i will be honest.
i don't care for halloween.
no, that's not true.
i don't like halloween.
at all,
or very much at all anyway.
it's just not my cup of tea.
when i grew up in the concrete jungle of tyneside we didn't really go in for it in a big way.
we usually got a turnip, yes a TURNIP for gawdsake, and we carved it out (try doing that with underdeveloped muscles and skinny little wrists) and gave it a scary face and stuck a candle inside with a bit of string thru the lid.
then we walked about the street in the dark for an hour or two, in the freezing cold, relighting the candle every five minutes while the wind whipped thru the privet hedges and blew it out again, rendering us scared sh*tless cos the streets were dark and dingy.
AND
have YOU ever tried carving out a turnip?
pumpkins?
you don't know you're born.
pumpkins are for sissies.
you need the strength of a navvy and a blade with a sturdy handle that's been sharpened to within an inch of its life to carve a turnip.
there was absolutely no pleasure in the whole charade.
a complete farce.
we didn't knock on doors and say 'trick or treat' either.
a good kick up the backside and a solid slam would have been the answer to that request.
i'm not bitter.
(!)
not all childhood memories should be warm and fuzzy right?
i remember when i first came to canada with my two boys and we were looking for turnips to carve for their first halloween here.
thank goodness they came home from school in time to put us right on that score.
we'd have been the laughing stock of the neighbourhood and my children would have been traumatized and shunned for ever.
my oldest was already coming home from school asking why the other kids were calling him 'limey' 'teapot' or 'mangiacake'
children can be so caring.
these days i contemplate hiding in the house with the lights out when neighbourhood darlings come knocking to show off their fancy duds.
well see, THAT'S not even true.
because they don't even CARE if you see their costumes.
they just shove a pillow case in your face and scream TRICK or TREAT before they simultaneously grab and turn their noses up at the candy on offer.
they're off down the driveway and on to the next victim before i am finished saying,
'hello sonny, and who are you supposed to be?'
"SPONGE BOB DRACULA' they yell over their shoulders as they stomp off down the path giving the secret signal to the next kids on their way to the door which means;
"candy's crap, don't waste your time."
i think it's a finger into the left palm or something, i'm just never quite quick enough to catch them.
and where, i hear you ask, is your other half while you are answering the door and freezing your buns off and simultaneously being abused by snot nosed children?
why he's downstairs in front of the tv isn't he?
cosy and warm and watching sports.
in front of his gas fireplace.
in his nice leather reclining chair with the footrest.
and if i should happen to take five in the ladies' room he kindly shouts up the stairs;
"DOOR! DOOR!"
just in case i miss one of 'em.
he's all heart like that.
and i'm up there missing coronation street.
on MY tv.
and you know what?
i'm not doing it this year.
i'm not even buying candy.
i'm not even leaving the porch light on.
i'm going to turn off all of the inside lights and tiptoe around the house.
see if i care.
bah humbug.
trick or treat?
TRICK
that's what!
