BORROWED TIME
Lately I have decided to embrace Halloween, a celebration with which I have no cultural connection and in which I once honestly took no interest. In the past, gangs of marauding, well-disguised neighbourhood children greedily grabbing at sweets held no charm for me. But then my own son and his friends decided they, too, wanted to dress up and suddenly eyes. It was a horrible fail. Our son looked like a sleep-deprived Ku Klux Klan member. But there we were, Seb the not-so-friendly ghost, his trying-desperately-to-look-skeletal mom and long-suffering dad ready to take to the streets.
