Halloween is serious business.

Some creative things I did this Halloween.

I take Halloween quite seriously. Not so seriously that I spend a load of money (ahem, one word Sarah: booooze), or even bother to decorate the house.

It’s the DIY and crafty vibe of Halloween that I love so much. For one night of the year I can justify my hoarding problem.

That stack of newspapers sitting in the car boot are actually used in some papier maché. The old jewelry I never wear might actually be worn. Shells and beads, yes please. The scraps of fabric saved from last year’s costume can be stitched into the next, AND I can justify owning spools of thread in every colour under sun.

This was the first Halloween spent at home since I was a small child. It’s always been a big drinking night out for my besties and I, although covid kinda (thankfully) broke that cycle.

The year we were the 27 Club (I'm Janice Joplin with the pint), the year we were fruit and veg (well I was a Weteran - a watermelon veteran), and lastly, the year we were comic characters (I did win the pub competition with that mental Joker make-up).

Last year I spent three days making the mask that became Lady Jangles - instead of a four-hour face painting/make-up job (and a significant amount of stress) as per years previous, being able to don a rather impressive mask (tooting my horn, toot toot) was such a luxury.

Historically it’s really been a rather selfish endeavour - go out, so no need to buy sweets for the kiddos, instead drink the equivalent calories in cocktails, feel great because everyone tells me how creative I am.

Lady Jangles, my finest Halloween creation yet, and my partner's really cool cyborg mask I may have bullied him into making from all his old PC parts.

At some point in the midst of the Lady Jangles creative process, I realised that I would no longer find gratification in the “big reveal” at the pub. What’s the point in all this? Aside from the obvious… (I’m a big kid and any excuse to get my hands dirty will do.)

Creativity for creativity’s sake is as good a reason as any - as is friendship time.

Still, as I glued strips of garden centre hessian sack and bones from my random beach combs to the store-bought base mask, I really just wanted to have an excited child beside me to share the experience.

Halloween is level ten nostalgia - even, dare I say, more so than Christmas.

My Nana wasn’t very good at expressing love through words or physical affection, but she sure showed it through her dedication to a good costume (and a big feed, or stationary shopping).

One year I wanted to be Zorro, another a feckin’ Rotweiler dog. I slept in my Leopard suit for as long as it would fit me, even though the material was horrendously scratchy and rather too warm.

And suddenly it made sense why spending Samhain in a pub was no longer fulfilling - I wanted to honour my elders and give the gift of Halloween to my own child.

This was my call towards Motherhood.

Well, one of them, the biological clock was ticking quite loudly at this stage. Not long after this we discovered Nooshy was on the way, and I was so excited to share this Halloween with him.

I didn’t think I would be able to Halloween without him.

I didn’t think I would hold it together, but I decided to ensure that the spirit of Halloween would remain regardless, so I knocked round to the neighbours and offered to facepaint their kids this year.

Then I got carried away.

The Halloween decorations in the shops started to appeal to me.

So bloody expensive though. Feck it I’ll give the old oil pastels a whirl, it’s been about a decade and I have that big board gathering dust behind the sofa.

I also really love the grossness of icky imagery. I have quite a penchant for the macabre, although you would never guess if you first met me.

So I rehashed some art I liked on Pinterest to stick in the upstairs window - throwback to David Firth’s Salad Fingers for all you other weirdos my age spending too much of your youth on YouTube. Mr. Creepy Long Face just called out to me.

Then I carved my first pumpkin - with lemons and limes for eyeballs (my partner’s touch).

Then I happened upon this skeleton in the shop and thought “Why would anyone buy such - wait a minute… The dirt pile out the front!”

Then I made my dead man’s treasure platter… Why yes, that is parma ham.

And THEN, rather than wear Lady Jangles a second year in a row as planned (heresy I know!), I got rather carried away with what was meant to be some simple black eye makeup.

And even though Nooshy isn’t here, and even though I’m sad, AND even though I thought tending to someone else’s kids, when all I want is my own, would hurt like hell, it was fun to spend my first Halloween at home, looking like some crazy voodoo lady… Even though the neighbour’s kids were our only trick-or-treaters.

Several times.

They made a killing off us (har har) to be fair, but it was lovely.