Haribo, Halloween and holding on for fireworks . . .

I have a confession to make . . .

I've got little time for Halloween. 

In truth, I never have had. Yet each October, as this Haribo-sponsored spook-fest becomes even more invasive, the aversion that I have to it grows just a little bit stronger.

Listen, I don't mind telling The B&G ghost stories. I've helped them to carve pumpkin lanterns and I even bought them a Halloween-themed biscuit from our local baker (The G chose a classic iced spectre, The B an amusing cream-filled monster).

But dragging them door-to-door, demanding sweets? Dressing them in Freddie Krueger costumes? Draping fake spiderwebs all over the house?
Call me a killjoy, but it's just not us.

Yesterday, in the supermarket, I noticed that there is an aisle - an entire aisle - devoted to Halloween and all its associated wares.
These are, in the main, sugar-based and sold in huge drum-shaped containers; this is, in itself, a rather haunting sight.

The B&G have done all their Halloween activities - her at nursery, him at school - so this evening I shall be lighting our pumpkins, closing the curtains and ignoring the doorbell. 

Roll on Bonfire Night . . .