WE were horribly disappointed when no little tykes came round at Halloween chanting ‘trick-or-treat’.
I was horribly disappointed because I didn’t get to ask anyone for a trick instead of a treat.
The look of complete incomprehension on their faces just makes my year.
“Trick, mister? Wassa trick? We only does treats. Giz the spice.”
Pip had indeed laid on a wicker tray of assorted spices for the kiddies and was disappointed when no-one knocked on our pumpkin-festooned door and demanded them.
Word has obviously got around that the Avisons would have you crawl bare-kneed over broken glass to earn your sweeties.
It’s the same with Jehovah’s Witnesses, Seventh Day Adventists and, for all I know, Moonies.
They rarely call now. I do so enjoy a theological knockabout and they seem determined to thwart me by staying away.
I hope we’re not marked down by the carol singers as Mr and Mrs Grumpy. (Well, OK, Mr Grumpy and Mrs Sentimental).
Come on, little choristers – the pathways’s not guarded by snapping gargoyles and we won’t pour boiling oil on your heads as you falter your way through Away In A Manger.
I know you don’t do requests so I’ll keep it simple.
I will require at least one verse and one chorus of a carol of your choice.
I will need it sung slowly enough so that my wife and I can savour the words.
I will want you to sing all four lines of the important bit of We Wish You A Merry Christmas before hammering on our door and demanding cash or mince pies.
None of this need necessarily be in tune. I would consider that a bonus and would be tempted to reach even further into my pocket for a seasonal gratuity.
Sadly, it is unlikely these high standards will be met. I fear that what passes for heavenly choirs of angels in our neck of the woods will once again give us the swerve.