Greta Catchlove

London is riveting and lively, but I can't wait to go home.

Private to Sturgis:
Speaking of which, I will be home tomorrow evening. Hope you're hungry.

Private to Alastor:
I am going "home" tomorrow evening. Thought you would like to know and would be relieved by the news! So, no more worrying and getting more of those wrinkles and gray hairs.

A general announcement to all those interested: I (Gerta Curd, for those unfamiliar with my scrawl) will be stationed inside Flourish & Blott's this Saturday with my last book and a quill in hand for all those who want a signature. My books will also be selling at a discounted price of 15%, thanks to my publishing company who can afford the revenue cut. Also, you will have the opportunity to sample several of my recipes, including old favourites and some new ones that will be included in my next book.

So if the weather is anything but the typical London weather, come on by Diagon Alley. If not, then it will be rescheduled to the following Saturday.

Someone recently had the audacity to call me old! They either don't know me or are truly interested in sitting on a whisk. Whatever their reason, they're going to learn that I can run around just as capably as those who are twice my age! And going into London the next few weeks will prove just that because you can't step about London all slow-like. Otherwise, you will get ran over.

( Private to Alastor Moody )

( Private to Sturgis Podmore )

Being disturbed by owls incessantly tapping at my window on a Sunday morning is not how I planned to start my day. My lawyer (who is responsibly for one of the owls) knows better and has been frequently reminded over the years, but yet, he continues sending them at the butt-crack of dawn anyway. The other was from a Ministry Employee, asking for an order of strawberry and blueberry muffins by tomorrow morning. Generally, I would answer them in the positive, but they are requesting 150 muffins. I'm talented, yes, but not quite that talented. Therefore, the muffins will arrive on Tuesday, at the earliest.

( Private to the Free Order of the Phoenix )

What an interesting and unexpected evening.

Private to the Order of the Phoenix:
Tonight was definitely exciting. Is everyone alright? Hopefully no one but those lily-livered Death Eaters go hurt in the explosions.

Private to Alastor Moody:
Colour me impressed at your cooking skills. Everything turned out delicious and I concede.

Private to Cho Chang:

Miss. Chang,
Not only is it easier contacting you through our respective journals, but it will save the poor owls involved such lengthy flights. Besides, compiling all the information into one place will make our correspondence more effective and easier to refer to. With that being said, how may I be of assistance to you?

Sincerely,
Gerta Curd.

Part of the reason as to why I am temporarily living in Scotland was so some people didn't know where to find me. Can't a woman get a bit of peace around here and be left alone when she chooses to be? I'd like some peace and quiet as opposed to the incessant pecking against the kitchen window!

I suppose I should at least let the bird in. That would be the polite thing to do, wouldn't it? I may even fatten it up and make a hearty stew out of it. Then again, owl stew isn't exactly tasty, so maybe I'll fatten it up with the apple pie that just came out of the oven. If I time it correctly, it will need to go to the bathroom by the time it gets back to the company. That will teach them.

Private to the Order:
Any requests from you lot?

Private to Alastor:
Is there anything I can do or help with?

There is nothing better than the smell of fresh cookies baking in the oven. Just waiting for them to finish and cool is making my stomach growl, like a hungry bear, from the anticipation.

Private to the Order of the Phoenix:
If I knew where you lot currently were, I would send each of you a healthy batch. After all, everyone can use a bit of a pick-me-up from time-to-time.

( Never tempt a woman wielding a spatula. )

Private to the Free and Loyal Order
Whoever thought it was possible to be this sore from simply flying on a wretched broom? I have muscles pulled in places you youngins wouldn't even want to hear about. And yet I can't figure out how I possibly pulled them just sitting on a piece of wood. To all you seasoned Quidditch players: is this natural or am I just getting old? Or is it from my hip, perhaps?

I need to find that cream Alastor uses whenever his muscles cramp up.

Slow-roast lamb with chickpea mash or Roast Pork Belly.

Private to Self
I am beginning to feel disenchanted again, though I am unsure as to why it is happening. Perhaps it's because I feel utterly useless and unattached to many of those currently within England. That's a fault of mine, of course, since I've chosen to remain silent for the last month; however, getting too emotionally attached can be detramental. It makes the others rash and impulsive - two things that do not help for very obvious reasons - and I'm far too old to be acting in such manners.

Perhaps I should just stick to the distractions. And the cooking since that seems like my supposed job. It's a damn good thing I enjoy it.

[Private to the Free Order]
As many of you know, there will be a Quidditch match very, very soon (since I'm getting on in years, the date escapes me for the moment). In addition to playing, you lot will also get to take part in another competition. Our fearless leader has decided to be brave and challenge yours truly to a cooking competition.

