Halloween experience I'll never forget

 

Halloween is meant to be fun. It amuses the children and (for me) it is a source of chocolates and sweets. So I'm in favour of that.

But sometimes Halloween goes too far. That's up to people of course, but I don't like it when it involves me. Do your own thing if you want but don't involve me. Don't put me in a difficult situation.

As happened years ago. I'll never forget it.

We were at a Halloween party given by my boss at his large house somewhere deep in the country. That in itself was a setting for a spooky film. 

A big, dark,18th Century manor, surrounded by tall trees. 

Autumn leaves falling to the ground; giving the impression that the bare trees silhouetted against the dark sky, lit by an anaemic moon, were ready to bend down and grasp you in their branches and do unspeakable things to you.

I had gone there with another work colleague in his car. So there was no way I could back out and pretend I was unwell and wanted to go home.

There were about a dozen or so people at this party. It was quiet and pleasant enough, and everyone was talking about work amongst the canapés and drinks and soft music from a violin being played on the Hi-Fi speakers. 

Why do they call them canapés? Did you know it means a leather settee or couch, in French? What a stupid thing to call them.

For those who don't know it, a canapé is a small piece of bread or pastry with a savoury topping usually from a tin of cat or dog food. It is presented to you on a platter. You take one delicately with your fingers and pretend to enjoy it whilst making meaningless conversation about nothing with someone who would most probably bore the pants off you!

That's the official definition in the new dictionary which I am currently writing.

So there we were boring each other to an early death making inane conversation about profit margins, economic out-turn and the bottom line ... actually ... to be honest ... I was very interested about the bottom line of that beautiful young lady in the very low cut dress both at the front and the back. How did she keep that dress in place? It seemed that the delicate garment was hanging on to dear life at every contour of her body. Do you think she used Velcro? A two-sided tape maybe, stuck to her body at certain parts and holding the dress by Velcro? 

The mysteries of life for ever haunt me ...

As I was saying before that woman interrupted my thoughts ... we were canapeing and drinking and talking when my boss' wife suggested we have a seance. 

Most of the guests were enthusiastic about it; either genuinely so or they were afraid of the boss. I of course was too much of a coward to be afraid of the boss. I was afraid of losing my job instead.

Anyway, Isabella ... that's the boss's wife, brought out a Luigi Board which she had bought from Italy when she visited her parents the previous year.

About six of the guests sat round a table and put their fingers on this little contraption which moved freely on the Luigi Board.

Isabella read the instructions from the manual that came with the board and then asked, "Is anyone there?"

The little contraption spelled out, "Whatsa do yah wanter ... I am bizzy making dah pizza right now!"

Turns out she had summoned an Italian ghost which came with the Luigi Board as an additional extra.

The seance took a little longer than usual because we had to translate everything the ghost said; but I got a nice recipe for tagliatelle with carbonara sauce.