Daughter of Claus: Day XXXI
A cup o' kindness
On the jukebox: Auld Lang Syne by Mairi Campbell
I remember one year, in Orkney, being fascinated and amused by what I remember as our first first footers. At that point we lived in Stenness, on the Mainland, and you had to be committed to first footing to include our house in your itinerary (as, indeed, you had to be to include most of the houses in the parish). Nevertheless, this one Hogmanay (or, presumably, the first early hours of the fresh new year), I remember a collection of people calling by. I don’t remember how many (perhaps about four?), but I do remember that being the first time I had seen really drunk people, and I remember Mum having to clean the toilet and the bathroom floor immediately after they had left, given one of the gentlemen’s aim had been less than precise. I thought all this was fascinating and utterly hilarious.
Fast forward a good few years, and I remember two very different, equally amusing, Hogmanay evenings at the house my friend and I shared in Edinburgh. One was a party we hosted, with friends visiting from up and down the country. We visited the Calton Hill fireworks with hot chocolate and a bottle of brandy at midnight, there was an impromptu game of Blind Date, and I couldn’t believe that a friend of a friend used my Bunnahabhain for his whisky and coke (you never sully a single malt with coke, in my opinion - if that’s your tipple, just own it and bring some blended stuff). Some friends were staying over, and I can’t remember what time in the early hours we all eventually called it a night.
The other Edinburgh Hogmanay I remember in particular was an impromptu gathering after storms affected some friends’ travel plans, so they called off en route to their home in the Highlands. Another friend made it over from Stirling, and we all decided to hit a couple of pubs on the Mile. What had been intended as a quiet(er) night in ended up being one of those delightfully random events filled with good-natured daftness.
There have been other notable Hogmanay celebrations: an evening at Luton Hoo; going to bed early whilst heavily pregnant with Auri, and being woken at midnight to mark the new year by Euan and our friends who were visiting; quieter evenings, spent snuggled up on the settee and barely making it to midnight. I take marking Hogmanay very seriously, whatever our plans, whether high profile or low. This year, we’re having a buffet style meal and drinks here in the village in Cumbria, with a visit to the local pub for some of the grown-ups while the four young cousins wreck havoc in a mostly-supervised way back at the house (though, as I type, heavily laden with sore throat and cough, and absolutely no voice, I’m not sure how much of this I will manage).
As I have said, I appreciate the neatness of the calendar year, and all the opportunities for new beginnings that offers. I also feel it is important to mark the passing of each old year, to raise a toast (whatever your tipple) in thanks, and in reflection. I will certainly be doing that tonight, even if one or more hot toddies feature than originally anticipated.
Wishing you and yours a merry Hogmanay, and a 2024 packed with all good things!
I would love to hear about your own Christmas folklore and memories. How do you like to mark the passing of the old year, and the start of the new?