I feel I should have been dressed as a paramedic this hallowe'en. An adolescent came to the door, having fallen in a neighbour's driveway. There was not an insignificant amount of blood pumping out of two knee wounds. I told him I approved of his shunning the fake stuff and going full method with the gore, but he didn't seem to appreciate the gag.
Anyway, no sooner was he patched up and sent off to his waiting parents, than my daughter was caught on the forehead with a burning marshmallow. (She and some friends were making 'smores) If Harry Potter had a scar the shape of a mars bar, then she could pass it off as a pastiche of the boy wizard. As it is, it's a race against time for it all to be cleared up before the Peterhead panto kicks off.
When I was a lad, the biggest danger was choking on a monkey nut, or drowing when dooking for apples. Oh for those days again...
