There comes a point in the final book where each House has the choice whether or not to rise to a certain challenge. In many, many ways, Hufflepuff is my favorite House. This may surprise people, but it is the truth. On the available evidence, I suspect that it is Lord Ashcroft's idea of being a mug. This, if you like, is my notion of patriotism. I cannot help feeling, therefore, that it would have been contemptible to scarper for the West Indies at the first sniff of a seven-figure royalty cheque. When my life hit rock bottom, that safety net, threadbare though it had become under John Major's government, was there to break the fall. A second reason, however, was that I am indebted to the British welfare state the very one that Mr Cameron would like to replace with charity handouts. The main one was that I wanted my children to grow up where I grew up, to have proper roots in a culture as old and magnificent as Britain's to be citizens, with everything that implies, of a real country, not free-floating ex-pats, living in the limbo of some tax haven and associating only with the children of similarly greedy tax exiles. I chose to remain a domiciled taxpayer for a couple of reasons. You're a few short steps away from some guy hiding behind a cartoon frog. If your immediate response to a woman who displeases you is to call her a synonym for her vulva, or compare her to a prostitute, then drop the pretense and own it: you're not a liberal. I don't care whether we're talking about Theresa May or Nicola Sturgeon or Kate Hoey or Yvette Cooper or Hillary Clinton: femaleness is not a design flaw. If you want to know how much fouler it gets if you also happen to be black or gay, ask Diane Abbott or Ruth Davidson. Every woman I know who has dared express an opinion publically has endured this kind of abuse at least once, rooted in an apparent determination to humiliate or intimidate her on the basis that she is female. We're too ugly to rape, or we need raping, or we need raping and killing. Liberal Cool Guy, you ally yourself, wittingly or not, with the men who send women violent pornographic images and rape threats, who try by every means possible to intimidate women out of politics and public spaces, both real and digital. I'm sick of 'liberal' men whose mask slips every time a woman displeases them, who reach immediately for crude and humiliating words associated with femaleness, act like old-school misogynists and then preen themselves as though they've been brave. If you can't disagree with a woman without reaching for all those filthy old insults, screw you and your politics. Just unfollowed a man whom I thought was smart and funny, because he called Theresa May a whore. Several publishers turned down the manuscript before Bloomsbury agreed to purchase it in 1996. During the 1995-1996 time-frame, while hoping to get the manuscript for "Harry Potter & The Philosopher's Stone" published, Rowling worked as a French teacher in Edinburgh. One of these agents that she picked at random based on the fact that she liked his name, Christopher Little, was immediately captivated by the manuscript and signed her on as his client within three days. She sent the manuscript to two agents and one publisher, looking up likely prospects in the library. Her sudden penury made her realize that it was "back-against-the-wall time" and she decided to finish her "Harry Potter" book. She went to live in Edinburgh to be near her sister, Di. In the meantime, she went to teach in Portugal, married a Portuguese television journalist, had her daughter, Jessica, divorced her husband and returned to Britain when Jessica was just three months old. One day, stuck on a delayed train for four hours between Manchester and London, she dreamed up a boy called "Harry Potter". After leaving Exeter University, where she read French and Classics, she started work as a teacher but daydreamed about becoming a writer.
Rowling admits to having been a bit of a daydreamer as a child and began writing stories at the age of six. In 1974, the Rowling family moved yet again, this time to Tutshill, near the Welsh border-town of Chepstow in the Forest of Dean and across the Severn River from the greater Bristol area. During the family's residence in Winterbourne, Jo and Di Rowling were friends with neighborhood children, Ian and Vikki Potter. In 1971, Peter Rowling moved his family to the nearby village of Winterbourne (still in the Bristol vicinity). Her sister Diana is about 2 years younger than Joanne. They met on a train as it left King's Cross Station in London. Her mother, Anne, was half-French and half-Scottish. Her father Peter Rowling was an engineer for Rolls Royce in Bristol at this time. Joanne Rowling was born in Yate, near Bristol, a few miles south of a town called Dursley ("Harry Potter"'s Muggle-family).
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