Dave Diebold: Oh, just answer the door for God’s sake. It’s just a bit of fun
THERE'S always one, isn't there?
There you are, standing with a clown wig and plastic Pinocchio nose because that's all that's left in the dressing-up box, at the foot of some front garden, four excited tots in tow and some humourless git can't even go through the trouble of opening the door and handing out a measly handful of cheap treats.
And you can see that TV twinkling away somewhere behind the curtains, by the way.
"The doorbell's not working," peeps one.
"Bang on the window," I say.
It could be any of 12 Halloweens since the first of my four children was old enough for the glee that is stampeding through people's gardens from house to house collecting bagfuls of all the rubbish sweets we'd tend to tut-tut about the rest of the time. And I love every second of it. I love the fretting over costumes for days beforehand. I love The Barmbrack, the monkeynuts, the parlour games, the cheap masks and fake cobwebs.
I love the excitement of everyone getting all dressed up, the atmosphere on the street, the crappy fireworks fizzling out overhead and, most of all, I love taking the kids from house to house and seeing their bags fill up.
And back at the house we love scaring the bejeebers out of every kid that comes by then shoving gazillions of gobstoppers, gummy bears or tooth-wrenching toffees into their eagerly open bags and buckets.
Halloween comes once a year. C'mon, carve a pumpkin. Get dressed up and waste some money on some cheap crap and bad sweets.
Have some fun and be a kid again. You can hide whimpering behind the couch just like the rest of us for the rest of the year.
- Sinead Ryan: Finally, I can turn off the porch light, disconnect the doorbell and turn into a Halloween grinch this year. Bliss!