What was inexplicable was ponies running around in costumes while houses and buildings were dressed up in spider webs and bat decorations and little wooden statuettes and bric-a-brac strewn everywhere in a near carbon-copy replica of modern Halloween customs from back home. Now, being Irish, Handy had shall we say, a somewhat personal association with All Hollow's Eve, both as the ancient pagan festival that had survived well into the modern era with quaint little traditions with rather macabre origins, as well as the religious feast day for all of the saints. Also, it was one of his favourite holidays next to Christmas and Easter, and the day brought fond memories of violent exchanges between his neighbours across the road as a child in friendly firework wars where you scored a point for every 'screamer' that hit the other house's wall. Of the community coming together around the village bonfire, drinking openly while playing music and instruments as the children played hide and seek in the surrounding trees of the park forest in their costumes and scraping knees and getting bloody noses from inevitably tripping, falling and chasing each other with sticks to banish the bad monsters of the group. Of mummery, where great honour was had in perpetrating the greatest fuckery of another person's property without legitimately destroying it. He remembered one of the old man's tales of how he and his friends lured their boss away from his house, deconstructed one of those old fashioned, rather massive haulage wagons of days gone by and reassembled it within his kitchen, literally filling the room to the brim and taking their boss days to get it back out. And then hitting mass before or after the shenanigans began, whichever usually came first.