Hallowe’en isn’t something i bother with in the real world – it irritates me, particularly since i’ve seen it change so much from the ‘good old days’ when i was a child and we’d sit around the kitchen table, carving swedes – we couldn’t afford pumpkins – and frighten ourselves half to death telling spooky stories in the glow of the candle light. To this day, there are few things i find as evocative as the smell of burnt swede! (To all my American readers currently scratching their heads and wondering what on earth those nice Swedish people did to deserve the horrors inflicted upon them by me and my chums, i should probably point out that swedes are what you call rutabaga… does it make sense now?)
Today, it’s all about wearing plastic devil costumes bought from the supermarket and tramping round the district demanding sweets with menaces. It really has changed a lot in the UK.
Usually, come 31st October, you’ll find me behind closed doors, studiously ignoring the barrage of flower, eggs and bloodied limbs thudding against the window – it’s not for me, and i’ve never really been that way inclined.
However, for some freaky reason, in the past few years i’ve managed to cajole myself into cobbling together a Hallowe’en themed experience, and this year is no exception. You’re welcome to come along and pay a visit any time over the next two weeks, although i wouldn’t recommend you come alone!
Your leaves fade to brown
And I watch you die
In my torture garden
Under black sunshine
My Ruin – My Beautiful Flower