The nights are drawing in early, the leaves are crisp, there’s a chill in the air and a distinct rise in door to door begging and minor vandalism…
My name’s Anna and I’m a Halloween Grinch!
There, I’ve said it.
As far as I can recall, I’ve never really done Halloween.
I have a fuzzy memory of trick or treating in Germany – we lived there, we didn’t just travel all that way for the amazing chocolate – and then watching a particularly scary episode of Metal Mickey but that’s it.
Though I have been to a few fancy dress parties as an adult, I was never the sort who went clubbing so you wouldn’t find me at 42nd Street* on All Hallow’s Eve dressed as a ‘sexy zombie nurse’ or some such other contradiction.
I don’t know where this Grinchiness comes from.
Maybe it WAS that episode of Metal Mickey.
Maybe living on an estate where most kids knocking on the door in the dark, adorned in a bin liner chanting ‘trick or treat’ actually translated to
“Give us a quid or we’ll kick your head in”
makes me cautious.
Maybe its because I’m a child of the 80s.
I was bought up in the era of the public service adverts telling me not to play on train tracks, not to climb pylons, not to go and see puppies and most definitely NOT to take sweets from strangers.
Yet, here we are, once a year telling our children that strangers aren’t a threat just this once.
Knock on doors, make a mild threat and accept sweets from those unknown to us.
They have a pumpkin THEY MUST BE OK.
As you can see, my cynicism of the whole event runs deep.
As a fatty who freezes at the sound of the doorbell ringing unexpectedly, it is more than an annoyance when people arrive unannounced and THEN expect me to share my sweets!
Not on your Nellie tiny ghoul!
I assumed that as Rory and I aren’t fussed about this faux ‘celebration’ our children wouldn’t be either.
It seems I was quite wrong, unfortunately.
Aoife is a marketing dream and, since she was 4, has made me dress her as a witch ready for ‘all the trick or treaters’ to come.
She gets giddy once the pumpkins hit the shops and revels in the orange and black tat that hits the shelves.
Now, as an adult of 40 years old, I’m starting to find myself wondering whether I should actually enable this desire she has. I will paint her face green once again and get a bowl of sweets at the ready – reluctantly.
Maybe we COULD carve a pumpkin together? It wouldn’t HAVE to go outside the front door.
Maybe some spooky lights WOULD look cute.
A Halloween wreath might look nice on the door and Halloween crackers, well…..
Balls to that.
Fairy lights, door wreaths and crackers?!
I see what you’ve done here Halloween, I’m on to you!
We will just wait the extra 55 days until Christmas thanks.
THAT’S a celebration I can get on board with.
*a notoriously rank nightclub in my home town in the North East.
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