On the day the final Harry Potter novel was released, I, like a true Slytherin, scandalously jumped the queue. It was just before midnight when I committed the crime. There was an enormous queue snaking its way down the pavement from the closed doors of the Chiswick branch of Waterstones. It slithered past restaurants, bakeries, banks, and stationery shops. The wait would’ve been at least an hour had I not turned to Younger Boyfriend, as he was then, looked him in the eye and cunningly intoned, “I have a plan”.

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