Miss Agatha’s eyes  popped and she almost choked on her toast as she scanned the letter which arrived in the post that Tuesday morning . “Good grief,” she thought as she allowed the sheet of paper to fall to the floor, she felt as though it would singe her hands and she couldn’t bear to hold it any longer. It was the most unwelcome application for Coven membership, “To think its come to this, is nothing sacred any longer?” Agatha thought to herself. The Witches of Dysart Coven had endured for over two hundred and fifty years as the ultimate women’s only group in the area and now was under threat from the most unexpected source. 

            Agatha  heard rumours alright that the Warlock John from the next parish was transitioning, but who on earth would expect him/her to apply for membership of the Coven? Why whenever she had met him at Craft Council meetings where Warlocks and Witches came together to discuss policy issues he/she always struck her as very misogynistic. Why he/she was transitioning was a mystery to her, but who on earth had got him/her to apply to her Coven for membership? She knew this would cause trouble, as some of the newer members had what she regarded as very strange notions regarding gender ideology and would probably support this application. Myrtle for example (See “Newcomers”).

       Agatha got up from the table, leaving the letter of application where it fell on the floor and got ready for her aqua-aerobics class, determined to put the matter out of her mind for the present.  She quite enjoyed her time at the pool until it came time to get dressed afterwards, that is. Being an ample bosomed woman she found the struggle of getting into her bra in the changing room was almost like another workout. That morning was no different, and after her lovely relaxing swim she broke out in a sweat while she struggled under the towel to get dressed, the humidity of the changing making it impossible to get fully dry. It brought to mind all the challenges of the menopause years, especially the night sweats. And this  brought John/Joan back to mind, “Heavens, I’ll bet when that Warlock talks about ‘how he always felt like a Witch,’ he/she  never experienced those particular challenges!”  And then she thought how she would hate to share this particular space with him/her!  She had to do something to head this particular peril off at the pass.

      Agatha gathered her gear and left the Health Club, she took a detour on her way home to visit her old friend Miss Heather and told her the story. 

 “Well that does put us in an awkward position alright,” said Heather “the only thing I can think of is to make a list of all the things that you know John would hate and make those tasks a requirement for membership of the Coven.”

   “Easier said than done,” said Agatha “firstly I don’t actually know what he would hate to do and then I would have to get these conditions passed by the whole Coven.”

    “Getting things passed by the Coven should be simple enough, after all we have been getting our way at these meetings for years, and as for finding things he would hate to do, put your thinking hat on, there must be lots of things, after all there is more to being a Witch than wearing lipstick and using the right pronouns!”

     “Huh,” said Agatha “we’ll see!”

But as she flew back to her little house she did start to think, what about riding sidesaddle  on a  broom or indeed using it for  something other than flying, sweeping the kitchen came to mind, and speaking of household chores what about  ironing, darning and baking? “Hm, maybe this isn’t so hopeless after all” she thought.

       By the time the next Coven meeting came around, Agatha had her list prepared. And when “applications for membership” came up, she cleared her throat and started:

      “We have a rather  unusual application here, ladies. The transitioning warlock /witch John/Joan has applied for membership and our constitution gives no clear guidance on such matters.” As she looked around the table, she could see half the members looking horrified and the rest just seemed confused, all except Myrtle, that is! “Ha, I might have guessed,” thought Agatha.

       “What wonderful news, an opportunity to show our commitment to diversity and inclusion, let’s  roll out the red carpet and welcome they,” Myrtle said.

      “Well given that we have such a cohesive and like minded group here in Dysart,  I thought we should set a list of skills that need to be performed to a given standard before we can approve membership,” said Agatha.

      “Such as?”

       “Simple enough things, hosting the community coffee morning and cleaning up afterwards, refereeing and training the under 4’s hurling, simple repairs to cloaks and hats, that sort of thing.”

      “But we didn’t have to undergo such tests, putting this in place now would  be discrimination,” said Myrtle.

      “My plan would be to hold a refresher day for us all and invite Warlock John/Witch Joan to join us, say next Sunday?” Said Agatha.

       The plan was passed by the majority of the Coven. It wasn’t unanimous, needless to say, Myrtle voted against.

       Warlock John/Witch Joan accepted the challenge and the Coven assembled on Sunday morning in the local GAA grounds where the under 4’s were scheduled for training, and they took their turn teaching hurling skills to the little ones, this was followed by hosting the party afterwards for both parents and children in the clubhouse where every participant got a medal, as usual. Following the cleanup they took the senior teams shirts for an invisible mending session, as they had been seriously damaged at that encounter with Camross the previous week. 

      With a heavy heart Agatha noticed that John/Joan simply outshone every witch present at these activities and as she contemplated the likelihood of his/her being co-opted into the Coven at their next meeting she mentally prepared her letter of resignation as Coven Chair. A jerk on her arm woke her from her reverie, it was Myrtle.

     “That Warlock is no more a Witch than those little children we were coaching this morning. Why HE mansplained every single step of every single project to me all day. HE even insisted on showing me a better way to make caramel for my caramel squares at the party! If HE is co-opted into the Coven I’m leaving!”

      Agatha and Heather’s eyes met over the neat pile of repaired hurling club shirts and Heather smiled as Agatha mouthed “thank you”and then she put away her darning needle and thought “Now to compose the letter of rejection to that application”.

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