I think I first came across Trick or Treating in the UK 25 or more years ago. If it’s really that long, I suppose we can almost call it a tradition. Anyway, the “tradition” had not really established itself. You couldn’t buy cute costumes for little kids in the supermarkets. Yummy mummies did not yet escort their charming little vampires and ghouls from house to house getting a sugar high. Bigger kids mostly still concentrated on preparing for the celebration of burning Catholics that is November 5th, Bonfire Night.
However, we had heard that some youngsters were going around our area Trick or Treating and I was half prepared to hand over some sweets when the knock came at the door. When I opened it, however, the Trick or Treater was a huge great 15 year old girl, not even dressed up, and more often seen hanging around outside the local off license asking people to go in and buy her bottles of cider. I was rather busy and more than a little impatient and told her in no uncertain terms that thought she was too old to be getting involved in that nonsense. And I shut the door and forgot about it.
Next morning, I opened the door, a door with black surrounds and white panels, to find that the white panels had been inscribed in permanent marker: “F*** OFF!” It may be one reason why I feel disinclined to celebrate Hallowe’en, especially now that it has become so commercial. What I would like to know is when we actually started wishing people “Happy Hallowe’en” and even buying and sending cards to that effect.
Here in Portugal, we had other things in our mind. In Phil’s case this involved preparing for his third chess match. Monday night’s, against his unfavourite kind of opponent, a 12 year old girl, was a draw. Last night’s was another junior. A friend of ours commented that he should be thankful for small mercies: at least it was a boy this time.
As for me, I went walkabout in the sunshine, photographing local bits of beauty
and noticing that Rapunzel’s house appears to be being refurbished. It’s actually the Castelo Engegneiro Silva, built in the 1950s by António da Silva Guimarães, a merchant marine, entrepreneur and explorer.
I have long admired its fairytale look.
I also admire the tilework at the tops of widows on the building next door to the Castelo.
At lunchtime we set out for a light salad at the Caçarola 2 restaurant only to discover that it was closed to give staff a day off. So we ended up at a place called O Picadeiro, a bit further up the road. We were unsure of the size of portions at this place and our light lunch ended up looking like this.
So it goes.
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