New Year’s Eve is kind of awful if you ask me. I’ve never been sure what you’re supposed to do, or how you’re supposed to feel. Thousands of people line up on the embankment and cheer the year in, watching fireworks and drone displays and all the rest of it, but still also knowing deep-down (I mean surely they know) that the coming year will at best be a mixed bag. What are you all so happy about?
Plus they’ve then got to get home on the tube, which is a nightmare at the best of times, let alone a cold January after-party morning. It’s never been for me, that.
For some reason though, today I was thinking about Edinburgh. Lovely Edinburgh. I’ve been there three times - it’s never let me down. And it feels like it should be the place for New Year’s, with all its bagpipery and whiskiness and castle and mountains of cool air and dark granite. If you’re going to sing Auld Lang Syne anywhere, it ought to be there surely?
Well no. It’s probably as crowded as anywhere else. And also, this year, it’s off, due to the terrible stormy weather that’s due to sweep the country tomorrow night. So no Edinburgh, even if we wanted to go all that way.
Which we don’t.
We’re staying in. I’d quite like to read a book, sip a hot chocolate, and look up as the clock ticks towards midnight. Then we’d wish each other a Happy New Year and go to bed. No fuss. No big deal. Wake up. 2025.
That seems to me the only sensible way to welcome what will inevitably be a year of great highs and lows - good old indifference. A lovely bit of meh as the fireworks go off down the street.
Mind you if it’s chucking it down and there are 70mph winds, it’s quite possible that weather will stop all that, like it might in Edinburgh. Fair enough. It’ll be cosy round here though I think.
No comments:
Post a Comment