I Hate Halloween

Sour grapes and soggy Tarzans.

I do. I hate Halloween. I hate scary things. I hate being scared. The scariest film I’ve ever watched is Honey, I Shrunk The Kids. I hate the aesthetic of Halloween, the same old witches and spiders year on year, I hate it all. However, I have fallen for a Canadian and found myself raising a half-Canadian baby. Halloween is now a mitzvah, second only to Christmas. And so, tomorrow night, albeit at the unscary hour of 5pm*, we are going, dare I say it, trick-or-treating. We’ve gathered a gaggle of local toddlers and will toddle slowly from pumpkin to pumpkin, collecting candy they are not yet allowed to eat.

*Turns out the clocks changed last night so 5pm may in fact be menacingly dark. I should probably plug my song Winter at this point: They moved the clocks back with no warning at all / You know that means now we’re in for the long haul. It has a very short seasonal window but has been keeping people warm from late October to early November for over a decade. I’m thinking of rewriting the opening lines: I put the heating on for the first time this year / I guess that means winter is really near But turned it back off ‘cause my gas bill I fear…

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Winter by Lail Arad:

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I swear Halloween didn’t exist in London when I was growing up. I only really became aware of it when it was an excuse for fancy-dress house parties i.e. awkward teen attempts at sexy. Sadly we seem to be catching up with our jack-o’-lantern cousins across the pond. I use cousins as a catch-all phrase, though I do actually have American cousins, and their toddlers sport enviable costumes each year. To their credit (my cousins, or perhaps Americans in general), they seem unburdened by any eerie obligations. Last I heard they were arguing over who would be George and who would be Ringo. So yes, ok, I admit, if spooky isn’t compulsory the idea of dressing our little Canadian in a cute little costume is a little appealing…

He actually had a (particularly) big fall recently (the perils of toddling) and if this were last week we’d have only had to draw whiskers on either side of his very red nose. Thankfully the scab has now fallen off so the kitty-potential has passed. Instead, thanks to some spectacularly green hand-me-downs from aforementioned American cousins and a coincidentally yet perfectly matching tuque (that’s Canadian for beanie), our baby will make his Halloween debut as a… grape/pea/frog/insert your suitably green suggestions here. He’ll be so cute all the ghosts and ghouls will be be green with envy. I may share photographic evidence next Sunday.

Reluctant Dalmation and her mother. 1991?

Thanks for your messages on the little excerpt I shared last week! I wasn’t going to introduce any other characters just yet, but couldn’t resist this swinging costume-party scene…

They were in a queue of samurais and mermaids. It was mid-August and pouring with rain. Smith was wearing her long blue Mackintosh, zipped right up, hood on. Pearl was dressed in what could have been taken as a Summer of Love costume by anyone who wasn’t familiar with her everyday wardrobe. She was holding a white photographer's umbrella to keep dry. A two-legged pirate jumped out at them, shaking his plastic hook menacingly. Arrrgh! Shiver me Timbers! It was unclear whether he was trying to flirt or skip the queue. Either way he scurried off before Smith could roll her eyes.

-God help me Pearl, I'm out on a Friday night. There's a Friday night grin smeared across everyone's face.
-Don't be so judgemental.
-Their pre-ordained moment to let go has descended upon them and they've paid good money so they better have a fucking good time.
-Not everyone's a self-employed slacker who can't tell the difference between a Tuesday and a Saturday.

For once Pearl had called the shots: they were going out. Smith had been so taken aback that Pearl would choose to socialise with her outside of office hours that she momentarily lost her better judgement. She knew it was a mistake as soon as she heard herself agreeing to the outing. She didn't do fancy dress and couldn't believe she was queuing in the rain for the pleasure.

-Remind me why we have to be here?
-We’re having a girls night out.
-For what reason?
-Just think of it as research Smith, and loosen up.
-It's not my demographic. It's irrelevant on top of idiotic.
-Who knows, maybe you’ll even meet someone...
-Morons aren’t my type.

After fifteen minutes they finally reached the front of the line, where they were frisked by a highly unamused tank of a woman who searched every pocket of Smith's blue raincoat. I'm dressed as a Leonard Cohen song, get it? She didn't. Are you dressed as a bouncer? Pearl pulled Smith away before she was refused entry, probably her plan. The building was an old derelict theatre, trying hard to hang on to its former glory despite the peeling paint and crumbling cornices. They approached the golden window frame of the box office. A shivering boy in swimming trunks and armbands stared at them through his goggles, probably waiting for their booking reference. He removed his snorkel to speak.

-Did you buy online? Otherwise it's Ten. Fifteen if you're not in fancy dress.
-We're on Jack's guest list.
-Oh right.
-He's playing in the band that's playing right now.
-Your friend still could have made an effort.

Smith glared at him from under her hood as he branded her wrist in black ink.

-Are you meant to be Paddington Bear?
-Is this meant to be fun?
-It’s fun if you dress up. I’m wearing flippers, you can’t see them down here.
-Good to know. Now you can go dive in the shallow end.

The main space was already heaving at the uncool hour of 9.30pm. The theatre seats had been gutted out, only the gentle slope of the stalls remained, slowly pulling everyone towards the stage. An electro-swing band was huddled together centre-stage, giving it their all. Pearl's some-time lover Jack was on upright bass. He appeared to have grown a misjudged goatee and topped it off with an ill-advised flat cap.

-Aw look at Jack, he seems to be really enjoying it!
-Yeah, who knew his ideal crowd would consist of soggy Tarzans and Teletubbies.
-Next time Smith, you can dress up as The Grouch and hide in a trash can.

A yellow Care Bear bounded up to them, helping herself to a group hug. She smelt of the perpetual damp in Victorian ground floor flats. Smith held her breath until she waved them goodbye.

-I'm telling myself that it's good to come to these things once a year, remember I'm not missing out.
-Jeez Smith, it's Friday night, get a drink and lighten up.
-The only thing worse than this would be a Halloween Special.