(A seasonal re-blog, folks. Enjoy!)
It was Hallowe’en and Carrie’s children were hyper-excited. Tiger-Lily was in
charge of her siblings. She had dressed as a witch and her brother, Ferdy, was
carrying a plastic trident and sported horns.
Ming had a black plastic cape and his smile was rather disconcerting as he
had managed to retain plastic fangs from a Christmas cracker in his mouth,
in spite of the additional dental obstruction of a brace. The whole effect
was akin to Frankenweenie.
Bill was a white-faced zombie with fake blood dripping down his jaw.
Edward’s facewas green and he had a screw sticking out of his neck.
Rollo was a Ghostbuster.
All carried pumpkin lanterns and empty, be-ribboned mini-trugs, for the
reception of donated goodies.
Now be polite, children, and only visit the houses on High Street. Ring the
doorbells once only and say thank you if anyone gives you fruit. You
mustn’t accept money…
Edward looked disappointed.
I’ll wait round the corner in The Peal O’ Bells with the other mummies.
Stay together and when you’ve finished, knock on the window.
Let’s go to Grandma’s first, said Ferdy. She won’t be scared of us.
Yes, let’s get it over with, said Tiger.
They rang the doorbell and stepped back politely.
Suddenly a white-sheeted figure with two black holes for eyes
opened the door and shouted: Boo!
Little Edward was terrified. He seized his sister’s hand and dropped
It’s only Grandma, silly, said Tiger, annoyed at the naughty nonagenarian.
Trick or treat, Grandma?
Ginevra pulled the sheet off and smoothed her hair.
We’re not having that American nonsense here, she lectured. When your
daddy was small he had to do guising properly. We’re a traditional family.
So, who’s going to do the first turn?
Turn? quailed Rollo.
Yes. A recitation, dance or song. You don’t get owt for nowt as they
used to say.
What’s a recitation? asked Ming.
Come in. I’ll show you, said Ginevra enthusiastically. Ola! Have you put
the apples in the basin of water?
But Ola wasn’t there. She had run off to Bric-a-Brac with Jean-Paul,
the widower from the twinning visit. Ginevra had forgotten the new
Sorry. Magda, then.
They all trooped into the sitting room and Ginevra moved her case of
Dewlap Gin for Discerning Grandmothers off the sofa, so that they could
She took a deep, somewhat juniper-scented breath and launched
Of man’s first disobedience and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
Brought Death into the world and all our woe…
Sing, Heavenly Muse!…
Two hours later Tiger had to shake Edward awake as her
grandmother uttered the final words:
…through Eden took their solitary way.
Ginevra bowed with a huge flourish and pronounced:
Paradise Lost: now that’s poetry!
She then proceeded to help herself to a bag of Mars bars which
Magda had been instructed to purchase for the children.
Grandma, we’ve got to go. It’s past Edward’s bed-time, said Tiger-Lily
Oh, what a pity. We didn’t get round to ducking for apples, said Ginevra,
There’s always next year, replied Tiger, scarcely banishing a rather un-
grand-daughterly thought: If the old bag is still around.
Carrie was frantic: Where have you been all this time?
Blame Grandma, said Tiger. Give her any opportunity or a platform and
you’ll be there all night.
You should have taken the crucifix and the garlic, like I told you, said
Carrie, bundling them into the 4×4. She’s always been a monster.
Even to Daddy? asked an exhausted Ming.
Especially to Daddy. Never mind. We’ll have good fun at Clammie
and Tristram’s Guy Fawkes Party. Burning effigies is so therapeutic!