Blithe Spirit

Posted on April 6, 2025 | 2 comments

 A dinner, a relationship on the rocks, a séance gone awry, what could possibly go wrong?
Answer – everything.

With a friend, I have just returned from seeing Noel Coward’s Blithe Spirit.  We are told the play was written in 1941 during those dark days in London during the Blitz, and it was written in seven days. The play was staged in a bijoux theatre on the waterfront.  A glass of wine in the restaurant and then on to the play.

The play is outdated, being set in the the1930s when homosexuality was a criminal offence, and mediums were centre stage invited to many dinners by the upper classes to add a little frisson to the party. The fact that Coward was a homosexual seems to have been recognised but conveniently forgotten by the powers that be.

It’s set in the drawing room of the house in Kent owned by socialite novelist Charles Condonine and his partner, Rudi.  Charles invites Madam Arcati, an Eccentric medium, to be the guest of honour at a dinner party. It transpires that the reason for the invitation is that with writers’ block on his new novel, Charles is looking for some help in writing about a murderous medium.

But the seance turns to farce, being chaotic and ending in the spirit of Charles’ first wife, Elvira, who disrupts his relationship with Rudi. The play left the audience laughing and clapping, and the very few characters smiling and acknowledging the applause for a well written play, well produced.

And now I must admit that I love Noel Coward.  He was born in the south London borough of Teddington.  Money was always scarce, and he started to work on the stage at the age of 12 to help his family. By 1929, Coward was one of the world’s highest-earning writers, with an annual income of £50,000, more than £3 million in terms of 2020 values.

I have a couple of biographies and know the words to most of the songs he wrote.  Another great favourite is “I’ve been to a marvellous party”, but that has to wait for another day.

“Entering a white tie and tails party wearing an ordinary suit, he announced,
“Please, I don’t want anyone to apologise for overdressing.”
Noel Coward

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Memories from 50 years ago

Posted on April 5, 2025 | 9 comments

I had a fun couple of hours reading the copies of mail I wrote 50 years ago. I thought I would share with you another one that talks about the hectic life we lived for a while. This is from Wellington, February 16th, 1972, sent to my parents.

“Firstly, Happy Anniversary! You will have received the cable on time, I hope. Are you both well? We all are.
The children started school on Monday and have settled in very well, although David has decided that it is not as ‘neat’ a school as St. Kentigern’s; but he thinks he will quite like it. Carolyn, of course, would “get on with the devil himself” (do you remember that saying of yours mum?] So she is as happy as a lark. They are both, so far, finding they have covered the work that the other kids have, and so are having no difficulty fitting in with the classes.

A piece of good news – we can get into our new house on March 6th instead of the 17th, so life will perhaps get back to normal again.

Mum, we went on our last night In Auckland to see Fiddler on the Roof. What a fabulous film, but in places, it is terribly sad. I’ve tried to get a recording of the film track for you, but apparently, in Wellington, everybody had the same idea.  I’ll keep trying till I get you one.

Wellington is very different from Auckland. It is, of course, much smaller than any place we have lived in, only a quarter million people, and so, it’s rather like a big village. The streets are narrow and like an English Cathedral town. It’s built around the harbour, in a series of hills, so the views are spectacular. You can readily see how sailors curse this port. It is a horseshoe shape surrounded on all but the open end, by hills.

The apartment that we have is right on the harbour and early this morning, we watched a big Norwegian/American ship dock.  It’s called the Kungsholm now it is as near to where I am sitting as the flats are to you. I could hardly get the family to eat breakfast this morning: they were so excited. Bob says this is the most expensive cruise ship you can go on, so I guess we won’t be going out on her this trip.

The news about the coal miners’ strike is not too good. Are you all being affected even in the home?  We heard this morning that a million people have been made out of work because of this strike. Surely, the miners will lose all the support they ever had from the people if they go on this way.  You’d better get on the next plane and come here.

It’s certainly colder here than in Auckland. Yesterday was only 72 degrees here compared with Auckland’s 82°F, but we still don’t need any heating. I think it will be necessary in the winter because the wind evidently blows like crazy here.

I can hardly believe it is a month since we left London. Incredible! What have you been doing in the month? Life here has been rather hectic, but it’s slowing down again.  

This apartment we’re in doesn’t have an oven, Mum, so my brains are wondering what I can cook in an electric frying pan and two hot plates. Tonight, I’m trying to roast beef for the first time. I hope it is edible. We have run the gamut of ham steaks with pineapple, braised chops, casseroles, mince, stroganoff, and veal with pineapple, and now I know nothing else to cook. So, I’ll let you know how my roast turns out. I’m sure it’s possible, but there is no instruction booklet with this frypan, so I will just have to guess.

