dry müsli and the order of the phoenix

During my year in England, I spent a considerable amount of time discovering Cornish castles, driving down country lanes and walking on rainy, endless beaches, mending a crushed spirit on the streets of London, and sneaking into every hidden courtyard in Cambridge. Not to mention loving life on the banks of an idyllic river on many a lazy summer afternoon.

But I particularly remember one week when I did none of these things. I spent it reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix in my unmade bed, in a tiny room in a sleepy suburb. Didn't go out, only occasionally and reluctantly rolled out of bed to go work an evening shift in the hotel.  Didn't tidy up my room, do my laundry or even go grocery shopping - only ate dry müsli straight out of the box and, in the evenings, drank cheap white wine out of an unwashed mug.

I finally finished the book, got out of bed, cleaned up myself and my room and bought some milk to go with the müsli. Got on with my life. Looking back, however, it was a strangely poetic week.