From the timings to the costumes, the festival’s protocol puzzles me. We need a nationwide consensus
Every year I’m puzzled by the protocol of Halloween. For a two-week period near the end of October, I find myself asking “Is it now?”. I mean, yes, the calendar says 31 October, but on which night adults dress up, or the kids dress up, or when either group is coming to my house, is anyone’s guess.
Last Saturday, I saw a woman walking the streets dressed as the chef from Ratatouille with a tiny rat on her shoulder. Top marks. Loved it. It was also a snappy reminder that I needed to buy something to throw, underarm, into children’s pillowcases. I went out and bought a pre-apocalypse-sized bag of Haribo, thinking some kids, yet to get type 2 diabetes, would, that night, be screaming “TRICK OR TREAT???!!!!” way too close to my face. Unfortunately, the scariest thing that happened was I worked my way through the entire bag without so much as a buzz on the doorbell. But good for my dentist, who will be able to get that bathroom renovation he has been so desperate for.
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