That's because the spook-tastic day is a grey area in this wide brown land.

There's a "do we, or don't we?" vibe.

If you have children, Halloween seems fun. There are some smashing costumes out there.

When I was a kid, spooky get-ups were, let's say, rudimentary. Costume combos included: a white sheet with cut-out eye holes framed by black texta; novelty plastic vampire teeth (that were clearly not designed for the evolved human mouth) paired with a cape fashioned from a beach towel; and reams of toilet roll wrapped around limbs.

The latter get-up, or "mummy", was always doomed to fail as even the slightest movement by the wearer would send the bandages scurrying south. However, it was a versatile combo. By adding a few blood stains (beetroot juice) and well-placed plastic severed fingers, you could become an emergency department patient.

The only people who saw your ghoul show were your siblings and long-suffering parents. There was no taking to the streets for trick or treating.

This is where Halloween is unsettling.

I was caught short a few years ago when a group of junior ghouls looked expectantly over my fence. While complimenting their costumes, I desperately tried to remember if I had any non-alcoholic treats in the house. I confidently told the kids that I had the goods.

The weight of expectation was crushing as I searched the pantry. The only thing I had was a block of Cadbury.

Weirdly, it was unopened.

I gave the kids my offering, with strict instructions that they'd have to share it.

(I might have advised them also that generosity was an enviable personality trait that would stand them in good stead.) I turned and walked away so I didn't have to see their faces. It was hideous.

The following year, I was determined to be prepared. With a table full of Snickers and Crunchies, I waited. The silence was eerie.

When the witching hour had passed, I turned off the verandah light and packed away the chocolate.

Not one taker.

Had Halloween already jumped the shark in Australia? Had news spread that I had dud treats? Is there now an invitation-only trick-or-treat network?

These questions and more will haunt me this weekend as I wait in suspense for any sign of lolly-seekers.

I've even checked the COVID-safe treat distribution protocol.

As zombies and dancing skeletons have shown, it is indeed possible to rise from the dead. But I don't like my chances of escaping the Halloween Hall of Shame.

As I hit the shops on Friday to buy a few kilos of chocolate and a palette of three-ply toilet paper for my new and improved mummy costume, I felt a chill down my spine.

I'd been there before.

Ah yes, there's nothing scarier than the memory of pandemic panic-buying.

What an absolute freak show.

Happy Halloween.

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