|Perran and a pumpkin of Yore.|
Last year, the family pumpkin had hung around for a week with me muttering “must get round to that…” but not actually getting round to it.
Finally, Pascoe heroically took up a Sabatier and hacked a toothy grin into the orange lantern, setting it outside with its candle just minutes before dusk fell.
This year, with our children all away at university, I didn’t bother with a pumpkin. So not only did I not have to carve it, I didn’t have to pretend I enjoyed the pumpkin soup afterwards.
BUT, this evening, as Nigel and I tapped away on our laptops, we could hear outside the shrieks and giggles of children.
I’d invested in sweets and put them by the front door. But without the sign of the pumpkin lantern, the giggles passed by our door. Nobody was knocking.
“How does one lure small children?” I asked Nigel.
“Perhaps a gingerbread house?” he suggested.
As we met eachother’s eye, we decided to stop. After all, one doesn’t want to sound TOO much like a witch.
Instead, Nigel looked out some dinner party candles and set them ablaze outside. Within seconds, tiny witches and skeletons had knocked at our door. Within minutes, the first pack of sweets had gone and we were scratching about for more treats.
And I was glad – who would want to miss out on so much fun?