Mummy, Scare Us!

It’s that time of year when we have the Hallowe’en freak out.

Adam’s line is: “I refuse to celebrate something that made up by Americans.”  (er, that’s Christmas out then, surely)

But whether it’s stupid, evil capitalist crap or not, the fact is the kids now get more excited about the 31st of October than the 25th December. Not just ours. Our mates’ kids decorated their entire house two weeks ago with spider webs and spooky lanterns. We did trick or treating last year and it was fun, apart from the scary gangster crack head hoodie who tried to run our group of pre-schoolers off the pavement shouting: F***ING HALLOWE’EN! We visited a coven of lesbian witches (I only know they were lesbians because one of the 8-year-old heads on the two headed ghost knew them and told us the whole set up), some pre-warned friends, and a couple of houses where people were either out or hiding, then went back home, because it was genuinely dangerous. Which is how it should be on Hallowe’en I suppose.

I quite like the idea of doing Mexican Day of the Dead instead, because they really go to town with their costumes and carnivals, and there is clearly drink and drugs involved, as well as some freaky deep stuff about genuine dead people. No Mickey Mouse costumes and Pre-ordering Sexual Offenders Lists the way the American’s play it.

But there is something retro-shoddy about the way we Brits do Hallowe’en that makes me fond too; the saggy pumpkins and cheap costumes and frightened old ladies.

Usually we just gate crash other people’s trick or treat gangs at the last minute, but that’s not going to work this year. It’s half term so everyone is either away, or has organised something several months ago in another hood.

What am I going to do? Have our own tragic little party of four – Adam not playing, watching Match of the Day, me dressed as a witch getting maudlin and grumpy on red wine, the kids creating their own nightmare on a sugar high?

My friend’s mother was quite inventive. Her kids were bothering her one Hallows Eve, with their constant: ‘Mummy, mummy, scare us, scare us!’ After the 47th: ‘Go away, I’m trying to watch Shoestring!’ Mummy snapped and said: ‘Right, get your coats and get in the car.’ Then she drove them all to a graveyard, told them to get out and drove away. Naturally, they shat themselves. Knowing her, she probably gave them a good hour to make sure they’d never said the words, ‘Mummy, scare us!’ ever again.

Come to think of it, they’re all a bit strange. Maybe I should start thinking more along the lines of Scar Your Children For Life Eve. Or Create A Phobia Night!
I’m sure as hell not baking spider shaped cookies.