We don’t do Halloween. However, our no-longer-quite-so-small friends and their friends have a tradition of dressing up and visiting a few familiar places in the village and of ending up by knocking on our door.
I have a few spooky-cute bits and pieces which usually make an appearance around 5pm and are put away again shortly after we’ve said goodnight and waved them goodbye down the drive.
I usually put a few bits together including something to do (this year, these fortune tellers) and since they’ve usually gone to some considerable trouble with the dressing up, we made a kind of photo booth under the stairs as well.
With a few apples bobbing in a bucket of water and a towel alongside, we were all set when the knock came on the door. In they all tumbled, excited, shy and giggly at the same time whilst Mums and Dads stood back and enjoyed the fun. Photos were taken and a few apples were bobbed when someone noticed,
“hang on, they’re not with us!”
Three small boys had tagged along in their ghostly get ups and helped themselves to a bit of rice krispy stuff, a gingerbread person or two and a bag of sweets before disappearing into the darkness. We had no idea who they were or where they’d come from!
At least they said thank you
