Thomas Kinkade Beyond Summer Gate

Thomas Kinkade Beyond Summer GateThomas Kinkade Autumn SnowEdward Hopper The Lighthouse at Two LightsEdward Hopper Tables for LadiesEdward Hopper Sunlight in a Cafeteria
Ridcully the Brown wasn’t the least interested in running anything except maybe a string of hounds. If you couldn’t shoot arrows at it, hunt it or hook it, he couldn’t see much point in it.
Beer at breakfast! The Bursar shuddered. Wizards weren’t at their best before noon, and breakfast in the Great Hall On the lines of:
‘I expect it must be a, mm, a change for you, mm, sleeping in a real bed, instead of under the, mm, stars?’ And: ‘These things, mm, here, are called knives and forks, mm.’ And: ‘This, mm, green stuff on the scrambled egg, mm, would it be parsley, do you think?’ was a quiet, fragile occasion, broken only by coughs, the quiet shuffling of the servants, and the occasional groan. People shouting for kidneys and black pudding and beer were a new phenomenon. The only person not terrified of the ghastly man was old Windle Poons, who was one hundred and thirty years old and deaf and, while an expert on ancient magical writings, needed adequate. notice and a good run-up to deal with the present day. He’d managed to absorb the fact that the new Archchancellor was going to be one of those hedgerow-and-dickie-bird chappies, it would take a week or two for him to grasp the change of events, and in the meantime he made polite and civilized conversation based on what little he could remember about Nature and things.