highly selective guide to the magical world for Muggle parents he had read on the train had described one of the Hogwarts founders as originating in the Fen country. If the moss-covered and probably rat-infested roofs around him were the fault of Salazar Slytherin, Wimsey could quite understand why he was not fondly remembered.