The Horrors of Halloween

One of my first Halloween memories is aged six, standing in front of my mother in a bin bag, my eyes swollen with sadness, bawling because she wouldn’t let me go trick or treating.  Her reasoning was something about not wanting her little girl to be hawking the streets for sweets and cash.

As it turned out, it wasn’t actually my Oscar-worthy impassioned plea that had made my eyes swell; it was in fact a horrific allergic reaction to the pound shop face paint I had crayoned all over myself.

And thus began my hatred of Halloween. And indeed any kind of public dress-up.

The incessant invitations to increasingly ridiculous theme parties throughout university unearthed the hatred once again, firmly biting me in the arse when, for a bad taste clothes party, several of my friends decided instead of heading for the costume shop, they’d just raid my wardrobe. I was not even invited to this party.

Recently, I have sometimes (begrudgingly) made an exception for Halloween, convincing myself that I was celebrating the Pagan festival, Samhain, not the day that makes dressing as a ‘sexy ladybird’ acceptable.

Last Halloween, since it was my final year at university, I thought, screw it, and I committed to a costume. Not really being a sexy pirate/construction worker/genie kind of gal, I thought I’d try and be a bit original. I went as the victim from Psycho. This involved wrapping myself in a shower curtain and dousing myself in fake blood – a feat that resulted in my bathroom looking like there’d been a massacre and me losing a substantial amount of my security deposit. The stains of the night remained on my skin for a good few weeks, reminding me, ‘Ha, look how much fun you had at Halloween. You love the dressing up’.

This is my first Halloween in London, so I plan to spend the night sampling the horrors of the city, those other than rush hour on the Northern line. With haunted houses, all night horror films, ghostly pub crawls and a zombie rave (cleverly titled ‘I Spit on Your Rave’) all contending to entertain this Halloween, my next step is thinking up a bloody costume…give or take that pun as you will.

I’m hesitant to resurrect last year’s ensemble in fear that the Halloween costume curse that struck me in my bin bag days will once more manifest itself. Except with all my anti-Halloween sympathies, I will no doubt have accrued enough bad juju to cause my shower curtain to inevitably become trapped between the tube doors, meaning I would greet my fellow zombie ravers in quite a naked predicament. A terrifying image indeed.

So far my only other idea for a scary costume has been sneezing and phlegmy pandemic victim. I’ve been doing a trial run this week and judging by the panicked reactions I’ve been receiving on the tube,  I might just be on to a winner.

Stuck for something spooky to do this Halloween?
Why not head to Islington for a series of Cult Film Club screenings at the Union Chapel?

Starting today, cult film fans can enjoy a selection of classic horrors set amongst crucifixes and gargoyles as part of Chills in the Chapel.

The ‘screamings’ will take place over four consecutive evenings culminating in the ultimate Halloween cult horror movie shown on the ghoulish night itself:

Wednesday 28 October: An American Werewolf in London (1981)
Thursday 29 October: Dracula (1958)
Friday 30 October: Colin
Saturday 31 October: Halloween (1978).

Movies begin at 7.45pm and all guests can enjoy pre-screening entertainment and complimentary Jameson cocktails.

The Union Chapel
Compton Terrace (just off Upper Street)
N1 2UN

Image by euart courtesy of Flickr

1 Response

  1. You want horror? How about Camden tomorrow night at 1am. The whole place is a disjointed violent stinking zombie fest by then.

    But enough about the police and bouncers. The Camden Tube area should never be entered. EVER.

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