Being of Scottish extraction, our Hallowe'en lanterns were made of turnips and not pumpkins. What a trial they were to carve out! The poor fingers, all cuts and turnip juice, the knife slipping just as you were cutting the triangular nostrils. And what a funny smell, burnt turnip!
And then, nothing happened.
Trick-or-treating is an American idea, and although McMum was American we just never did it. Could it be that we were a Presbyterian household? I don't think so: nobody else in the village seemed to do anything either. The turnip lantern sat all lonesome in the garden, its candle flame flickering and guttering until it was extinguished by the October wind.
Bonfire night was another matter altogether, though. Have I written about that before?
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