Halloween Havoc!

It's no secret that I love Halloween. There's something magical about the musty smell of a box of Halloween decorations and the thrill of carving out pumpkin guts. Usually my father and I will start planning for Halloween in the Spring. There are props to construct, costumes to put together, themes to imagine. It's a big deal. But this year there was to be no party. My brother was working nights and Ellis and Lauren were going to a Halloween disco with their friends from school so, for the first time in more years than I can remember, there would be no spider webs, fake blood or shrieks of terror in the Wellington household on October 31st.

...Or so we thought...

In fact, the school disco was on the 30th, meaning the kids would have no spooky celebrations on Halloween itself, which, in this family, is totally unacceptable. Fast-forward to the afternoon of Halloween, which I spent in a state of utter panic, searching in vain for pumpkins, hyperventilating at the distinct lack of decorations I had to work with, and edging ever closer to the brink of insanity as I was forced to accept there was no time to make creepy cupcakes.

As if trying to plan an ad-hock Halloween celebration in less than 24 hours isn't hard enough, by 12:30pm Asda had already packed away their Halloween aisle and had replaced all the spooky party supplies and trick or treat sweets with Christmas crackers and baubles. I wasn't the only irritated customer loitering at the end of the aisle in disbelief, wondering why they couldn't have waited an extra 24 hours before snatching all the Halloween themed goodies out from under our noses. Luckily Tesco had a fantastic selection of Halloween themed treats, but, in my highly stressed state, I couldn't resist having a little dig at Asda on Twitter. After all, it was totally ridiculous to pack up all the Halloween stock before Halloween was over and what's Twitter for if not to rant to the world?

"I think I did a pretty good job considering time constraints"

Once my slightly passive aggressive moment has passed, I headed home for some manic decorating and an entirely new problem. What on Earth was I going to wear? The Playboy witch costume I had set aside for a grown up Halloween celebration with my friends was not going to cut it for trick-or-treating with small children. I mean, even if I traded in the stockings for tights, there was no hiding the suspenders.

So I was forced to take my own advice as outlined in my last blog post and rummage around the house to find some odds and ends I could make a costume out of. Personally, I think I did a pretty good job considering the time constraints.

And, despite all the frantic rushing around and the last-minute nature of everything, our little get together went really well. Lauren and I went out trick-or-treating (Ellis and his friend, Alex, are apparently too old and cool for that sort of thing now) and it was the perfect night for it. It was unseasonally warm and the air was dry and still. Whereas usually trick-or-treaters are few and far between, this year the streets were full of children rushing from one house to the next. I felt like I was in a scene from Hocus Pocus! And the bonus moment was when my neighbour insisted on giving me £1 because 'I made such a pretty witch'. I don't understand people who don't like Halloween. How can anyone have negative feelings towards a holiday centred on fancy dress and free sweets?! 

When trick-or-treating was over, we settled down to stuff our faces with pizza and chocolates and watch Hocus Pocus. (Side note, someone please remind me I simply have to dress as Sarah Sanderson next Halloween. Sarah Jessica Parker seriously rocks that look!) It was lovely.

After all the last minute stress, our low-key little Halloween get together was perfect. It was just like the Halloween celebrations we used to have when I was little, before we started bringing in bigger props and planning more intricate games. Bobbing apples and a scary story were more than enough to keep everyone happy.

Unfortunately, happiness quickly evaporated and was replaced with shrieks of genuine terror when Lauren caught sight of the decapitated bride's head we had hanging in the bathroom. I hope I won't have to pay for her therapist's fees one day because of that...