If someone visits me at home, they need to get through the main door to the building and the private door to the flat itself. But those two doors aren’t equal. The latter is paper-thin. The people who usually knock at it are expected, buzzed through at the main entrance. Which might explain why I get spooked by Halloween, when stranger after stranger knocks.
Maybe it’s the trick or treaters themselves. There are the cute little ones who live in the building and, because they’re with Mummy, are unlikely to fuss when I dish up nuts and dried fruits, explaining that “the palm oil in chocolate is terrible for the planet”. That’s a win-win situation: they get treats and I know they’ll never visit me again.
Then there are the groups of tall, masked teenagers. You’re not sure how they got through the first door, and they want money. And if you don’t answer the door, they’ll shout through the letterbox: “We know you’re home! Your lights are on!”
I’d love to see those smart-arses try their luck in this five-bed in Lisburn, eight miles from Belfast. Their first hurdle would be finding the private lane and getting down the extensive driveway. Then they’d have to locate us in the 4,800 sq ft of accommodation, made up of 23 rooms, including sunroom, gym and cinema (all for £575,000). But we’d be cosied up in the dedicated caravan parking area. A fitting Halloween trick, if you ask me.
