IT wasn’t so many years ago that this evening was known, particularly in the North-East of England, as Mischief Night.

It was an excuse for youngsters to play tricks on their friends, parents and neighbours, and many of us have been victims.

Generally, the tricks were not malicious, vindictive or dangerous (although I know there were exceptions) and I suppose they might have been called pranks. The point was that this particular evening appears to have been a time of general permissiveness when such behaviour was tolerated without any thought of the victims making complaints that involved the police.

In other words, Mischief Night was a short period when minor acts of devilment were permitted without thoughts of retribution.

However, as so often happens, this ‘fun’ developed into unacceptable behaviour when damage was caused to people’s homes, cars or other property. However, the perpetrators continued to shelter under the umbrella of Mischief Night.

Many youngsters seemed to think, because it was Mischief Night, anything was allowed, and there is no doubt that acts of vandalism, theft or damage began to occur.

One unsavoury outcome was that gangs were formed to create damage and fear.

Things reached the stage where police forces issued warnings about unruly and malicious behaviour, always with a threat of prosecution and with a general warning that the law was not suspended for that particular night.

I think it is fair to say that the freedom of Mischief Night did not continue for very long but that was not due to the actions of the police nor a sudden desire among youngsters to be better behaved. It happened because another custom appeared to take its place, one which did not break the law although some might consider it mild blackmail.

It was known as Trick Or Treat, which, I believe, was introduced from America as a fun-game. As most of us know, Halloween falls on the last day of October, and it has long enjoyed the reputation of being something of a mystical evening. It was essentially of pagan origins and in some areas, huge bonfires were lit to strengthen the power of the sun with their ashes being spread to aid fertility of the countryside.

Ghosts were thought to wander in the darkness.

At Whitby, lovesick youngsters would climb the tower of St Mary’s Church to shout over the waves the names of their intended. They believed that if their wishes were to be granted, they would hear the sound of church bells from beneath the sea. The bells in question had been removed on the orders of Henry VIII when he dissolved the abbey in 1540. But as the bells were being carried by ship to London for the benefit of Henry, the ship sank and the bells were lost. Even today, it is said that, when the sea is stormy beyond the abbey, the sound of bells can be heard.

Another custom in the Pennine Dales at this time was known as witch lating. A person, man or woman, would trek up to the moorland heights between 11pm and midnight whilst bearing a lighted candle. If the flame continued to burn steadily, it meant the carrier would remain free from witchcraft for the next 12 months. If the flame went out, the carrier would suffer a great evil in the following year. It must have been an absolutely terrifying experience.

However, much of the mischievous activity that used to occur during the modern Mischief Night has been transferred to Halloween in the form of Trick or Treat. It is now the custom (certainly in the area where I live) for children to tour the houses wearing witches’ masks and pointed hats whilst carrying pumpkin lanterns. They knock on the door and when the householder responds, the children ask ‘Trick or Treat?’ If you give them a treat in the form of sweets, money or some other gift, they will retreat, but if you say "Trick" you are inviting them to carry out some form of prank. In our village, most groups of children going about this exercise are accompanied by adults which is a good idea. But all that should have happened at the recent Halloween. So what can we expect from tonight?

And does Mischief Night still exist in parts of this region?

IHAVE received a surprisingly large amount of correspondence following my notes about Norfolk, its marshlands and its remarkable wild life (D&S Times Oct.14). Invariably, my correspondents have visited or even lived in that area and all praise its natural beauty and relaxed way of life. Some have become regular visitors, generally having a particular reason for visiting such as its astonishing bird life on the marshlands or to make a pilgrimage to Walsingham.

However, an 80-year-old gentleman from Guisborough paints a completely different and very humorous picture of one of the features on the north Norfolk coast.

In August 1969, he and a friend went on a golfing holiday in Lincolnshire and Norfolk and played on courses at Woodhall Spa, Sheringham and Hunstanton before finding themselves in Brancaster, close to where we stayed. Without any advance bookings, they discovered Brancaster Golf Club.

On arriving at the clubhouse, they saw a large notice warning players of the time of each tide. Apparently when the tide came in, half the course was covered by the sea and so, to avoid being marooned, it was vital that the players took account of the tidal movements.

Another problem was that half the bunkers were likely to be washed away by the rising tide, and so each was reinforced with a pile of railway sleepers. My correspondent tells me he has never felt so intimidated as he did when trying to play out of those bunkers. He discovered the best way was to play out sideways because if you played forward, there was a danger the ball would ricochet from the sleepers to give you a nasty headache or worse.

However, the pair eventually found themselves in the clubhouse which he describes as the grottiest he has ever visited. It had concrete floors covered with the tattiest of coconut matting whilst the furniture was so rickety it wouldn’t have sold at a jumble sale.

But there was another surprise.

When our heroes looked at the plaques on the clubhouse walls, they saw they provided the names of past club captains. They were members of the royal family going back many years. This can be explained because Sandringham is nearby but my correspondent wonders why some member of the royal family had never donated their surplus furniture to that club.

I thank my correspondent for his letter and wish him well as he recovers from a triple heart bypass.

APROPOS my notes about the lack of wasps (D&S Times, Oct 14), a reader from Pilmoor reports her husband trapped more than 7,000 in their garden, probably from two nests underground.

He calculated their quantity by weighing them.

Finally, a reader has asked if rosehips are still being collected to make the famous syrup. She recalls picking them as a child and being paid 9d per pound (I was paid 3d!), and adds she recently saw rosehip syrup in a Northallerton shop.

Clearly it is still manufactured so who picks the hips?

nicholasrhea.co.uk