Brave or incredibly silly?

Who knows. that's for you to decide. Alastor will be cooking up some Ribs on the Barbecue and I will be making one of my new recipes: London Broil with Cherry-Balsamic Sauce.

At this cook-off, you will each be supplied a voting ballot and Moody and I need someone trustworthy (who will not stuff the ballot box, Mr. Weasleys-plural) to keep tally.


[Private to Katie]
When you have several minutes free, I need to speak with you about something important.

[Written with a Dictaquill]

Pastas...
Meats...
Another dessert...
Breakfast dishes...

Retirement sounds good, too. But one more shall do. Maybe two. Then that will bring the total to seven books total. Seven is a respectable number and will be right up there with Lockhart's collection.


( Cut for Length )

Private to Order Leaders:
An idea crossed my mind this morning while making breakfast and consequently working. Whenever you decide to start infiltrating London, I do have contacts at Flourish & Blotts and could potentially plan a distraction. Of course, I really don't know how many Death Eaters would be interested in seeing little ole me, but at least it will keep many civilians out of the way.

Or perhaps it can be arranged so that the "Slaves" can at least be in attendance. Just an idea. Chew it as you like and take it as you will.

( Greta's Books for Reference's Sake. 5 Books Total. )

How would those of you out there like to hear a funny story?

Once upon a time, there was a small little skirmish going on outside a house made of bricks. Everyone was fighting. Explosions of fireworks were going off, illuminating the sky with crackles and kabooms. Spells were flying, hexes were landing, people were shouting, and one redhead managed to fall off a roof. Then there were two lovely ladies fighting off two evil, slobbery toads. One toad was really quite ugly and unpleasantly plump while the other was salivating at the mouth from starvation.

The two lovely ladies swept in on them, but were distracted by the unpleasantly plump toad throwing bricks their way. Left and right and down and up they flew much to the ladies' chagrin. Until finally, the older of the two got the plump one to stop.

Their victory wasn't gained yet. The younger lady was chased after by the salivating toad and the older one was threatened to be squashed by the unpleasantly plump one. The younger lady was scratched, but the older lady had the plump one surrounded! She threw fire and then water, burning and then bathing the stinky toad. She should have won, but the unpleasant fiend tripped her and cast a nasty spell on her.

But, as with all fairy tales, good prevailed. The younger witch blasted the salivating toad across the yard! BANG POW! He crashed right into the unpleasantly plump witch, knocking her so hard into the ground a crater should have formed! The ladies managed to get away just as the two evil, slobbery toads heard the sound of retreat and ran away with their metaphorical tails tucked between their legs.

The End!

Private to the Bell Ranch Occupants:
Since I'm presently out of commission thanks to a bunch of silly bricks flying and a measly unforgivable, I'm afraid you lot will have to figure out what to do for meals on your own the next couple of days. Also, while I'm laying it up like a dastardly old woman (which I am not, thank you), please feel free to come keep me company.

Oh, and Alastor? I want a nice cup of tea, two sugars, and eggs over easy for breakfast. Is that low fat enough for you? Be sure to borrow my apron so you don't mess up your clothes.

I'm at the age where I can make comparisons, so, compared to a decade ago, this country has really gone to pot. The level of tyranny and stupidity that runs the wizarding world is astounding. Really. Monkeys could do a more effective job at running things and keeping them fair. Swift and nonexistent trials, falsehoods thrown this way and that, and the deprivation and demeaning of witches and wizards? Utter stupidity.

And I'm quite certain that those of you who believe yourselves to still be in control are going to get your little hairs raised and come booing and hissing, and cursing at me left and right. Save your ink, dears. I don't care for your pathetic excuses. I'm sure Snake Boy would stab each and every one of you in the back for putting a toe out of line if it pleased and/or amused him.

Just keep digging that hole and you'll soon find yourselves in China.

( Private to Moody )

Ham & Pineapple Topknots or Kedgeree?

Rainy days and homemade ice cream were meant for one another.

( Private to Oliver, Alicia, and Moody )

( Private to Oliver Wood And Alicia Spinnet )

I have a whole Shepherd's Pie and no one to share it with.

Private to the Order
Perhaps I can tease a number of you into taking several helpings off my hands so that I'm not eating leftovers for the next week and a half? Unless, of course, many of you think so horribly of me that you can't even accept a peace offering.

Though, I also made a pretty big chocolate fudge cake last night too. I guess I'll have to eat it all myself and watch as it pleasantly goes to my thighs and hips.