The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square house of Privet Drive.
The villagers of Little Hangleton still called it “the Riddle House,” even though it had been many years since the Riddle family had lived there.
Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways.
Not for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at number four, Privet Drive.
At the 1956 National Rowing Championships in Syracuse, New York, a three-year-old girl sat impatiently beside her mother, waiting for her dad to row by.
When he emerges from the bathroom she is awake, propped up against the pillows and flicking through the travel brochures that were besides his bed.
Competence can be a curse.
Ove is fity-nine.
We’ve been sitting for an hour or more here, up high, in the airport’s main food hall, which overlooks the duty-free, clothes, electronics, accessories, and souvenir stores below.