Fatale Abstraction

OK, I'm on to the third of the witchy segment of Discworld. I loved the first but was over-the-moon with the second, Wyrd Sisters, and I fancied myself the Granny Weatherwax sort until I read this passage.

Granny wasn't at home in public houses. She sat stiffly to attention behind her port-and-lemon, as if it were a shield against the lures of the world.

Nanny Ogg, on the other hand, was enthusiastically downing her third drink, and, Granny thought sourly, was well along that path which would probably end up with her usual dancing on the table, showing her petticoats and singing "The Hedgehog Can Never Be Buggered at All."

So, there's a wee bit of Nanny Ogg in me, too, since I sing that song all the time.
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Speaking of things witchy-poo-esque - I'm in lurve again-- aren't these shoes the very most darling things evah? I knew you'd agree. *sigh* Santa-me may have to break down and buy them for myself. I'll grant you they are a trifle unconventional, but then again, so am I. Plus I've been perfecting my cackle.