Friday 02 November 2001

Australians do not observe Halloween. They just don't. I am not sure if this is because Australians tend by nature to be cynical about such things, and figure there's enough holidays without taking up a Murkan one, particularly when the Melbourne Cup is only a few days into November and it would be terribly to detract from that important event*; or, and this kinda relates to the anti-Murkan sentiment often found, and that is that Halloween simply hasn't been Hallmarked yet. Maybe its just a matter of time.

*  I am a huge fan of the Melbourne Cup, and always join in Cup Day office sweeps and hat competitions; also it is the only horse race I do have a flutter on, as I am basically anti-gambling, also just not interested, although I imagine I'd be very good at it as I have won money on the Melbourne Cup since I was twelve years old. Sums ranging from $4.00 to $40.00. And would have been far more if I was more confident; one year I picked the trifecta but, faint-hearted as I am, only put money on each horse for a place. I would have won about $400.00, even given my bet was in the region of 50 cents. Meh.

Anyway; Halloween. Not been exposed to it before. Aware of its existence from childrens' literature and news stories about razor blades in "candy" (I put "candy" in quotation marks as Australians call such substances lollies, and I am now having to get use to referring to "sweeties". Too confusing).

Thus this year was a totally new experience for me, the Northern Irish getting into the event with great enthusiasm. Although said enthusiasm is more for the fireworks and rockets and miscellaneous things that make loud bangs and bright lights, than for the folk tradition aspects. Dressing up is becoming more popular too. 

My first realisation of this new concept was around the beginning of October. One evening after dinner I was tippy-tapping happily on this here cute sexy laptop (Sam  was blowing the shit out of some unfortunate participants in an online game of Unreal Tournament, or something) when there was a loud ***BANG*** close by and attendant bright light in the vicinity of our street. I jumped. I squeaked. Sam laughed and laughed. When I had stopped hitting him for being so unsympathetic to my fright, he explained that it was a "banger", ie a firework, and some wee lads were getting into the Halloween action a trifle early. Like, four weeks?

So that became a regular occurrence throughout October, and I became blase about loud bangs and bright flashes (oh okaaaay, I pretended to be blase; I still had all kinds of hell frightened out of me but I stopped physically leaping out of my seat). Even when they seemed to be aimed right into our own backyard.

The Day itself came around. We had been asked to a party that night by The Menace and Anya, and I was going to be allowed to set off my very own, very first, firework (breaking my firework cherry, so to speak; I had only ever experienced sparklers before, a source of great amusement to our hosts). Being lazy unprepared unorganised sods, Sam and I were not properly costumed (though I have a brilliant idea for next year); however Sam brushed his hair down into its most unattractive styling, wore computer geek wear and carried two laptops and said he was Bill Gates. I wore a work suit, a long black trenchcoat, did my hair into a straightish bob and said I was Scully. Yes, we are weak and pathetic now shut up. 

The Menace was the first fright of the evening. He was dressed, in a maske he had made himself for some convention or another, as one of The Gentlemen from the episode "Hush", Buffy Season Four. I squeaked. Anya was in a gorgeous slinky Morticia-y outfit with a witchy blade in her belt, fishnets and spike heels. Wow. 

So we had fireworks!!!! And they were pretty!!!! Ooooh prettypretty bright sparkly! And in the process of making a catherine wheel do its spinny flashy thing The Menace burnt a hole in his daddy's pretendy-well garden feature thingy which made us all laugh rather a lot but The Menace was making plans to leave the country ... And I did set off a firework all on my very own and it went bang and zoomed right up and there were colours and stuff. 

I could get into this Halloween thing, alien concept as it is.

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Have any of you the faintest idea how terribly difficult, nay, impossible, it is to find classy bridal underwear stuff? In my dreams, what I envisioned was a smooth slinky form fitting bodysuit in some microfibre-y fabric, no bones except for underwiring under the bust, thin straps set wide apart, possibly removable, and suspenders optional. Basically something that wouldn't show or poke through the soft chiffon stuff of the dress but would give me support in the bosom area yet I would be able to sit down without perforating a vital internal organ. Oh ha ha ha, I have yet again given thee all evidence of my naivety and general lack of smarts. 

Everything in the bodywear line was either/or/and;  prickly with lace; more vicious boning than a velociraptor (alive or skeletal); something called "shapewear" which is corsetry designed to ruthlessly smoosh all your flesh and bones together into some sadist's vision of the feminine ideal (and incidentally, is impossible to put on or take off without three people helping, and would require one to accessorise with colostomy bag); enough padding and engineering in the bosom area to raise the Titanic, and hence placing my girls somewhere past my ears; a thong that threatened to slice one vertically in half before one even had the opportunity to be officially spliced, let alone cleaved? (What is it with the cleaved bit anyway, can someone tell me?)

I searched high and low and tried on dozens of such torture devices. Finally I did what I should have bloody done in the first place; logged on to gorgeous heavenly darling Figleaves.com, found the perfect item, ordered it on a Friday afternoon, it was delivered to my door at 0830 Monday morning, and strike me down with a drifting cat hair, the damn thing actually fitted. 

Gorgeous, gorgeous Figleaves.com, mwah mwah, thank you oh thank you (sniff).

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I would like to take this opportunity to express my deep regret and sadness at the demise or otherwise hiatusing of Anna's Lucidity and Karen's Thought Experiment. Two of my ultimate favourite reads, that would invariably make me giggle or think deep thoughts or go broody (in the case of Karen, first, then Anna; more journal sprogs!), or just wish I was fortunate enough to really know them. 

Anna, Karen; I understand why both of you wonderful women have to take a break, I just wish, from the bottom of my selfish heart, that it didn't have to be so. Look after your gorgeous selves and your sprogs and tadpoles, and please please come back soon.

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