This morning, I got up and went to be at The Big Shops at 09:01, to count from ten and pop the party popper and have store attendants blow catch-a-bubbles on me while I stood in a line. And it was naff-but-fun, which was exactly what I was expecting. And this afternoon, about five-ish, I was finished a Harry Potter for the first time for the last time. And it totally wasn't worth the hype, but the hype was fun and hilarious while it lasted.
As for the book itself, I'm not too sure, other than Woot-woot-Neville-yay and err... if that's going to be your epilogue, why even bother? and Teddy-squee and the fact that not one of the deaths in the book was given the respect it deserved. (Paragraph designed to contain few spoilers but also, unfortunately, completely lacking in any kind of sense to those who haven't read the book.) It's a bit of a pity that Jo Rowling stopped writing books after about number four or five and started writing movie treatments. But still, I laughed out loud and sobbed and gasped and read with a hand over my mouth and was properly grumpy when people tried to distract me for no good reason. (I was not grumpy at Grandma, who had a good reason.)
And, really, by the seventh book a series will probably be flagging.
The Last Battle, anyone?
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