I love autumn, I love the colours, I love the surprise sunny days, I love the first week after the clocks change and it feels like a lie in every morning. And I love halloween.
Halloween didn’t start so well this year.
- Pumpkins purchased - tick
- Teen has full address for party (with instructions) - tick
- Outfit for teen established - tick
- Treats purchased - tick
- Pumpkins stored in a sensible space so they are still fresh for carving, like the fridge for example - err, about that
Apparently, placing the pumpkins on the windowsill to look all lovely and autumnal for the week leading up to Halloween is not the best idea. This is because the windowsill is directly above a radiator. It would appear that it’s really hard to tell that a pumpkin has started to ‘go over’ as a only small hole appears in the base, the outer pumpkin looks all fine and dandy, all the gunk seeps slowly out, covering the windowsill and dribbles quietly down the back of the radiator. Only to be discovered when you pick up said pumpkin for carving. Delightful (not).
Fortunately one pumpkin was fine, the rotting one - I retrieved half of it, enough for a rough lantern type effect.
Left with time and motivation to be pumpkin creative, I got in touch with my inner Day of the Dead Mexican persona. It’s at times like this, my lino cutting tools come in handy.
Time to collect offspring from work, then get ready for the onslaught of small people demanding sugar based confectionary. Inspired by the transformation of teen into A from the TV show Pretty Little Liars, and my pumpkin, I thought - why stop the inner Mexican inspiration at a mere pumpkin. Using supermarket face paints, I think I did an OK job.
It certainly scared the children who came to call, or it may have been the screaming at the top of our lungs when the doorbell rang "release the hounds of hell" flinging the door open and screaming some more. Stamping really loudly was also a favoured way off getting to the door. Asking which one [child] would be the tastiest went down very well. The responses ranged from "You're scary" to nervous giggling. I heard one child potter off to another group of tricksters and say "go there, that woman's scary." We ran out of treats fairly swiftly.
The dogs went mad every time the doorbell rang, barking like wild beasts, however, as soon as they saw the children, they jumped up and received all the cuddles and admiration. Hounds of Hell? Hardly. Canines of cute more like.
Only one question remains, how does one clean rotting pumpkin liquid stains from behind a radiator?
