I don’t remember what we used to do on Halloween when I was a kid growing up in the 60s and 70s but I dare say I enjoyed it to some extent. Now, as an adult and a parent, I can, at best, take it or leave it.
Trick or Treat, however, is a whole different ball game.
For the last 15 years or so I have loathed the 31st October. For a number of years on this date I have, like a whole bunch of people I’m sure, sat at home in the dark with the TV off, whilst hordes of kids have banged on the front door ready to issue their demands. As I was obviously not going to say trick and, being a bloke, I had never got round to buying any sweets, I didn’t really have an option.
But this year, while epiphany may be stretching it somewhat, I have experienced a paradigm shift, to use modern business parlance.
My son Evan, 6 next month, has been quivering with anticipation about Halloween for the last couple of weeks and positively apoplectic with excitement since the 29th when I came home to find the lounge decorated like a witch's grotto - pumpkin lights on the front window, a giant spider attached to the ceiling, and a torch shining a ghostly silhouette on the wall.
Halloween fell on a Sunday this year and the whole day was one long build up to 6pm which is when we went out Trick or Treating.
We began, unsurprisingly enough, with our nearest neighbours who, contrary to modern perception, we do know and get on perfectly well with. Heck, we’ve even been round to dinner a couple of times and our cat, Cash, regularly makes himself at home on the divan in their conservatory. They had also been primed for our visit so we were off to a good start.
We moved on up our road, knocking on the doors of the people we knew to say hello to in the street and then on as far as those who we wouldn’t recognise if we were stuck in a lift with. Most were much more sociable than I expected, though a couple of houses remained in darkness with no sign of life inside. To be fair, maybe they were actually out.
Evan was well into his stride now, his pumpkin bucket filling up with all sorts of chews and choccy bars, some packets that I remembered from my own childhood and others I’d not heard of. We both agreed that they all looked pretty yummy and Evan seemed delighted with his haul so far.
We ventured into unknown territory…the street round the corner. We knew no-one on this road, though we had walked up and down many times when Evan was smaller. One of the houses had a porch light that came on automatically when you were within 20 yards of the house. Evan used to love this and I recall many a time having to push his buggy backwards and forwards past the drive just to activate the light.
We picked some houses at random that we thought had potential. On one occasion the door was opened, somewhat tentatively I felt, by a middle-aged guy who peered out. “Trick or Treat” we cried in unison. In my case I was trying to both make the man comfortable and ensure a successful visit. The man smiled shyly.
“Oh, I’m a bachelor, I don’t have anything. Hang on.” He waddled off with a somewhat comical gait. Evan was about to pass comment but I cut him off quickly. After a minute the man waddled back and, looking pleased with himself, handed Evan a pound coin. It was all too obvious that Evan would have been happier with a bag of jelly tots but I made sure he expressed appropriate gratitude.
A little further on we came upon a house with the figure of a soldier for a door knocker. I lifted Evan up and he banged it fiercely. Almost immediately the door was opened by someone who was clearly an old soldier. He had a handlebar moustache and was dressed as if ready for a military function. His eyes twinkled as he pretended to be scared of Evan’s vampire regalia and then handed over a bunch of loose sweets that he’d neatly wrapped in a Halloween napkin.
A little further, by now about 300 or 400 yards from our home, we passed a house which had an array of Halloween decorations and a front door that was wide open. Standing out on their driveway the owners were swigging red wine while a number of vampires, ghouls and ghosts ran around them, in and out of the house, yelling and screaming and trying to scare the willies out of each other. The adults hailed us, beckoning us over, and Evan got a smorgasbord of candies to add to his bucket and I enjoyed a small glass of Pinot Noir.
We’d been out nearly an hour now so it was time to head home. As we strolled back, Evan carefully auditing his haul, I felt something about Trick or Treat that I would never have expected. Not only did I genuinely enjoy myself, which was miraculous in itself, I realised there were a lot of perfectly agreeable people virtually on our doorstep who we’d simply never had cause to meet before. Of all things, Trick or Treating had brought us together, albeit briefly.
I felt heartened that these people existed when there had been so many times in the seven years we’ve lived here we had really not felt connected to the area or to any sense of community, but I also felt sad that I probably wouldn’t see them again, at least not until next Halloween. I wondered if it is socially acceptable to go round the next day and engage them further in conversation, or is that a step too far?
