I am surrounded by portents of death. Skeletal monk like figures hover over our patio door. Katie has just interrupted me to bury a Vole that had perished at the paws of Marmaduke in the garden. The house is full of Bats and dire warnings as well as things that glow ominously in the Dark. My daughter is down for the weekend and along with Katie and family friends have made my 50th a lot less depressing.
So the rest of our day will be invaded by children ET AL in various Halloween costumes, gorging on treats and Katie's famous Lasagna; perhaps we will enjoy the real Hallows Eve proper tomorrow, in a much quieter contemplative manner.
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