Just once, ever.

It’d be 1979 or 1980. We’d left York and were living in Market Weighton – a small town mid-way between York and Hull. We only spent two years there though they were fun – and it was a different kind of life to the city life I’d grown up with.

My sister and I dressed up as something, I don’t know what. I suspect it wasn’t a halloween cosume, just whatever we could cobble together – and we went around the houses, knocking on the doors and saying “trick or treat”, and everyone gave us sweets.

We got back home and had a ton of sweet sugary candy stuff from various friends and neighbours – my mum saw them. She wasn’t best pleased. In fact, she was pretty cross about it.¬†We were told off for begging, and told we’d have to go and give all the sweets back to whoever gave them to us, and how we must never ever do it again.

So that was that. No more halloweens. I get to where I am now and actually, I don’t know what to do. But I think I’m doing okay.. we’re kind of lucky here, we don’t get anyone calling for Trick or Treats, so even if I was prepared it wouldn’t matter. I never am though, it isn’t an occasion I’d automatically get things in for, though I think I did last year – and seem to remember Shaun and I stuffing our faces on the mini chocolate bars nobody came and claimed.

So yeah, I did halloween once. I didn’t even get that right.