Then I went to the neighbouring Historical House for lunch and watched a Polish film. It had an All Saint's Day cemetery visit scene which I thought very apropos--even though, er, in the film the visiting family's loved one's grave had been moved. This scene, and the scandal of the removed body, reminds me of the cemetery in Kraków B.A. and I visited two years ago tomorrow and how it had a big monument to the "Victims of Communism" with dozens upon dozens of glass lamps around it.
When I got home this evening--racing to get there before visitors arrived for the ghost story tour downstairs (nowt to do with B.A. and me up in our attic)--I began digging away at the butternut squash. I soon remembered that the last butternut squash I carved up was months old and therefore rather dried out inside. This one, alas, was a thick and juicy young one, so scooping out its flesh reminded me rather of those islanders who chip away at whole tree trunks to make boats. But I prevailed, and our squash o'lantern has been grimacing out the dining room window for some hours.
Above is a photo of the squash from a Hallowe'en past.