Halloween was fabulous and truly my favourite night of the year.

I love everything about it: the costumes, the children, the decorations - it is with remorse that I begin to deconstruct my house, ridding it of all things pagan and gothic.

My boys were both Death, a.k.a Grim Reaper.

Though cheaply-had ones, all souls were spared for a piece of candy.

I was a witch. Also could be described as a portrait of a slow disintegration into wine excess and candy - complete with incredibly long eye lashes.






This morning we found that the evil teenagers (or, as Jakob screamed out on to the empty street, scythe in hand, freakin' buttheads) had smashed all of our pumpkins on to the street.

I didn't mind, one thing less to deal with - the emotional attachment to the rotting orange carcases, and then the devastation felt by Jakob while I try to stuff them into the green bin.