Hallowe'en

Before being corrupted by New World sloth, we had Hallowe'en and not Halloween, as google now recommends. Hallowe'en is what I grew up with, and so did the immortal James Frazer, author of the Golden Bough (1922) and Florence McNeill of the Scottish Silver Bough (1957).

Hallowe'en is definitely my favourite time of the year, not least because my birthday falls about now, as do those of my mum, step-dad, step-mum, and two of my oldest friends. I had Hallowe'en parties as a kid for my birthday, so the trees turning and leaves crunching underfoot have always had good associations. This weekend I will have the annual plethora of birthday engagements. Friday to Heather's for some of her fragrant Thai cooking, Saturday at my Edinburgh folks' for a family dinner and Sunday with the old pals and their spouses at Bann's, the best haute-cuisine vegetarian restaurant in town. It got to be my choice this year. Although I'm nominally carnivorous, the menu here makes meat superfluous.

It's Samhain too, so around now on a kid-night we'll break the tediousness of late sunrises and early nightfalls with a ceremonial spooky apple-dooking, some dancing around and pumpkin lanterns. Their dad persists with hollowing out a neep (turnip), but it's so much more work and evidence of pure stubborn bloody-mindedness. A pumpkin just needs de-seeded, but some people always hafta take the hard way round.