When I was a child, Hallowe'en was all about carved turnips rather than pumpkins, which were only seen in books (before being transformed into glass coaches). String handles would be attached for easy carrying and they would be lit with candles (not mine; my parents were safety conscious so I had to use a torch).
We didn't knock on doors for sweets, either. The aunties and some of the neighbours would give us cousins small amounts of money as we walked up and down the street with our lanterns and the church used to organise a party where there was a competition for the best turnip. (The photograph was taken in my aunt's house, just before me and my cousin were taken to one of those parties.)
I won once, with Marley's ghost, though I didn't have a clue who Marley was. My dad did all the veg cutting which seemed to take forever. Then he stuck two knitting needles in the bottom of the turnip from which hung one of my brother's white shirts. Wooooo!!!!!!
Earlier today, I hacked away at the pumpkin. It's now on the step outside the front door, attracting lots of lovely trick or treaters. Hopefully the sweet treats don't run out. Last Hallowe'en I had to supplement with chocolate biscuits from the tin.
This year I was determined to reduce waste and so we've had pumpkin, carrot and ginger soup with roasted chilli pumpkin seeds, followed by maple frosted pumpkin cookies.
We're pumpkined out.
So is the cat.
Once the knocks on the door have petered out, I'll be watching my favourite Hallowe'en film (he's a tinker, that Michael Myers) and finishing the day with a ghost story.
I love October 31st, me.