Have Laura and Tommy settled down again at school after the Christmas break? Christmas what an age away, that seems.

 I wore your sweater yesterday, and two people in the hotel remarked on the beautiful colour. Thank you.

This apartment is serviced and I am at a loss for what to do all day when the family are away, so this afternoon, I’m going to see if I can rent a sewing machine and make myself some clothes. Don’t know how they will turn out because I haven’t made anything since before we went to Canada. Better buy some material that won’t matter too much if it’s spoiled.

Well Darlings,  once again, goodbye. Look after yourselves until we meet again. Thank you so much for forwarding Bob’s driving licence Now he isn’t breaking the law each time he goes out in the car.

Everybody sends their love to you and to all the Kings. Please let Marianne read this letter because there is no other news. I’ll write again soon.”

“Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave,
and grow old wanting to get back to.”
John Ed Pearce

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More Magic

Posted on April 4, 2025 | 6 comments

“And above all, watch with glittering eyes
the whole world around you because the greatest secrets
are always hidden in the most unlikely places.
Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.” –
Roald Dahl.

Today, I received a long, chatty missive from a friend who is away until September. This made me think of Mar Oliver’s Pay Attention, Be Astonished and Tell About It. This she did with memories of her ‘gadding about’ here in New Zealand and then her flights to Heathrow and being met by her son-in-law and then on to  Swan Bottom, the little village where her daughter’s family lives.

I decided to respond with an account of the 12 days I have just spent in Raumati on the Kapiti Coast, about 60 km north of here. This friend also plays Mah Jong on Friday afternoons, so I added a couple of paragraphs. Here is what I wrote:

“Hello, Jennifer.  How lovely to hear from you! Meryn and I were talking about you at MJ this afternoon. She asked had I heard from you.  I replied that I would email you tomorrow.  But you beat me to it!
“We have a couple of new members at MJ. The one at our table had never played before, but she quickly got the hang of it. Meryn won three games, Mel one, and the best I could do was fish. I haven’t been there since March 14, so is that a reason or an excuse? 

“I have just had 12 days at my happy place, Daisydog sitting, while David and Rose were in Rarotonga.  A very elderly woman and a very elderly dog lived peacefully together.  She, Daisydog, doesn’t walk far these days, but she’s happy to go with me for a drive in the car. She has arthritis and needs help to get into the car. Quite a trial for this very elderly lady helping a large, heavy dog into the passenger seat. She gets out easily enough when we arrive at the beach, but no longer is she the happy dog running around the beach. A short walk is the best she can do.
Every day, the weather was perfect, so we sat outside and read, drank coffee, and burned our legs (through our pants) in the sunshine.  Most days, we didn’t stay out long, moving inside for the cool, comfort of the house. Note, I am employing the Royal We. 
Because the guest rooms are upstairs, they kindly vacated their room for me.  It is a lovely, restful room, perfect for putting up one’s feet for a brief afternoon nap. The door opens to the large deck and views of the garden. I didn’t go into the pool at all while I was there. In fact, I haven’t been in the pool for a couple of years.  And Daisydog would have been useless in an emergency.  More excuses!
Oh, and inside there are several reading nooks. The one in the photo is a particular favourite on a sunny afternoon.  Dappled sunlight enters the very large living/drawing from. Here is David’s happy place, surrounded by his music, some books and looked on by his favourite photo of his Dad. Should he want to, he can watch TV from here, but it is his reading corner..
I had lunch with Carol, my good friend, who drove up from Wellington to take me out for my birthday. Another friend, Sheryl, who lives in Waikanae, joined us. A generous friend is Carol, she bought us lunch and also gave me a present of a beautiful, coloured, glass bird.
I had to come back to town each Monday afternoon for my Young Writers’ Creative Writing Workshop but with Transmission Gully, to and from is no problem at all.
So, while my short break can in no way compare with your travels, I thought I would give you a brief update on life in sunny Raumati. BTW it poured overnight here, and it is still raining. The upside is I don’t have to water the garden.

So, once again, I followed Mary Oliver’s advice.

“I may not have gone where I intended to go,
but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.”
Douglas Adams.The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul

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Miracles

Posted on April 3, 2025 | 7 comments

“There are only two ways to live your life.
One is as though nothing is a miracle.
The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
 Albert Einstein

Miracles don’t have to be either earth-shattering or complex. Think of a group of children walking to school (that is a minor miracle because most children here are driven to school); anyway they chatter and laugh together. Race and religion don’t matter to them. They are having fun.

And thinking of miracles, I remembered a time ten years ago when the Architect was dying, and I spent each day in the hospital with him. One Saturday I wrote about minor miracles – unfortunately, the major miracle didn’t happen.

