The world from my window

A hollowed-out pumpkin, with an evil grin and squinty eyes, glows in the window of the house next door. Mr Champagne-Charlie sits behind the letter box, armed with a bucket of sweets and wearing a gorilla mask. Three young trick or treaters, who I swear are Pelly Sheepwash, Mrs Bancroft and the fragrant Mrs Putter  gone backwards a few times on Ray Bradbury's carouse l, beam when I give them some fun-sized Mars Bars and a packet of Maltesers. And then they go next door, and, by the pricking of my thumbs, I hear a blood-curdling scream. 'Oobee doo, I wanna be like you-oo-oo,' Champagne-Charlie sings from behind the mask. But it is a muffled mix of latex and tone deafness. The three little maids from school hot foot it up the road, the treats flying in their wake. That's about it. Love Maddie x

The rain is coming down in sheets here on All Souls Day. The empty square is a contrast to last night when the village was buzzing with skeletons, witches, Frankenstein monsters and some children as just plain hoodies. Trick or Treat in this village is quite a civilised, good natured affair. The children are accompanied by parents or older siblings and call only at those houses where they know they will be welcomed. Up in the village hall, the garden club was holding its AGM, along with a carved pumpkin competition. We resisted the urge to go this year, thinking nothing could top our outing 12 months ago. If you missed it, go back in time , it's a good 'un. Meanwhile, back at the Grigg hovel, Mr Grigg had his own ideas about tricking or treating. When the young visitors knocked on our door, he would ask what trick they'd like. Tiring of the fact they didn't seem to get the joke, he went one step further, ready for the next lot. 'What are you doing?' I asked, as ...