The Hooper coven was abroad last night, frightening the neighbours into letting go of their yummiest possessions.
That’d be the first time I’ve ever been trick-or-treating; it’s not really a tradition I have any connection with. Hallowe’en in Cornwall meant the stealing of gates and, perhaps, the pelting of houses with eggs. Trickery only — and fairly destructive trickery at that.
But Lola got excited by the whole idea and Asda had some insanely cheap witch costumes, so Lola and Neve both got dressed up and went round to five local houses fishing for treats. Quite successfully.
In more mundane news, we had two fairly productive hour-long sessions at the allotment this weekend. It suits the routine quite well to take the girls over there after breakfast and before Neve’s nap. Neve tends just to plonk herself down on the ground and play with the mud — often eating it, too. I often catch her just staring into space with a far-away look in her eyes. Lola will busy herself digging with a little trowel, pulling weeds, planting sticks.
I’ve now managed to pull most of the more-than-ankle-high weeds; then I’ll just turn it all over before the frosts come. I suspect I won’t get to double-digging it this year.