It was a Saturday, so time for Six Word Saturday, and this is what I wrote:

“JUST ANOTHER SATURDAY NIGHT – HOME ALONE

It’s a wet, blustery winter night in Wellington.  When I arrived home from the hospital, even though the heating was on and the house was warm, I lit the fire

Then I lit the candles. 

There, that’s so much better.“

And just like that, my misery was raised to a more acceptable level by a minor miracle.

“Miracles happen every day,
change your perception of what a miracle is,
and you’ll see them all around you.”
Jon Bon Jovi

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IN THE DARK AGES

Posted on April 2, 2025 | 5 comments

Mary Oliver said –
“Instructions for living a life.
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.

Long before most people had access to the internet, Messenger and texts, phone calls were very expensive, so we communicated by snail mail,  AKA The Post.
Very early in my married life, we moved around the country and then around the world.  My parents and one sister were in England; one sister was in California, and my DYS’ father and the aunts who had brought him up, lived in Scotland. Note DYS (Dashing Young Scotsman).
As was the norm 60-plus years ago, I didn’t work but stayed at home looking after my young family.  And every Wednesday, wherever we were in the world, I wrote letters telling my family and friends where we were and what we were doing. My DYS gave me a portable typewriter, and I typed the letters, making carbon copies to keep.
Here’s a quote from a letter dated November 27, 1969, addressed to my parents.
” We are all very well and experiencing our first winter in Montreal – and if this is a taste of what is to come, I’ll be catching a plane to New Zealand very shortly.  Nothing in Scotland has prepared us for this weather when the days are all around freezing point, seldom above and mostly below. It reached 26°F the other day. And this is only the beginning. People here describe this weather as mild.
“The children are settling into school, with Carolyn adjusting more easily than David. Each morning, they leave here dressed like little Eskimos. There is no lunch facility at school, so they have to come home.  It is only a 10-minute walk from the house to school, and driving them would take twice that time, not to mention the need to shovel the driveway.
“David is such a little boy, really a baby, and his suit zips from the left ankle to his right shoulder, which means he needs help. One day last week, I heard a ring at the front door, and when I opened it, I found David propped against the entry, frozen in his suit. He was very upset because a group of boys had made fun of his accent and rolled him in the snow. I had to put him in a warm bath to get him out of the snowsuit. I walked him back to school after lunch and accompanied him to and from school the next day. But then he decided he was a big boy and could go by himself.”
So, using Mary Oliver’s instructions, I paid attention, I was astonished, and I told about it.
That was then and this is now. I’m still paying attention, being astonished, and talking about it 
Maybe I will share parts of other letters here in the future.

“God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December.”
–J.M. Barrie

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Moving On

Posted on February 22, 2025 | 7 comments

After publishing Thursday’s post, Please Stop the World, I thought I would continue the theme

I have lost count of the number of houses in which my DYS (Dashing Young Scotsman) and I lived and the houses I have lived in since his death.

When we married, we were lucky to be offered a flat in a converted house.  We called it a semi-basement; those flats are now commonly referred to as Garden Flats and are in great demand. It had one bedroom with doors to the garden, a living room through which one could see the feet of passersby. and a small kitchen with a door to the garden.

It had a lavatory but no bathroom. My parents lived a couple of streets away, so each evening, we took ourselves there after dinner to have a bath. I can’t imagine my children ever doing that.

It was one of three apartments (flats) in a converted house. We had our own entry door, although the other two shared one. Having never been upstairs, I don’t know how they were configured or even if they were separated.

This was 1957, and London and its inhabitants were still reeling from the Second World War. Rental accommodation was almost impossible to find. We were lucky enough to grab this flat knowing somebody who was moving out, moving up.

My newly married sister and her husband moved in when we left after three years.

We made our first move from the garden flat in London to Scotland when my DYS was transferred to the head office of his firm in Glasgow. We were fortunate that his Father gave us 1650 GBP towards a house in a new development. That left us with a 1000 GBP mortgage, and I lost sleep nightly worrying about how we would pay that mortgage.

Our 6-week-old daughter was left with my mother in London for a few weeks. At the time, houses in Scotland were brick and had to dry out when first built. It would not be good to have a new baby in a damp house. Mother, of course, was delighted to be left in charge of this, her first grandchild.

The house, a semi-detached, backed onto a farm, and most afternoons found me walking the baby in her pram up the farm walk, and then two years later, walking two babies.

Life was very different for me. Firstly, I had of course, stopped working when I had the baby as was the norm at the time.  Not only was the situation of having all day to fill in so different, I was surprised at the friendliness of the neighbours. In London, we barely knew our neighbours and after living side-by-side for 40+ years, my mother and her neighbours still called each other Mrs.

