Thank goodness we’ve gotten through that American Halloween thing. That business of ghosts and witches and children coming to the door dressed up. Not the sort of thing that we Britons would ever do. And now that we are in Australia we are appalled to see the local children following those overseas traditions. Hrmmmmph.
When we were at home in Gormless, or East Battersea, or St. Mary Foot Under The Necke we never had this trick or treating. We went regularly to vespermatins at St. Chinlesse parish church and prayed for our betters. Halloween was a sacred festival and our betters made sure we knew it. We mourn the loss of the class system here in the colonies, though the fact that the suburb is crowded with Asians and South Africans who have more money and arrogance than we can manage at present makes it a little awkward. But at least we do not have to let American ways here.
I said so clearly last week at the Caltex service station and again at the Hungry Jacks restaurant. But no-one listened.
Well at least we can look forward to a decent upstanding righteous festival in a few days time. Guy Fawkes Night. That glorious celebration of the torture, hanging, and dismemberment of opposition to the Church. The English Church, of course. Also the English Monarch, The English Parliament, and the Manchester Board of Trade.
No-one trifles with the Manchester Board Of Trade.
And I am happy to say that we Britons celebrate our festivals with dignity. We pile up combustible rubbish for weeks prior to the event, children beg for money in the streets, and we blow off hands and eyes with Chinese fireworks.
As any decent Christian would. Hrmmmmph.