Rhi Axtell – Writer

It’s 28th October and you can almost taste Halloween in the air. At this time of year, the city centre is full of students dressed up in costume. We have student vampires, we have student witches, we have student zombies, we have student Ghostfaces (a lot of student Ghostfaces) all wandering the streets as soon as the sun sets – and it is usually around this time in October that I begin my annual oh no, I haven’t got a costume panic.

It’s pretty much a tradition now. I think about Halloween and ‘spooky season’ throughout the month (even more so this month) and engage with spooky media. But somewhere along the way, I forget about the main event: Halloween. You know, the spooky day that the spooky season is all about!

Usually, this results in me forgetting to plan anything or, worse, planning something and just forgetting to prepare for it at all. This year, we are in the second category. I have a plan set for Halloween – a bunch of friends are coming over to my flat (in costume, I might add) to play spooky Dungeons and Dragons. And this morning, I woke up and thought oh no, I haven’t got a costume!

Right on schedule.

But let’s not dwell on my current problems, and instead dwell on how I solved a similar problem in the past – travelling back through the mists of time to the year 2013 when I began my undergraduate course at university.

(cue spooky transition music here)

It’s 2013. I’m in university dorm, living in a room that is, at best, a glorified cupboard. It’s Halloween. I have done a terrible job of making friends so far. It is a few weeks before my girlfriend of three years will break up with me.

Everyone in the building I live in (‘G-block’) has decided to go out clubbing in costume for Halloween. I am invited. Out of desperation to seem cool and fit in, I accept their invitation. But there is one problem: Oh no, I haven’t got a costume!

I need a costume. Coolness and fitting-in require it. But it’s last minute, and about a thousand other students have had the same idea as well. I decide to go shopping at 2pm – after my brunch of a couple of handfuls of cereal from the box I keep next to my pillow. This is a mistake.

All that is left, and within my budget (why are costumes so expensive? I lament to myself as I wander around the city streets), is a Frankenstein’s monster mask from a Tesco Express (for ages three and up), some cheap fake blood, and my own creativity. I set about preparing my costume.

Frankenstein’s Monster has a cape right? – is one of the many thoughts I have while making the costume. (I saw the stage play online of Frankenstein during COVID with Benedict Cumberbatch as the monster. He did not wear a cape).

My answer to the cape fiasco is to wear a black bin bag around my shoulders. It smells awful, but then I am a student who doesn’t know how to look after himself and probably smell awful as well. I get an old t-shirt and splatter fake blood onto it. Frankenstein’s Monster was probably covered in blood all the time, so I will be too. It’s a logical Halloween leap, and I’m not the first to make it.

So children’s mask, bin bag cape, and bloody t-shirt all donned, I set out to meet the group.

They look at me with a mixture of confusion and sadness. Confusion, because they are not quite sure what my costume is supposed to be, and sadness because they have just found out that the taxis (our only way into the city centre) are refusing to take people with fake blood on their clothing.

I look down at the fake blood on my clothing. I wrap the bin-bag around myself and say I’ll stand at the back.

If the taxi driver noticed my fake blood fiasco, he doesn’t mention it. We manage to get to the club and set off on our Halloween adventure.

Within 15 minutes, I have lost everyone to darkness, dancing, and alcohol. Within 1 hour and 45 minutes, I am walking back home, feeling rather glum.

Here is where I made my one big discovery that evening:

If you’re going to make a Halloween costume and walk around at night – make sure it includes a warm coat, or jacket.

See you tomorrow.