DAUGHTER went to a Halloween pumpkin carving session recently. She returned with an orange gourd slashed disturbingly across the middle, asking: “Can you guess what it is?” Alas, dear reader, I could not. She was more than a little miffed that her artistic genius had fallen upon such fallow ground.

A few days later, I was describing the unfortunate episode to editor Zoe, and provided a rough approximation with hand gestures. “Is it the crack in the wall from Doctor Who?” she replied. It was, and she had divined as much without even a photograph for reference.

My flabber was well and truly gasted. Never in a month of Sundays would I have associated that gaping maw with a recurring storyline from Matt Smith-era sci-fi.

Zoe asked me if I could write a column entitled: “Is trick or treating dead?” This sparked a memory; a quick Google search revealed I had written just such a column two years ago, with the exact same title. I didn’t have an answer then, and I don’t now.

There are numerous reasons for this. First of all, I live in an extremely quiet cul-de-sac that hardly anyone knows is there. Trick-or-treaters rarely venture up this way, and if they did, they would find slim pickings – we might have the pumpkin, but I certainly haven’t stocked up on sugar for the occasion. (Did you know your average Chupa Chup lolly consists of 78% sugar by weight?). I do have a couple of cuberdons left over from a recent trip to Brussels – but those succulent raspberry-flavoured jellies are mine, and I will defend them to the death.

Secondly, I was never encouraged to go trick-or-treating as a kid, and that didn’t bother me in the slightest. I faintly recall carving a swede, which I’ve heard is the traditional way in Cornwall, as it was in Lincolnshire. It was flippin’ hard work – it’s a wonder I still have all my fingers.

The Other Half is in a similar boat, and we have therefore grown up with if not an antipathy, then at least an ambivalence to the season. We’re not unusual; in 2024, only 28 per cent of Brits were planning to participate in Halloween activities (source: YouGov). The most common reason for not doing so was lack of interest, followed by having no kids.

Earlier today, Daughter lamented the effect this has had on her own childhood, which amounted to: “You would never buy me a decent outfit for the occasion! I used to get bullied!” I’ll allow you a minute to take out and tune your tiniest violin.

The truth is more that I would fork out for an outfit one year, and point out the following that a lack of growth spurt meant it would still fit. I might as well have suggested Kim Kardashian wear the same dress twice on the red carpet.

It would appear Daughter is not alone in this regard. According to a survey by UK commercial waste and recycling provider Waste Managed, Brits spend £600m on Halloween, and the vast majority of outfits and other paraphernalia is used just the once. Many are not even recyclable. I find that absolutely shocking.

Last year, Daughter went out for Halloween dressed as Astarion, a High Elf rogue/vampire spawn from the Baldur's Gate 3 video game series (look it up – I had to). This involved the sacrifice of existing clothing on its last legs, augmented with the purchase of a dodgy wig and elf ears online (and fake blood from Tesco). I could stomach parting with cash in the knowledge that other bits had been repurposed and recycled.

It all seems a far cry from the festival’s Celtic origins. Samhain marked the end of harvest and the beginning of the darker, colder winter months, effectively serving as New Year. On October 31, the Celts believed the boundaries blurred between the living and the dead, allowing ghosts to return; the living wore masks to avoid being recognised.

Under Christian influence, this evolved into All Saints’ Day on November 1, preceded by All Hallow’s Eve. Traditions such as “guising” and “souling” grew, and were imported by Irish immigrants to the USA, who subsequently exported them across the Atlantic to our shores.

Fast-forward to the 21st century, and while I love to see local attractions getting on board – a convincing Grim Reaper here, a ghoulish film there - there is something considerably less spiritual and more cash-cow about the way we celebrate Halloween, and I despair at some of the silliness.

Do drivers really need to be warned that wearing a mask behind the wheel could lead to £1,000 fine and three penalty points, or that inflatable outfits may prevent you from sitting normally and fastening your seatbelt? (Thank you, GM Rides). Or that positioning jump-scares near flights of stairs could land you in hot water legally? (Thats’ injurylawyers4u).

In any case, I wish you a happy Halloween, and entreat you to send any photos (nothing too scary) to [email protected].