Happy Samhain, it is the night when lots of creepy men are out on the prowl trying to give you the willies so watch out ladies! (Actually sounds like any normal night in Mansfield).
I will produce a 'No Trick or Treaters After 8pm Please' poster for the front door which usually works although we don't have many treats left..we bought a big bag of Haribo's but Mrs B is a Haribo junkie! It should reclassified as a dangerous sweet.
Now, talking of scary things, is anyone any good at deciphering dreams? Over the last couple of nights, I have had the same dream and I want to share it with you to see if anyone can help decode the hidden meaning.
I am in a big rambling old house, lit by candles and there is a roaring fire. Everyone shuffles about in the gloom not talking or really acknowledging the presence of anyone else. I am standing outside of a very important looking door and when it creaks open, there sat behind a desk is a man who look like a cross between Bruce Forsyth and a stork. He looks over his glasses down his beak and gives me a real telling off for talking to "you know who". Apparently talking to "you know who" is frowned upon.
Anyway, I go back to work and walk into this room filled with elderly men, suddenly I realise I am in some kind of home. I walk to a fireside chair, which is being guarded by two big men with rifles and there sat looking into the fire is the former President of Zambia, Kenneth Kaunda. I nod to him and he nods back and then he apologises if I got into trouble for talking to him. I just nod, not wanting to get into bother with the Forsyth Stork thing.
Kaunda then puts his hand in his pocket and hands me a note, and asks me to take it to Julius Nyerere in the Tanzania suite. I take the note and start to walk away and as I do Kaunda says 'thank you' to which I reply 'OK' and whoosh, I am magically back outside the big door and the cycle starts again.
So, why am I dreaming about a home for retired African leaders and what is in the note?
As Toyah would say, It's a misterwe!
Answers on a post card please...enjoy Halloween.
On this day in 1926, the famous magician and escapologist Harry Houdini died. He had been injured a few days earlier when he was punched in the stomach without warning by some clever chap called Whitehead. What you might not know is that Whitehead and his business partner Milia Pimple, were trying to get free publicity for a new range of spot remover creams. One of his guinea pigs was a distant relative of mine named Sebum, he was an ugly man of this there is no doubt, but he had a heart as big as a bucket. Sebum desperately wanted to make friends but his ugly face, covered in spots and blemishes, made people turn away, so he went to Whitehead and Pimple to offer himself as a guinea pig.
Now Whitehead and Pimple spotted the potential of a before and after campaign, and seeing Houdini had such lovely smooth and flawless skin, decided to ask him to be the after. What they didn't know is that Houdini had a moisturising contract with a rival firm, Oil of Ulay.
When Whitehead approached Houdini and asked for his help he produced his Oil of Ulay and Whitehead was so incensed he punched Houdini in the stomach. Four days later he was dead.
And that's a fact!