Posted in Culture/History, Stories

Carnival Fright – with a wink- In Holland

The door bell rang in the middle of the night. It was 1.30am. I was out of bed and onto the landing – heart pounding – before my conscious mind knew what was happening. After the sound subsided, I heard a key turn in the lock, accompanied by smothered laughter in multiple male voices. With a relieved grin I stepped back into my bedroom. Sean was home!

Many hours earlier they had left to celebrate carnival in our village, wearing a couple of fezzes and skirts. An oversized white shirt. Even one in a bright orange carrot suit with matching hat and gloves. Happy and lively young men. Of course I wasn’t allowed to take a picture. So I did it when they were a bit further away and unrecognizable 😉

Back in bed I heard all kinds of noise. Footsteps in the living room. Talking, shouting, shhhh’ing and then more laughter. The front door repeatedly banging against the wall. And every time there was a sound or vibration near the front door, my hovering witch jumped into action and cackled with her blue eyes flashing red. In fact she was working overtime. After ten minutes, her cackling irritated the hell out of me – and probably also out of my neighbors – but by then my son’s friends were leaving again.

I got the witch as a present about eight years ago and haven’t changed the battery even once. She must be magical! My witch is so ugly that she’s cute and frightens every newcomer in our house. Plus unsuspecting mailmen. And hopefully burglars.

An hour later that night I was awakened by a loud BANG. Again my heart fluttered in my chest and I sneaked downstairs in the dark. Nothing. All was silent and still in the moonlight. The attic was also dark and the door to my eldest son’s room was closed. A quick check-up on the other one revealed nothing but soft snores and two unblinking cat eyes staring back at me. Hmmm.

In the morning I noticed that Sean’s metal litter bin was lying halfway across the room. That explained the bang. Around 1pm his head appeared around the corner, a silent plea for painkillers in his eyes. A healthy brunch and a bath helped a lot.

Earlier that weekend my other son made me gasp for air too. I heard them talking upstairs and Sean telling Nick that he would give me a fright if he went down like that. He came anyway. Luckily I was a bit prepared, else I would have squeaked. Nick was dressed in a bright green morphsuit. You don’t know what a morphsuit is? Well, I didn’t either. Let me show you:

Apparently one can see and even drink through the hood. The zipper is at the back, which means you can’t open it yourself. Even the thought of wearing one is horrifying to me. I need AIR. I need to be able to get OUT. Where does one leave one’s keys and money dressed like that?! Nick decided to wear bermuda shorts over the suit. He also wore a shirt underneath. I was happy about that. 😉

I don’t celebrate carnival myself, though I had a lot of fun when I was younger and still lived down south in Hoensbroek. Some bad experiences block the carnival feelings I might still have left, so I rather stay home and see my sons, Vman and their friends enjoy themselves.

I’ll leave you now with two pictures of the beautiful carnival parade of our town: