I always enjoy spending Halloween and Guy Fawkes back home. Here we don't Trick or Treat – we go guising. Guising in Scotland dates back to the 19th century and involves visiting your neighbours in fancy dress and performing a turn to earn sweeties. When I was little, we'd sing songs or recite poems, but these days a quick joke seems to be more the norm. No doubt it was this tradition that was exported, then gradually Americanised, by Scottish and Irish emigrants. So far, guising holds sway north of the border, but it can only be a matter of time.
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| Muffins that Fungus the Bogeyman would be proud of |
In the old days, before the Americans sent us pumpkins, we carved our Halloween lanterns out of turnips (for turnip, if you're English, think swede ). As a veg, it's a toughie. Each lantern was a good few hours' work and the smell, when lit, was like something from the bottom of the compost heap.
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| Guisers, walk this way |
With our jolly pumpkin perched on the gatepost, a steady stream of children call at my brother's place in Nethybridge. Jokes are told, outfits explained (because it's never quite clear what they've come as), treats distributed, and my green muffins turn out to be quite revolting.
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| Jokes recited, sweets earned |
A few days later, it's Guy Fawkes and I must say, the bonfires up here are just that little bit more menacing. I'm taken along to the display at Boat of Garten where the bonfire reaches an extraordinary height. The guy on the top is so lifelike, we're quite unnerved to see flames licking around his feet, then taking off up his trouser-legs.
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Crowds at the Boat of Garten bonfire
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Burning was too good for the real Guy Fawkes, but he saved himself from the horror of being hung, drawn and quartered, by jumping off the scaffold to his death. Tonight we toast his failure with mulled wine...
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