HALLOWE'EN - TOUSSAINT
Every year the cry goes up regarding the nasty Americanisation of Halloween, and apart from the stupidity of the misnomer 'Trick or Treat' - I mean does anybody, anywhere actually trick children? and so run the risk of a child abuse charge? in this day and age. I say, bring it on, anything that increases the profile of the Halloween holiday and therefore postpones the too early Christmas madness is fine by me.
So Halloween as a child in N.I.
My memories.
Definitely, thanks to it being pre 'the troubles' * this was very much a family affair as fireworks were let off in your own back yard, accompanied by apple bobbing or apples hanging up on strings (there must be a snappier way of addressing that most frustrating of games) - no municipal firework displays required, amusement was home spun.
My friend Valerie and I were maybe a bit unique, coming home from primary school, we took to the streets, dressed up, false faces on (those nice sturdy cardboard ones) me sitting in my dolls pram, legs and arms akimbo as being the smaller of the 2 of us I played the part of the Guy, yes Guy Fawkes in N.I., I said we were unique. So off we went to beg. Begging frequently figured in our list of past times, what lovely little street urchins, we often tried to tout withered wild flowers, clothes pegs, crap we had made, door to door, in the never ending search for sweet money.
Back to Halloween - we started weeks in advance and doggedly called on the doors again and again that had not been opened to us on the past comb of the neighbourhood, it was a war of attrition. Once we had amassed a goodly amount of money, off we cycled to town, to either J.C's or Smyth Pattersons (Lisburn people will remember) and there choose from the glass topped counter individual Catherine wheels, jumping jacks, fountains or small rockets - like selecting pick and mix sweeties. Rockets were the most expensive commodity and our budget rarely stretched past the most insignificant burp as opposed to an explosion. We let our treasures off pre Halloween and the above mentioned family party. Just note this was an accepted way of having fun for a 8 - 10 year old back in the day.
Regarding health and safety, fast forward to here in France, last night on the news they had a snippet on the business of growing pumpkins which included the farm launching a pumpkin carving workshop for kids - there they were carving - with proper sharp knives - little children, and I guessing if any of them got maimed they were jolly well told not to be so clumsy, it was all their own fault.
And that reminds me, pumpkin carving, tosh and nonsense, those darned americans again, we were made of steelier stuff - turnips. Dear lord they were hard to carve, and boy did they stink especially as they started to rot p.d.q. - so we only bothered with those for a couple of years during the olden days of childhood.
Toussaint.
All saints day, 1st November, here in France is mainly marked by the abundant arrival of potted chrysanthemum flowers in the shops the be purchased and then placed on the graves of your dear departed. We live on the road up to our town cemetery and the pedestrian traffic increases expedientially as families go to pay their respects and then celebrate the day with a big family get together naturally centred around eating a jolly good meal. The weather has been wonderful for the past few days and the pots of chrysanthemums are lovely splashes of colour around the cemetery which was an oasis of activity yesterday morning as people came with their flowers, tidied their family plots and had a quiet moment, hopefully contemplating past beautiful days.
'the troubles' *
After all these years it has only struck me what a master of understatement our entitlement of times of violence in our little country was. All I can think of is the Star Trek episode 'The Trouble with Tribbles', no comparison.
So Halloween as a child in N.I.
My memories.
Definitely, thanks to it being pre 'the troubles' * this was very much a family affair as fireworks were let off in your own back yard, accompanied by apple bobbing or apples hanging up on strings (there must be a snappier way of addressing that most frustrating of games) - no municipal firework displays required, amusement was home spun.
My friend Valerie and I were maybe a bit unique, coming home from primary school, we took to the streets, dressed up, false faces on (those nice sturdy cardboard ones) me sitting in my dolls pram, legs and arms akimbo as being the smaller of the 2 of us I played the part of the Guy, yes Guy Fawkes in N.I., I said we were unique. So off we went to beg. Begging frequently figured in our list of past times, what lovely little street urchins, we often tried to tout withered wild flowers, clothes pegs, crap we had made, door to door, in the never ending search for sweet money.
Back to Halloween - we started weeks in advance and doggedly called on the doors again and again that had not been opened to us on the past comb of the neighbourhood, it was a war of attrition. Once we had amassed a goodly amount of money, off we cycled to town, to either J.C's or Smyth Pattersons (Lisburn people will remember) and there choose from the glass topped counter individual Catherine wheels, jumping jacks, fountains or small rockets - like selecting pick and mix sweeties. Rockets were the most expensive commodity and our budget rarely stretched past the most insignificant burp as opposed to an explosion. We let our treasures off pre Halloween and the above mentioned family party. Just note this was an accepted way of having fun for a 8 - 10 year old back in the day.
Regarding health and safety, fast forward to here in France, last night on the news they had a snippet on the business of growing pumpkins which included the farm launching a pumpkin carving workshop for kids - there they were carving - with proper sharp knives - little children, and I guessing if any of them got maimed they were jolly well told not to be so clumsy, it was all their own fault.
And that reminds me, pumpkin carving, tosh and nonsense, those darned americans again, we were made of steelier stuff - turnips. Dear lord they were hard to carve, and boy did they stink especially as they started to rot p.d.q. - so we only bothered with those for a couple of years during the olden days of childhood.
Toussaint.
All saints day, 1st November, here in France is mainly marked by the abundant arrival of potted chrysanthemum flowers in the shops the be purchased and then placed on the graves of your dear departed. We live on the road up to our town cemetery and the pedestrian traffic increases expedientially as families go to pay their respects and then celebrate the day with a big family get together naturally centred around eating a jolly good meal. The weather has been wonderful for the past few days and the pots of chrysanthemums are lovely splashes of colour around the cemetery which was an oasis of activity yesterday morning as people came with their flowers, tidied their family plots and had a quiet moment, hopefully contemplating past beautiful days.
'the troubles' *
After all these years it has only struck me what a master of understatement our entitlement of times of violence in our little country was. All I can think of is the Star Trek episode 'The Trouble with Tribbles', no comparison.
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