BE VERY AFRAID!

Are you afraid of things that go bump in the night? No, of course. I am sure you are all rational people for whom Hallowe'en is just a bit of fun, and you don't feel the slightest bit of apprehension about what might happen on this most frightful night of the year. Well, I was like you once. But this year, I am shaking in my shoes: I am hosting a Hallowe'en party tonight - or rather g-hosting, as it said on the invitations. Ahem... - and I expect more than twenty children to come, not to mention the many trick-or-treaters who are going to ring my doorbell all through the evening. Believe me, Satan and all his minions are nothing to that!

I have put a lot of work into the whole thing. The house looks suitably creepy, with its creaking garden gate (okay, I didn't have to do much for that one), its hanging skeletons, its carved pumkins, and its cobwebs in every corner (believe it or not, I had to add those). And my guests will be able to feast on maggots (small brown shrimps; shelled, they really look the part), worms (gummi ones, and frankfurters split lengthways), brain cupcakes (the buttercream icing looks quite realistic), a very bloody-looking rasperry jelly (as a Frenchman, I am convinced you have to be an actual demon to ingest such a thing as jelly...), and a hellish punch complete with swarming (gummi) snakes and floating icy hands. Ironic that you have to make your house so uninviting to host a good party!

I am a bit disappointed about my costume, though. I had my eye on that lovely number in red above, but apparently I left it too late, and I couldn't get it in time. Granted, it is not what you would call a handsome devil, but he has some presence, don't you think? It looks like I'm going to dress as a werewolf instead. I'm afraid (again) it's bound to cause some friction with the few vampires among my guests...

WE WUZ ROBBED!

© The Daily Telegraph

The last post I published here before I vanished was about rugby, and I thought on my return that if I was to have any claim to entertaining and informing you, I had to mention the most important event on the face of the earth, the Rugby World Cup. For those of my readers who live outside the solar system, the world cup started 6 weeks ago in New Zealand, and finished last Sunday with a victory of the home team, the dreaded All Blacks, over my beloved Bleus (the real ones, France), who happened to be playing in white that day.

Now, it has to be said that the All Blacks had easily been the best team since the beginning of the tournament. Or since the end of the last one 4 years ago. Or since World War I... Not so for France, who up to the final, had probably had their worst world cup ever. It would be difficult for me then to claim that New Zealand lifting the Webb Ellis trophy on Sunday is a huge injustice. And yet...

Inexplicably, but all too familiarily, the French team proceeded on the day to confound every expectations by playing with an intensity, a passion that they had not shown in a long time. My hopes were starting to raise, and even neutrals were saying that the mighty All Blacks had a fight on their hands. Unfortunately, that last category did not seem to include Craig Joubert, who was refereeing the match, and whose patience apparently only extended to New Zealand infringements. In a match so evenly poised, the slightest bias was bound to have an impact on the scoresheet, and it did. In the end, France lost by just 1 point, the smallest losing margin ever in a world cup final.

Incidentally, France also hold the record of the biggest losing margin ever: 23 points in 1999, just after they beat the same All Blacks in a semi-final that is considered by many the best ever match in world cup history. I am telling you, supporting France is not for the faint of heart!

THE PRODIGAL SON

Rembrandt, The prodigal son (Эрмитаж)

The obvious paradox of blogs, is that if you're somebody to whom lots of fascinating things happen, you probably don't have the time to write about it every day. Conversely, if nothing ever happens to you, you have plenty of time to write, but about what? So, does this mean to say, or at least to suggest, that if you haven't heard about me for 2 years, 6 months and 14 days, it's because my life finally got interesting? And consequently, now that it has become boring again, I can't wait to share it with you?

Well, not quite. Certainly, a lot has happened during my time in the wilderness (I might tell you about it some day), but it shouldn't have been enough to keep me off the keyboard so consistently. And paradoxically, I am now busier than I've been in years (I might tell you about that too), and yet I feel the need, and most importantly the energy, to start posting again.

Dear reader, I know all cannot be forgiven in an instant. After all, I left you to live the wild life far from the internet, and I can only imagine how much you have suffered, waiting day after day for a new post. Maybe, Heaven forbid, you have started reading some other blog. I shudder at the thought; how can you be so fickle? But hey, let's not quarrel, today is a day for celebration. Bring out the fatted calf, Abraham is back!