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Algernon Augustus Quintin Rookwood
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| Feburary 14th 1981. |
[15 Jul 2003|02:51pm] |
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mood |
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 aggravated |
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[Private]
Blasted Crouch woman. Why did I ever engage myself with that Wilhelmina. More importantly, how could I - a man with 3 years experience as an Auror and 10 years as an Unspeakable out in the field - allow myself to be caught by Isabel bloody Crouch?! She is not the ideal woman to be blackmailed by - your average blackmailer requests money, goods or services but not Isabel, oh no, she has taken it upon herself to try and find me another wife.
Thankfully I have managed to put her off until after Valentine's day but the German minister is apparently dining at the Crouch household in the not-too-distant future and I cannot take the risk of him finding out about his wife and I and starting an international incident. So, Mafalda Hopkirk. Never heard of the woman but then I do spend much of my time in a virtual basement and try to avoid contact with the other departments - the Ministry has, after all, become a warzone in itself lately. Apparently she's the deputy head of the Improper Use of Magic Office so she will no doubt be a hairy-legged, bra-burning feminist. Vile. Women should not be put in positions of power, their moods are too wild for any great responsibility. I'm afraid I shall be forced to make an attempt at fixing the coffee machine, if only to get Mrs Crouch off my back as I believe MacNair to be growing restless with me. He wishes me, nay our Lord wishes me, to grow... close, as it were, to that Ariadne Londonderry girl. It would certainly be advantageous to have connections that close to the Minister and there is no denying that she is quite a looker - a braindead looker also, which makes it even better, she's exactly as a woman should be.
As if all this isn't stressful enough I know also have to dig into that Peasgood bloke.
There are only so many hours in a soddin' day!
[/Private]
Croaker! Sort your bloody act out! One more farce that results in your losing your wand and not finding a replacement seconds afterwards and I'll have you pushing paper for the rest of your career.
Notice: Room 7 on our floor is more off limits than usual. Someone seems to have left the door open and something else seems to have got in there and spilt time something so if you go near the door there is a danger of you ageing about 50 years in as many seconds something happening.
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| January 20th 1981 |
[20 Jun 2003|10:40pm] |
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mood |
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 annoyed |
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Danced with some woman in slutty robes. Drank some shit masquerading as champagne. The end.
I don't know why I bother with these things, I really don't. That was really all I did, well that and answer a barrage of questions regarding the death of Jovan, the departure of Olivia and where I purchased my tie.
The press were thankfully notable only in their absence; I believe I would have screamed had I been forced to field questions on the new policies on Aurors using Unforgivable curses or, even worse, whether I thought that ridiculously loud and obnoxious Bagman's team stood a good chance this year. I don't give a damn about Quidditch, I don't have time to give a damn about Quidditch and if you want to know about Aurors may I suggest you talk to one of them? I run the infinitely superior Department of Mysteries, we have been using the Unforgivables for several years now and, quite frankly, I don't feel that giving the Aurors this extra freedom, as it were, will make any difference to the war effort. Let's face it, the DoMLE is for show only - they do nothing that the DoM cannot do ten, if not a hundred, times better and faster.
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| January 15th 1981. |
[15 Jun 2003|11:00pm] |
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mood |
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annoyed |
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music |
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Wagner - Parsifal, prelude |
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I am, of course, saddened to hear of the passing of one of the greatest ha! Unspeakables that ever was: Jovan Juliana. He died for the cause.
But life must go on.
Threw Olivia out last night. The woman really deserved it; out of all the wives she has been the worst, most definitely.
So now I am back to the single life. If not officially just yet, at least in theory. It does make a change after almost 7 years to finally be able to play my music at a volume that befits it's grandeur without her asking who it is. Who it is?! Yes, I could scarcely believe it myself when I learnt I had wed a female who had never heard of Wagner, Strauss, Beethoven, even! But I was prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt until last night.
What can I say? She's a woman and they have many faults.
Speaking of women; it would appear that the coffee girl has taken somewhat of a dislike to me. I would prefer it if her groundless animosity did not interfere with the highly important work I do and she just stuck to what she was good at - making sandwiches and double booking the Minister. Thank you.
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| January 15th 1981. |
[15 Jun 2003|09:55pm] |
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mood |
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 calm |
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Olivia left last night. I had been expecting this for quite a while but never did I dream she would be the one to take the initiative and leave of her own accord as opposed to being thrown out by myself.
It would have been our 7th wedding anniversary in May.
In some ways it is a pity, as she lasted longer than any of her predecessors. In other, more aggravating, anger-inducing ways it is a relief - the woman was having an affair. Oh it is only to be expected, she is a female therefore she is weak but really, with one of my own underlings staff? Has she no shame?
I shall remain perfectly stoic to his passing. An early death is one of the perks of being an Unspeakable and none shall find it suspicious as none know what I know about his involvement with my wife... or should that be ex-wife?
It is times like these I am thankful for my dual life; for my contacts as head of this department and for my contacts in the Death Eaters. Makes revenge murders so much easier to carry out.
Olivia has gone back to her mother, I believe. She is distraught but she, unfourtunately, shall survive.
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