Did I scare you? Did I? Eh, eh?
It's been a spooky old day. A trip to the usually sophisticated Northcote Road was strewn with ghoulish beings. A delicate blond wallflower of a girl walked towards me along in the tunnel at Clapham Junction station with a scythe in one hand, and a bag in the other, out of which spouted two green arms. Later, I passed a group of well set rugby player types, all wearing capes, torn shirts (phew!) and some pretty terrifying bloody makeup.
Pumpkins glimmered at me from shop windows and broomsticks leaned in doorways. In one shop, a bowl of chocolate eyeballs winked at me by the till. "Would you like one?" the shop assistant asked. Erm ... no thanks!
And my, how things have changed, since I used to go trick-or-treating wearing my Mum's long black petticoat and a rollneck! Since I've got h0me I've been visited by little witches with plastic heads on sticks, and zombie fairy princesses. I've had a lot of ghouls and ghosts and gremlins at the door wailing a terrible oooooooohhhhhhhhh! as I walk down the hallway. I've even had a visit from Batman, who's mother was convinced, after a lot of persuasion, to stick around for a G&T ...
I've seen Mums and Dads who've made every bit as much effort with their makeup and hats, standing dutifully back, and refusing the sweets on offer with a rueful shake of the head. The children come equipped with a bucket to collect their treats - a fabulous range of disembodies heads and spider covered baskets are held out for sweet treats.
But one thing out spooks the lot. One thing has made the rest pale into insignificance. One thing is more alarming looking that any other single scary happening today ...
... the state of my kitchen having boiled beetroot. It's a bloodbath in there!! Eeeek!
Conversations with a self
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