I know, I know. Wrong season. But you know what I mean. All this orange and black and forced zombieism leaves me cold.
Maybe it's because in the depths of rural Ireland where I was brought up, we never seemed to do much celebrating of Halloween. Or maybe because Christmas is so hot on Halloween's heels that it feels like overkill. Or maybe I'm just a straight descendant of Ebenezer. Whatever.
Either way, the existence of younger, more enthusiastic people in my life has ensured that Halloween is celebrated in my house, with or without me.
Our front door has entered into the spirit of the occasion.
Our front windows are not exactly welcoming.
has been resurected for the occasion,
is now pride of place at the front door,
all re-invented with new psychedelic eyeballs.
The sight of it in the front porch made even Scrooge's descendant smile.