'That was when I first learned that girls were supposed to look pretty rather than frightening on October 31'

This is my favourite time of the year. The evenings getting darker, the fires lighting, there’s no need to carry a parasol with me at all times lest a single ray of sunshine touch my skin. 

Despite my fear that organised gangs of mice are crouching under the piles of crispy leaves, waiting for me, autumn is an absolute delight. I used to love Halloween too — what’s not to love? It’s basically sanctioned gluttony, which is the best of all the seven sins — but recently, my enjoyment has soured.

Now, I clutch my phone in hand, nervously scrolling through Instagram, wondering which friend will decide that ‘Deeply Offensive’ is their primary aim when choosing their costume. It’s bad enough during the summer, when every white girl in Ireland decides that bindis and Native American headdresses are somehow acceptable festival fashion (Newsflash: They’re not) but there’s something about Halloween that causes vast numbers of people to entirely lose their sense of reason.