Seeing children all dressed up at at my door on Hallowe’en, and their proud mums standing behind them, is always a highlight of the year.
So I will miss them terribly this year, and I’ll miss eating the leftover sweets. But it’s right to follow the restrictions and more important to keep everyone safe.
My sons Jonathan and Robert never really celebrated Hallowe’en because when they were young we hadn’t really adopted all the big American ideas like trick or treating as we have now.
Instead Hallowe’en reminds me about a spooky experience I had.
When my husband Colin was alive I always told him I fancied seeing a Medium but he always told me psychics and such like were a load of bull.
Then a few years after he’d passed away, my friend Sue in Manchester had a psychic to her house and I couldn’t resist going along. My friends advised me not to give anything away by showing emotion when I was talking to him, so my steely face hid my nerves.
Within minutes he said things only I could have known.
As soon as I sat down, he looked over my left shoulder and said he had two people battling to come through to me. He said: “The name that’s coming to me is Colwyn.”
I went numb. I thought of my Col. And my mum, who was called Olwyn. And when he told me the pair of them were jostling to come through, I thought, ‘Yep - that’s my mum. Always had to be at the front of the queue’.
The Medium went on to say one of the spirit’s names was Colin Michael - hardly anyone would have known my Col’s middle name.
He told me Colin was content now because he was with his brother called Peter. Again, that’s a family detail hardly anyone would have known.
I left wishing I’d spent £70 for an hour rather than half the time and money. And I felt somehow comforted.
I won’t go again though. It can be a dangerously slippery slope, paying money to seek comfort from beyond the grave. And I do have Colin’s warning in my mind.
I’m left believing there’s something else out there beyond every day life as we know it. But I don’t know what it is and I don’t think we should try to look too hard.
People we have lost and loved live on in our memory and hearts. But I think we should let them rest in peace.
My predictions were a load of balls
My football score predictions on Robert’s Five Live radio show were spot on last week, so I couldn’t help boasting about them in this column.
This week my predictions were rubbish - so that’ll teach me.
Strictly emotional
Good news: I managed to tape Strictly properly this week. And it cheered me up no end.
I love it so much, I get emotional when dances go well. I cried when Caroline Quentin filled up. And also when Anton danced because I think he’s the best ballroom dancer of them all.
I missed Bruno’s hilarity. But I was slightly relieved he wasn’t there because I worried that one of these days, those flinging arms of his would accidentally knock poor Shirley Ballas out.
Resigned to being alone this Christmas
I really felt for Victoria Derbyshire when she said she would break the rule of six over Christmas because it’s so important to have family together.
And I know, given all the coronavirus rules that have come and gone since March, it’s easy to say: “Sod this for a game of soldiers”. Being separated from family on such a special day is painful.
But people breaking the rules are behind this scary second wave. And staying apart now means we’re separated only temporarily. While the virus is so rife, we need to protect ourselves and our families.
I realise I’m lucky because I can FaceTime my family and share Christmas Day with them that way, but I’m resigned to spending it on my own. If we need to sacrifice one day to get the country moving again, we must.
I know a lot of people in my generation will be sad if we’re not with our loved ones. But I also know a lot of us will insist we’re fine.
Maybe because we’re the children of a war generation, we’ve been taught to be resilient because we know our parents had it far harder than we could ever imagine.
We’ve been brought up to get on with whatever life throws at us without a word of a moan.
So it might be hard to spot any older people around you who are lonely, because a great many won’t admit it because they don’t want to burden anyone.
So during lockdown, when everything is harder and quieter, why not pick up the phone to have a little chat with someone of my generation? When people do that to me, it means the world.
One small step for spam kind
In 1969 the world had the technology to send men to the moon. And now we have so many speaking gadgets and robots it’s like living in a sci-fi film.
So why, in this day and age, hasn’t anyone invented a better way to open a can of corned beef?
During the week I really fancied a corned beef and tomato butty, but struggled with the key on the tin until the damn thing broke.
By then I had the taste in my mind and the tin was getting on my nerves, so I went at it again with the tin opener until a tiny bit was open. I couldn’t slice the corned beef because it all squeezed out in one big blob. I still ate it though.
Mess with my essentials at your peril
The Welsh government has messed with my plans to write my Christmas cards early. Because although I’ve already bought my cards, I like to use a pen which writes like a fountain pen.
But my friend Sheila told me all the pen sections are taped off in Sainsbury’s because they’re deemed non essential items.
This week a Welsh teenager was also told tampons weren’t essential - which turned out not to be true. If they say Tena Ladies aren’t essential, I will get in a taxi to Cardiff, march all the way into the Senedd building and launch a one woman protest.
If you'd like to contact Val, email features@mirror.co.uk