Whoosh! Did you see it?
In case you blinked, that was 2015. Did you enjoy it? Me? I think it was OK; I mean, I’m not really sure; it’s all a bit of a blur.
It’s only in late December, when we in the newsroom pore over the previous 12 months to compile the “year in review” that I realize how much has gone before.
Mega homes and the lack of English on signs dominated the news, as usual, but, save for a little progress on both counts, that could be any year in Richmond.
But, really, has it been 11 months since Target waved the white flag? And was that cuddle party eight months ago? I still shiver as if that were yesterday.
Here we are, however, about to tackle another 366 days (2016 is a Leap Year), but my focus is stalling on the 365th day of 2015.
Why? In my native Scotland, the last day of the year, “Hogmanay,” as we call it, rivals, if not surpasses, Christmas in anticipation.
It’s an evening, vacuum-packed with excitement, usually fuelled by a beverage or three, which creates an almost tangible buzz.
House parties, pub crawls and ceilidhs (garden variety: community hall, bagpipes, accordion, tartan, kilts, whisky, highland dancing, you get the picture) are aplenty.
The former festivity takes me way back to childhood, when my parents’ friends and neighbours used to turn up en masse at our door with their “carry-oots” (liquor take-out) full of booze and the party could really start.
My hazy memory is of Scotch & Wry (Scots comedy skit) on the TV, my mum drinking some awful “snowballs” — a mixture of custard-coloured Dutch eggnog, called Advocaat, and lemonade — and myself and my little brother sneaking some Babycham (sweet sparkling wine) up to our bedroom.
As the clock edged towards “the bells” at midnight, though, the fun really kicked in with tradition.
With about a minute or so to go, someone in the room is “elected” to get punted outside the front door to be the “first foot.”
Historically, this poor sod is supposed to be “tall, dark and handsome,” but with such a creature often in short supply at many house parties in Scotland, anyone will do really.
And so, as midnight strikes, everyone charges their glasses, cheers, kisses etc. and, hopefully, someone will remember the frozen soul previously banished from the home.
It’s only then that he, or she, is royally welcomed with a wee dram (whisky) over the threshold as the first person to set foot in your abode for that year; hence “first foot.”
I hope your first step into 2016 takes you all on a path to health and prosperity.
Cheers!
Alan Campbell is a reporter with the Richmond News. You can reach him at [email protected]
