CULTURE: HALLOWEEN PARTS 1 & 2

1.  HALLOWEEN HELL.

Sport is something you are highly unlikely to read about in this blog simply because I have less than 0.000recurring01% interest in it. The 000recurring01% of interest I do have is restricted to lerning how well my local football team, Sunderland, is doing and to a lesser extent the fortunes of other local teams.

Now it happens that this Halloween was a Newcastle-Sunderland derby when feelings run high but the game usually turns out to be a disappointment for both sides. The recent form of both teams is not too dissimilar with Sunderland having the slightly better run by virtue of only losing one match, winning two, and drawing the rest. Newcastle is a bit more inconsistent. I expected a goalless draw or maybe a one goal win for Sunderland.

So how the holy fuck did those Geordie bastards put 5 past our goalkeeper and we could only manage 1 in reply!

2.  WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO HALLOWEEN?

Childless adults can do either one of two things on Halloween night. Like my sister in law, you can draw the curtains, turn all the lights off, and pretend you're not in. Or, like me, you can lay razor wire at a height of 6 inches across the front path and for any kids who get over that you can open the door and remove your front teeth which, in my case, serves to emphasise my pointed canine teeth, and then scream loudly. Trick or treat, little bastards.

Only kidding. Ho ho ho. Nah, I went to Lidl and, among other stuff, picked up a few bags of sweets to hand out to the little angels.

So, it's 5.30 and dark outside and I'm expecting a knock on the door any moment. Susan is at the Animal Krackers shop so I've settled down with the new Ken Follett novel ("Unputdownable", "Novel of the year", Freethinking magazine) and the tv on in the background. 5.45 and there's a knock at the door. Two kids and their mother and I pass over a handful of sweets. Half an hour later and Susan has returned. No more knocking on the door. 7.00 and there's a knock but it's Susan's brother and they're off to see their mother.  I pick up the Ken Follett book. Susan is back by eight and there have been no knocks on the door and there won't be for the rest of the night.

So: what the hell happened to Halloween because it didn't happen in Weldon Avenue, Sunderland.