I haven’t quite lost the concept of time and still do my laundry on weekends so I know the two days I can open the blinds and front door to allow the sunshine in without risk of door-to-door salespeople pissing me off. I completely forgot about Halloween until I saw pairs of tiny feet scampering along the path and the dogs going gangbusters at the mini-invasion of kids wearing bedsheets behind the screen door. Busted!
The kids shouted, “Trick or treat!” and I asked if they’d like two barking dogs. Sarcasm was lost on their innocent minds. Their mother gave me a knowing look. I ran to the pantry and hoped optimistically that the middle shelf was stocked with lollies, even though I haven’t bought lollies children might like for perhaps a year. I found Dutch liquorice, strong organic molasses liquorice, stale marshmallows and a bag of Darrell Lea chocolate-coated honeycomb.
The kids went to such an effort to look like princesses and ghouls that I popped the bag of honeycomb in their pumpkin-shaped lolly bucket. Their mum gave me a smile and I hoped like hell they didn’t tell the other kids doing the rounds that I had a stash of good sugar because the stuff I was prepared to part with was running low.
The second group that knocked looked equally cute and I bolted back to the magic pantry for divine re-supplementation. I hit desperation and dipped my hand into the emergency paper bag of Haigh’s chocolates in the hope something that wasn’t Haigh’s filled my hand. All I could find was a block of Lindt milk chocolate and with great reluctance I sent that off with the kids, together with the stern instruction that THEY WERE TO SHARE. I saw them run to the footpath and show the chocolate to their mother/guardian witch figure, and she waved it in her hand like it was the Melbourne Cup. I don’t think the kids will get a chance to share.
I was running low on chocolate, I had PMT and there was no way on earth any tricked-up warlock was going to take the Haigh’s from my hormones. I closed the blinds, shut the front door and hugged my freckles and vanilla fudge bars close to my chest. Sorry, kids, I’ll chuck a reminder in my diary for next October.
Crank-o-meter: craving chocolate