What a pity today wasn’t yesterday, as although it was colder it was wonderfully sunny, with blue skies and wispy clouds.
I came home and we’d just settled down to watch the local news before doing something to eat when the doorbell rang. Two young lads and a little boy were outside, carrying bags and dressed in black with false teeth. They’d come to see whether I’d made any of the pumpkin cakes that I’d made last year for Halloween! I said that they were a bit early but that I’d have some on Wednesday, and I will have because I’m making some tomorrow night for R to take in to work and then I’ll have a batch ready for when the trick or treaters come calling.
I know that not everyone approves, and to be honest I don’t, either. But the ones that come to us have (usually) gone to so much effort, and usually their Mum or Dad is halfway down the drive making sure that they’re OK, so we go along with the spirit of the thing. I know that it’s not the same at all, but the first year that my brother and I ever went Carol singing – he was 6 and I was 7, I think – we went to the house of a neighbour that we knew quite well and started to sing. She opened the door, said “No thank you” and slammed it in our faces.
We promptly burst into tears with shock, and then Mum appeared out of the shadows, rang the doorbell and the neighbour opened the door again – and recognised us, and Mum explained. She was all apologies then, but I never forgot how that slammed door felt. We could never be persuaded to go out Carol singing again, well at least not until we were grown up and I went with a group from work as an arranged Thing.
So, however much I don’t like youngsters trick or treating, I always tell them how scary they are or how good their disguise is or how pretty their wings are (some come as fairies) and then offer them a pumpkin cake.