Dot writes: we’ve just taken the boys out trick-or-treating; which is to say, we dressed Hugh as a knight (he was delighted) and Frank as a little toddling tiger (he was less delighted, but he looked extremely cute), and I insisted that Andrew squash me into my corset, which is very beautiful and deserves an outing now and then, even though it made me look less like a witch than a retired goth (which I am, I suppose), and we did the round of the doorbells in our development. Halloween is another time when we deeply appreciate the design of the place where we live: the boys collected enough chocolate to fuel hysterical heel-drumming meltdowns from now until Christmas while never being less than twenty yards from the road. No tricks were required though I was carrying a large fake spider just in case. Hugh never quite managed to say “trick or treat”, but he said thankyou for the chocolate. I was very proud of him.
Halloween was not a big part of my childhood. This is really the first time I’ve done anything much about it. I must confess, it was Ken who actually did the work, from buying the costumes (no miracles of the seamstress’s art from me, I’m afraid) to carving the pumpkin – with a smiley face, at Hugh’s request. I’ve tended to be suspicious of the occasion as chiefly a marketing ploy and an excuse for childish greed. And certainly we rendered loot this evening to some rather lazily-disguised teenagers, one of whom was actually collecting treats in an enormous Lidl bag. But our neighbours did seem pleased to see the boys in their appealing outfits; and the jack’o’lanterns looked spooky and dramatic – our next-door-neighbour has a particularly creative display of them; and we enjoyed handing out sweets, especially to the younger children for whom the dark and the dressing-up were so much more novel and thrilling; and Hugh liked his costume. In fact he liked it so much he was very upset when it had to come off. “You took my knight trousers,” he sobbed. He has been promised he can wear them again tomorrow. He is in bed now and we have to work out how to manage all the chocolate so that we don’t have that series of sugar-induced ghastly scenes mentioned earlier. If only there were some way of just getting rid of most of it quite quickly – but, you know, without waste. Gosh, what could we do with it? 🙂
In other news, this afternoon after swimming Hugh got a raisin stuck up his nose. Not once, but twice. One shouldn’t laugh, but we did.