Oiche Shamhna shona daoibh

The festival of Samhain, entering into the dark, the day when the veil between the human and other worlds is at its thinnest, the liminal places between land and water, sea and sky at their most breachable. When masks are put on to ward off harmful spirits and the dead are remembered,

For hair-raising delight listen to Port na bPucaí, a lament from the Blasket Islands about a woman taken by the fairies.  What's even more wonderful is that this is my new friend Billy playing the extraordinary instrument whose name I've forgotten but it's based on an ancient Celtic instrument that he makes. 
It's certainty been dark and damp and I cruised out to find something slightly Halloweenish but there was nothing save one pumpkin. I quite like that there's none of the horrendous and misplaced gory ghouls etc