It's that Time of Year...*

Continued (sort of) from In Space, No-one Can Hear You Peep

 Ms Scarlet sighed for what felt like the fiftieth time, peeled back the cuff of her mitten and looked at her watch.  Again.  He was now even more late.
 "Hmmmm..." she said, then having given the sky another once over, Ms Scarlet turned on her Wellington booted heel and went back indoors.  Sidney followed her with an expectant look on his face.  The look soon faded when his mistress disappeared into the bathroom rather than the kitchen - there weren't any treats in there.
 After an almost dainty grunt followed by what sounded like dozens of spoonfuls of trifle being scooped out of a bowl in quick succession, Ms Scarlet came out brandishing the octopus sucker bath mat.  Sid's ears drooped.  Definitely not a treat.
 "Some birthday this is turning out to be.  I shall have to find my own way to Lake Como now, Sidney" she said, laying the bath mat down on the carpet.  "I hope this thing works."

 Gathering up her bag, a few bottles (some of which were filled with suspicious-looking objects), her travel calligraphy set, Sid's bag, a half-eaten box of After Eights and an unopened box of Ferrero Rocher, some self-indulgent reading material (last year's birthday present), and a vintage Pot Noodle, Ms Scarlet stepped onto the bath mat then sat down, cross-legged.  Her arms were more frustrated than cross and, had they been able to, would have huffed in exasperation at having to keep all the paraphernalia together.   

 "Come on, Sidney."  She gestured for Sid to join her on the mat.  The little dog cocked his head to one side and tucked his tail between his legs, but otherwise didn't move.  "Come on!"  With a small whine (not even half a glass), Sid slunk onto the bath mat and jumped into his mistress's lap.  "Good boy!"  Sid made a half-hearted attempt at wagging his tail.
 With only the slightest of wobbles, the bath mat rose into the air, about three feet off the ground, and slowly drifted to the back door**.
 "Charmaine?!  I'm just off!"  Ms Scarlet yelled as she fumbled with the Mogwash Air Traffic Control app on her phone.
 "Huh" was the monosyllabic response from the attic.
 "I'm taking Sidney!"
 "OK."
 "I've left a cauldron of gruel on the stove!"
 "Fine."
 "I'll lock the door behind me!"
 "Oh, just go!" Charmaine screamed.
 Resolving to have words with Charmaine once she returned from her getaway at George Clooney's LẌ's lakeside retreat - and to withhold at least one portion of gruel per day for at least a week, longer if she remembered - Ms Scarlet locked the door as the magic bath mat hovered next to it, then she instructed it to ascend gracefully into the heavens, imagining her scarf fluttering elegantly in her wake.  Reality, however, had other ideas.  
 After clipping*** her big, pink bush, the bath mat struck turbulence almost immediately, lurching this way and that, causing Ms Scarlet to grip the edge for dear life with one mittened hand, while she endeavoured to keep all her luggage on board with the other.  In her lap, Sid jumped up and down barking incessantly.  Then, just as she remembered that she hadn't set the TV box to record the repeats of 321 (with Ted Rogers and Dusty Bin) while she was away, a gust of wind blew her scarf across her face, obscuring her vision...

To be continued...  

* Post title, Pot Noodle, and Sidney by Ms Scarlet.
** Because witches don't tend to use the front door unless they can possibly help it.
*** No pun intended.