On Halloween, there are gangs of children roaming the village, dressed as ghouls, ghosts and vampires.
They’re trick or treating, a tradition which for years I didn’t like very much because it seemed so menacing and demanding and (sorry, my American friends) so, well, American.
However, here in Lush Places there is an unwritten rule that children go only to places decorated for Halloween or with a pumpkin in the window.
Living in the middle of the village, the children seem to make a beeline for our house, where a cheerful little pumpkin made by the youngest granddaughter balances on a Waitrose cup for life and is draped in spooky lights.
But it’s lovely to see them because this year I am prepared. I’ve got in supplies from Lidl, decanted the sweets into smaller containers and then invited the children to help themselves.
They’ve all been very polite, apart from one small boy who plunged his hand in and took out about seven sweets all at once but then I did say he could help himself.
Earlier this afternoon, children in witches’ hats and skeleton outfits scaled the new play tower on the village green, shrieking and yelling in delight at the new equipment that’s just been installed.
And this morning, the usually bored-looking children waiting for the bus to take them to secondary school were up on the green, whooping and hollering and enjoying the see-saw.
The sound of children having fun makes me happy to be alive.
A friend of mine recently shared a quote with me which was said by Nelson Mandela: ‘The true character of society is revealed in how it treats its children.’
Although there are not many treats left in our house this evening.
Maddie Grigg 