This first group sang me a beautiful rendition of 'The Witches of Halloween' - and then proceeded to virtually clean me out of delicious Belgium chocolates (thanks to Jeanette who had left them as a welcome present when I arrived - otherwise who knows what 'trick' I might have endured).
The second group (well a young lad and his slightly older looking sister) turn up just as the fireworks are exploding on the other side of the river and it sounds as if the village is being bombed, they are so close. The smell of sulphur is delicious.
'Would ye like a dook?"
"A what?'.
"A dook.'
"A dook?'
"Aye, a dook."
"Oh! A joke! Yes please ...."
"What's a witch's favourite lesson?"
"Ummmmm .... ahhhhhh ..... errrr??"
"Spelling!"
Chocolates for you, young man.
Eight o'clock, and I am settling down to dinner when the bell goes again. Two very scary looking 11-year olds glare at me (oh yikes, I've only got ONE chocolate left). But I take no chances when they ask:
"Trick or treat?"
"Oh, definitely a treat ...." and I scarper to find Jeanette's other welcome gift - expensively foil wrapped chocolate biscuits - which these two miniature thugs happily grab in handfuls, before scuttling off down the pathway to scare their next victim.
But what struck me the most was that these kids had not only gone to enormous efforts - and presumably a lot of planning, giggles and fun - with their costumes, but they were traipsing around the village on their own, in the dark, (no parents in sight, they were sensibly at home enjoying a quiet wee dram), randomly knocking on any front door where they saw a glint of light. No stranger danger here!
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