I remember Hallowe’en, 1957. I dressed as a fairy, or a princess or something girly. Judy would have dressed as a cowboy or a ghost or, maybe, a spaceman and Jennie might have been a witch or a princess. I was 14 and it was the last time I went trick or treating.

In late August, 1958 we moved to London. My mother had been at the University of Cincinnati studying architecture and had recently graduated. She realised that, at that time, there would be no jobs for female architects in Ohio – or possibly even in the whole of America. I imagine that she talked it over with a friend who suggested she apply to the US armed forces as they had openings, even for women, to work as architects or interior designers in foreign lands. The US Navy hired her and moved her to England – with her 3 daughters – to work in their architecture department.

In London we found a lovely big apartment in a very interesting area of the city, which was full of interesting people from all over the world. We lived on the sixth floor. The block of flats was above an ice skating rink and, because of this, the flat had direct current. This meant that we couldn’t use our lovely refrigerator that we brought from the US, nor could we buy a tv or radio that could be plugged into the current! (Of course, this has nothing to do with Hallowe’en but I always think it’s a strange fact to pass on to my readers.)

It was with disbelief and sorrow that Judy, Jennie and I found out, just two months after we arrived in London, that Trick or Treat didn’t happen in England! I can’t remember if we had Hallowe’en parties at school or the TAC (a club for American teenagers which had been given a wonderful space for dancing and socialising in The Columbia Club, an American Air Force Officers’ club in Lancaster Gate in London). This meant, naturally, that once a year we couldn’t knock on neighbours’ doors and be given packets and bars of sweets – or candy, as we called it, (though 65 years of living in England have changed that; they are now ‘sweets’ and I hardly ever hear the old joke about my name and my sweetness, any longer, thank goodness!)

(I believe that in areas of outer London where some of our school mates lived, there were enough American families to have a good haul of candy once a year on the 31st of October, and that Jennie had some friends who lived in one of those areas. She may even have been lucky enough to be visiting them at Hallowe’en but Judy and I weren’t so lucky. 😢 )

After 1958, I was grown-up! At 16 I was no longer interested in such childish things – I was more into ‘boys’, an interest that I had for four or five years until I was 20 or so when I graduated to ‘men’. (Now I realise that 20 is still a child, really, but then I thought I was an adult.)

The years passed – the 60’s brought hippies and Beatles, Rolling Stones and Kinks, college, a year’s teaching and, for me, a baby. ‘Veronica’ was born in 1964 and, of course, was told all about Hallowe’en and Trick or Treat, but sadly, didn’t have any opportunity to join her neighbourhood friends collecting sweets. But, in around 1974, I was teaching for a short time in our local primary school and, on the 31st of October, we had a playtime of Trick or Treat!

I had to be the person behind the door (actually a tree!) and the sweets ran out far too quickly but the kids enjoyed themselves! As Veronica was at that school, though not in my class, she may have joined in but I can’t remember.

Time went by. We moved from West Malling to various other villages before going back to West Malling eventually, but Hallowe’en still hadn’t caught on in England. In fact we had been living in Broadstairs for 12 or 14 years before, out of the blue, we had small evening visitors on the 31st of Hallowe’en. I doubt if I had any sweets to dole out that year but I’ve been ready ever since.

Last year I bought two tins of sweets in preparation and most were gone by 9pm. This year I’ve only bought one tin because I have some wrapped chocolates from last Christmas which weren’t eaten. I’m sure they’re okay but I feel I have to try a couple just to be sure.

On Hallowe’en the lucky children who ring at my door will be greeted by an old hag with straggly white hair wearing a green hooked nose mask and a big black cloak. I must remember to make sure Lola doesn’t come to the door with me as, last year, she was so excited by the number of people ringing the bell that she sneaked into the porch with me and made a mad dash for freedom when I opened the door! Luckily, there was a daddy standing at the bottom of the driveway who scared her back to the safety of home, before she could run into the road!