A Witches' Coven
It must be a month ago now that houses around us suddenly began to be decked out with arrays of pumpkins, cobwebs and spiders. The most amazing thing was that this decoration took place almost entirely during the hours of darkness, so we would awake on a morning to the sight of yet another house embellished by attempted creepiness. It's all been something of a change to the relatively staid, mundane and unornamented surroundings of October in our home village, all no doubt a reflection on the contrasting demographics of the suburban outskirts where we are temporarily residing and of rural hamlets.
Last week we played host to Grandotty and parents, meaning that our age statistics were more in keeping with the rest of the street. Needless to say Grandotty revelled in constant walks to see the spiders.
"Spider! Quick, quick! Run, run!" became a constant refrain. I swear I've never enjoyed (or perhaps even noticed) the run up to Halloween before. That's the great premium you get from grandchildren, the opportunity to play and pretend that you too are young again.
It can wear off rather quickly though. They left with still five days to go until Halloween itself and my penchant for taunting spiders dissipated with them. So much so that when I returned from a meet up with a friend in Leeds on Thursday, walking through the streets from the station as darkness descended, I was taken aback by the number of witches and other spooky creatures emerging from the shadows, illuminated by a backdrop of candlelit pumpkins. It was only then that I remembered the date.
I must be getting old, because I found myself caught up in a nostalgic age trip reminiscing about the world of turnip lanterns from my own childhood.
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