It was my wife's birthday today so we got to go out and have some fun, which culminated in us heading to Watford to visit
the Making of Harry Potter. My wife is a big fan of the Potter films and books. I am less so, but if love is about anything other than proving itself in the arena of snooker (and I am not sure it is) then it is about selflessness.
The public fascination for Harry Potter shows no signs of abating and even though I booked these tickets weeks ago, the only available space for the tour was at the latest possible time of 6.30pm. Thousands of people a day are paying the pretty high admission price and making the journey to Watford Junction to see the sets and props from the films.
My wife has written a children's book too, (It's called "My Best Friend and Other Enemies" - could you please
buy it and help pay for our kitchen) and I wondered if in 15 years time there might be a gigantic attraction on the outskirts of some town dedicated to her characters. I hoped so. J K Rowling isn't exactly short of cash as it is, but this must be helping to keep the gas meter topped up for her. It's like a money magnet designed to take every last piece of currency from the pockets of parents with the opportunity to supplement the pretty hefty ticket price with expensive souvenirs and photos and even some disgusting tasting butter beer. Our friends had been before and told us that the butter beer was disgusting, but we still had to try it. And even though I've told you not to try it, you'll try it too. Because you'll want to find out how horrible it is. And you'll want to say you've drunk some.
But you know, when you're having a day out that's a bit of a treat and it involves something that you love then you're actually willing and happy to pay over the odds. You want to spend cash. You don't even really resent it. This is an amazing position to be in if you're the one counting the receipts at the end of the day.
And I have to say even as a non-fan I was impressed by the scale and detail of the attraction. You get to walk through the sets, see the costumes and props and there's lots of interactive stuff too. You can take a ride in a flying car or on a broomstick and get photos of you doing so (though weirdly not the video, even though you are being filmed flying around over various landmarks). Everyone was wide-eyed and over excited (though that might have just been the sugar rush from the butter beer). My wife loved it.
As we left we saw that at the door were the handprints of the three young stars of the film. With my notoriously tiny hands I wanted to see how I matched up against these tiny millionaires. And it turned out that my hand fitted pretty much exactly into the handprints of Emma Watson. I have Emma Watson's hands. We are hand twins. This has all kind of terrible implications for the world. I once talked of using my small hands to sit behind a curtain and provide relief to unwitting paedophiles, but now perhaps I can open a slightly more respectable establishment where I provide relief to people want to be wanked off from behind a curtain by Emma Watson. It won't be her doing it, but it will be someone with her exact hands and thus be exactly the same sensation. I am going to open a massive studio tour for it on the outskirts of Luton. The shop will be full of casts of my hand which you can take away and use as you will, all at £89.99 a throw.
That kitchen isn't going to pay for itself.
