A hollowed-out pumpkin, with an evil grin and squinty eyes, glows in the window of the house next door.
Mr Champagne-Charlie sits behind the letter box, armed with a bucket of sweets and wearing a gorilla mask.
Three young trick or treaters, who I swear are Pelly Sheepwash, Mrs Bancroft and the fragrant Mrs Putter gone backwards a few times on Ray Bradbury's carousel, beam when I give them some fun-sized Mars Bars and a packet of Maltesers.
And then they go next door, and, by the pricking of my thumbs, I hear a blood-curdling scream.
'Oobee doo, I wanna be like you-oo-oo,' Champagne-Charlie sings from behind the mask. But it is a muffled mix of latex and tone deafness.
The three little maids from school hot foot it up the road, the treats flying in their wake.
That's about it.
Love Maddie x
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