Ring out the old, ring in the new
Let the wind blow high,
Let the wind blow low,
Doon the street in ma kilt I go,
The lassies they all call 'Heigh-ho,
Donald whaur's yer troosers …'
HEY, Hogmanay tomorrow. They'll be raving it up at Ballito and in various spots across Durban. From the yacht clubs they'll discharge flares that have passed their date of use.
In the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties they'll be re-enacting The Ball of Kirriemuir, also written by the immortal Robbie Burns who brought us Auld Lang Syne.
Missus MacGinty, she was there,
She had them all in fits,
By diving off the mantlepiece
And bouncing …
Okay, enough of that - you get the picture.
In London they'll be surging about Trafalgar Square. In New York the action will be in Times Square, the punters waiting for the ball of light to drop, signifying midnight.
In Sydney, Australia, the harbour will be alive with fireworks. The same in towns and cities all over the world.
Yet it's the Scots who have made Hogmanay/New Year somehow their own. All over the world, folk link crossed arms and sing Auld Lang Syne.
In Scotland itself they go first footin' after midnight with gifts of salt, coal, shortbread, whisky and black bun.
At a place called Stonehaven they go about swinging fireballs made of chicken wire containing rags, sticks and other flammable material. These fireballs they swing about their heads on a length of chain or wire as the Old Town House bell rings in the New Year and they march toward the habour. Then they throw the fireballs into the water.
It's pretty spectacular and attracts a lot of onlookers but emulation is not recommended for the Durban beachfront, where the metro cops take a dim view of such activity.
In parts of the Highlands they celebrate Hogmanay with saining – a blessing of the household and livestock.
Early on New Year's morning, householders drink and then sprinkle 'magic water' from a nearby ford in every room, on the beds and on all the inhabitants.
The house is sealed up tight and branches of juniper are set on fire and carried throughout the house and byre. The juniper smoke is allowed to thoroughly fumigate the buildings until it causes sneezing and coughing.
Then all the doors and windows are flung open to let in the cold, fresh air of the new year. Then they break out the whisky and sit down to breakfast.
This sounds a barrel of fun but I think I'll stick to the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties.
Why are people so eager to say goodbye to 2016 and ring in the new? I suppose you can take your pick. Springbok rugby, Donald Trump, Brexit, the Guptas … the depressing list runs on and on. Surely 2017 has just got to be better.
Happy New Year!
And there's a hand, my trusty fiere!
And gie's a hand o' thine!
And we'll tak' a right gude-willie waught,
For auld lang syne.
Great card
WHAT would the festive season be without a Christmas card from Durban artist Joyce Steadman, illustrated by a painting she did of people skating on a frozen pond outside Oxford, in England.
Joyce, who is aged 196 – er, I beg your pardon, is aged 96 – says her painting days are over as her fingers have become clumsy.
But she manages, all the same, to paste to the inside of the card a blow-up of the logo on the Idler's column, very artily enhanced.
Thank you, Joyce, I am most touched.
Good sequence
A ZULULANDER named Taffy reports his amusement at a recent episode of The Chaser on TV 123, where the contestant were three men and one woman.Their names were Thomas, Richard, Anita and Harold.
"The Chaser noted their names and as usual shortened them. He came up with the delightful sequence of Tom, Dick Anne Harry."
Tailpiece
IT'S NEW Year's Eve in the Street Shelter for the Over Forties. As midnight approaches, the manageress announces that as the clock strikes she wants every married man to be standing close to the person who has made his life worth living. As the clock strikes, the bartender is almost killed in the crush.
Last word
Ring out the false, ring in the true. - Alfred Lord Tennyson
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