1 November, 2012. Venue: Bournemouth. I thought everything was going well. Despite their natural apprehension, the troupe has been performing spectacularly well so much so that the Hallowe'en acts prompted a visit from one of our forefathers, Mr Harvey Burfoot. The veil between life and death is, after all, thinnest at Samhain. It was a heady evening! My guard down, I accidentally mentioned my plan, explaining how it would give Burfoot's Circus security and space to develop our skills. The idea was not completely ...
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1 November, 2012. Venue: Bournemouth. I thought everything was going well. Despite their natural apprehension, the troupe has been performing spectacularly well so much so that the Hallowe'en acts prompted a visit from one of our forefathers, Mr Harvey Burfoot. The veil between life and death is, after all, thinnest at Samhain. It was a heady evening! My guard down, I accidentally mentioned my plan, explaining how it would give Burfoot's Circus security and space to develop our skills. The idea was not completely disregarded, so I have high hopes. While I still have not discovered who is borrowing The History and presumably reading it, I'm certain I soon will. Also, the townies accused us of stealing their wallets. I've no idea if this is true. There was an unpleasant scene as we packed up to leave for Blandford Forum, diffused thanks to my taking charge, with help from Bridget's spells and The Boy's natural charm. I'm not sure what happened after that but one of the performers has left us. She packed in the night and has apparently gone back to the Real World, knowing what the penalty is for desertion. Harvey, if you're reading this, please don't hurt her. /ends
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