The Silver Vixen has loaded up the panniers on her broomstick and swept into Worthing to join with her coven for their Christmas Party.
Gorse Fox is not privvy to the intended goings-on but imagines a huge bubbling cauldron of noxious liquid (they will claim to be tea), cakes decorated in strange patterns, biscuits being snaffled by black cats, and a good natured exchange of gossip and spells. Later, when enough tea has been drunk, he expects they will get rowdy and gathering fistfuls of mistletoe sweep towards the town centre, hovering over the shoppers' car park looking for likely victims. Traffic cones will be replaced by black hats, and a plague of newts with white sticks will shuffle along the seafront.
[File under: Diary]
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