Halloween

It’s the 31st of October. 

With a full moon hovering eerily above, and the wind whistling through the trees it can only mean one thing.

It’s time to close the curtains, switch off the lights and hide under the bed for the next 48 hours.

Not to avoid visits from any ghosties and ghoulies that may come a-knocking as the witching hour approaches, but to escape the gaggle of giggling, pestering brats that are more than  likely to turn up on the doorstep.

Yes, trick or treaters.

Why on earth do we have to put up with this ridiculous yearlannoyance that has seeped over to our shores from America.

Why couldn’t it have stayed there so that I wouldn’t have to put up with the incessant ringing of the doorbell while I am trying to have dinner or catch up with Nigella’s Kitchen on the box?

And I say 48 hours because if they don’t catch you on Halloween, the cheeky sods are usually at it the next day, and the day after that.

In fact they can be rapping at the door for the next week, as the demand for sweets and money morphs into “penny for the Guy”.

At least Guy Fawkes night is relevant to our heritage and history, the same can’t be said for the commercial nonsense-fest that the last day of October brings each year.

So, for the record, if you plan on knocking at my door this evening, you’ll get no joy - so don’t bother.

This trick or treat garbage was around when I was a child although it has only become big here in the past few years.

And they are not content with a few mint humbugs - they want hard cash. 

If you don’t cough up then it’s more than likely you’ll wake up the next morning with egg yolk dribbling down the windows or chalk smattered across the doorstep.

I am not totally against Halloween, or Hallowe’en to give it its correct name.

The day, for me, marks the true beginning of autumn, when the leaves have properly turned and it really is wrap-up-warm weather.

I have to say I sometimes enjoy carving a face into a pumpkin, although if I was to follow the traditional Irish roots of the custom it would be a turnip.

Also comes the excuse to rummage through the video cupboard and fish out a good old 80s horror to make the evening go with an extra spooky swing.

My choice of movie to chill the blood right through to the marrow of my bones is the film-world’s namesake of the day - Halloween.

Directed by horror master John Carpenter, this is undoubtably the only movie that still leaves me quivering with fear.

Take your flashy special effects modern efforts - this is, and is widely recognised by buffs, as the true original and classic of its genre.

Shot on an extremely low budget in 1978 and in super quick time it tells the story of a mental patient who escapes from hospital on Halloween night before returning to the town where he grew up.

You are not given blood and guts, chainsaws or knived gloves, but a terrifying spectator view as three college students are stalked by a sinister shape lurking in the background.

Then there is the chilling white-masked killer - now iconic in horror film history.

The score, the gradual recognition of heavy breathing in the background, and the never quite seeing the face of the killer as you know he is hiding in the shadows is absolutely terrifying.

Halloween is delivered with absolute mastery by Carpenter, to the point that 34 years after it was released it has become one of the most financially successful films ever made.

It earned Carpenter recognition for truly knowing how to scare his audience, an accolade he richly deserves.

I watched Halloween when I was 10, and I remember to this day, lying petrified in bed afterwards, terrified of what could be lurking in the shadows.

If you haven’t seen it, do, but my advice is do not watch this one alone.