Hallo, ween.

Tonight, for the first time ever in London, I got trick or treaters. Though this may be because it's the first time I live in a neighborhood with more than one child, I think it's probably because trick or treating is just starting to catch on in the UK, though I can only speak for London, really.

I read an article in the paper the other day about one London borough distributing a free poster for people to put in their windows that states their lack of interest in participating in such tomfoolery as going door to door and asking for things.

Londoners are mystified when someone comes to the door. The door knocker or bell going, when you don't expect someone specific, is met with a gaze that morphs between contempt and outrage. When that someone comes after dark, in a pack, wearing dodgy costumes and demanding sweeties, the likelihood of delight on the part of the resident is slashed by 2/3rds, making it somewhere around the 0.0056320 mark, rough estimate. I actually curse when someone is at the door, and I'm not alone in this. Everyone I've ever lived with does it.  When it turns out to be the postman with something you've ordered, the ire is only marginally reduced by virtue of distraction, though you're probably still muttering about why he has to knock so bloody loudly.

But I've lived in the US and I know how much fun it can be to scare the fluids out of young kids and then ease the pain by giving them candies, all right in front of their parents and without the hassle of a collection van, storage, etc.¹

Every year for about five years, I took the precaution of buying some giant bag of sweeties - the good stuff, not the crap, cop-out sweeties - and would go about my business with one ear perked for a knock. Inevitably, nothing happened and I would wind up finding excuses to have chocolate for breakfast for a couple of weeks. This year, I bought nothing. And of course, this year, I got trick or treaters. I didn't answer the door. I figured this would be less of a let down than answering the door, instilling a flash of hope, and then basically offering onion soup and pennies. 

But lest you think the British are utterly opposed to fun or anything like it, let me point out that this part of the year is reserved for Guy Fawkes/Bonfire Night. This is the time we get together, consume apple based refreshments, light things on fire, make things explode and generally cause havoc to the nerve systems of household pets and the naturally timid. There is also Diwali to contend with. Both holidays are fire-and-explosion based in terms of celebrations which means that from halfway through October until nearly Christmas, things are exploding all over the city. I have mixed feelings about this, generally, but it's become part of the autumn to be serendaded by things going pop.

However, Halloween seems to be catching on with the younger parents and their children, and the newly arrived and it seems as if it'll be an inevitable part of popular culture soon enough. I, for one, am looking forward to roving gangs of tiny monsters seeking sugary satisfaction lest you get the egg. 

By the way, this ranks among the best things ever captured on video. Happy Halloween!

^[1]This is a joke. Do not alert the authorities.