But here I was in Scotland with a husband who worked all the hours God sent him, a very new baby, knowing nobody and having problems understanding what people were saying to me. However, I quickly made friends until a few years later, when we moved again.

‘If we were meant to stay in one place, we’d have roots instead of feet.’ –
Rachel Wolchin, American author

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Please, Stop the World.

Posted on February 20, 2025 | 7 comments

“Resilience is knowing that you are the only one
that has the power and the responsibility to pick yourself up.”
Mary Holloway, Speaker, Writer, Resilience Coach

Do you follow Cecilia at The Kitchens Garden? She is a New Zealander living in Illinois on her big, organic, sustainable farm. She grows most of what they eat. She has many animals and those that are named we consider friends. She has a large and widespread following.

She has children and grandchildren scattered around the world and is currently in NZ on her way to Melbourne for an extended visit. She is busy from dawn to dusk and always has something interesting to share.

Yesterday, I read her post “When the inner ear closes” and it took me back 40-plus years to when I had a similar experience but I named it Stop the World. Click here to read Celi’s post.

We had recently moved from Wellington to the Marlborough Sounds in the South Island. We bought a house in a small bay where there were only four houses, two of which were permanent residences. We had views from every room down the Sound and we thought (once again) we were settled for the rest of our lives.

Willow Bay
Willow Bay

Picture this, a city girl/woman who agreed to live in the country with the nearest town 60 km away – no shops, no friends, no family and no phone.

An important thing to note is that, unfortunately, the previous owner cancelled the phone line when he moved on. At the time all telephone services in New Zealand were run by a Government Department, Telecom(?).  To get a new connection in the city took about 7 days if you were lucky.  To get a new connection in a rural area took forever and ever. So, we moved to Paradise.  And applied for a phone to be told there was a long waiting list and we had to be patient. 

Bear in mind that we lived some 60 km from any town and the last 5 km of the road was unpaved.  I had never lived anywhere where there weren’t shops and buses and people.  It was quite a revelation to me.

Anyway, back to the telephone.  We managed with difficulty.  Remember this is 1984 – few cell phones and very few people had access to the internet.  No phone, no internet, no communication with the outside world.  Very peaceful but frustrating.

One of our neighbours offered the use of their phone if we needed it.

One Sunday while my DYS (Dashing Young Scotsman) was away further south playing lawn bowls I was applying paint over the awful wallpaper in the master bedroom.  I was surprised when he walked in as I wasn’t expecting him until the next day.  He looked grey and was quite unwell.   I ran to my neighbour’s and used their phone to call a doctor.  He told me to bring him in immediately, and he had to give me instructions as I didn’t know Blenheim, the town in which he was located

After driving the 60 km with my husband groaning at each bump and turn in the road,  we arrived at the doctor’s house.  He took DYS inside and left me sitting in the car.  The doctor had said he thought it was not serious and gave him a couple of pessaries. So we went home but in a very short time, he was writhing in agony.  So another call from the neighbour’s house and I was told to bring him into the surgery.  More instructions needed.  Well, to cut this long story short, the doctor took one look and declared “This man should be in hospital”.

So, with more instructions, we went to the hospital. They admitted him immediately, but as the only ward open to admittance on this Sunday was the Children’s Ward, that’s where he went. The surgeon was called, and he later told me he was grateful to be called out, as his wife had been entertaining a rather boring group of people.

By this time, it was around midnight at the end of a busy and tiring day.

I was offered a bed in the nurses’ home but had to return to Willow Bay as my spaniel had been left there.  On the way home I found a telephone box (yes they were still available then) and called my son in Wellington who agreed to get the first plane in the morning to be with me.  He also agreed to call his sister who was in London and tell her.

Then I drove home. My Washing Basket/Stop the World moment was when I got home. I turned off the car lights. No lights anywhere, no moon or stars, only blackness and as we had only just moved in lights hadn’t yet been installed in the driveway. I sat and put my head in my hands while the worry built up and the tiredness overtook me. Tears flowed freely. How could I cope in this alien environment on my own, and more to the point how could I see to get from the car to the house. The tears stopped, commonsense returned and I turned on the car lights. Tomorrow was another day, my son would be here with me, and together we would deal with whatever the outcome of the surgeon’s investigations was.

Don’t wait for a light to appear at the end of the tunnel,
stride down there… and switch the bloody thing on yourself.!
All the strength you need to achieve anything is within you.
Sarah Henderson Australian author of The Strength in us all

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Hearing aids, spectacles, and walking sticks

Posted on February 19, 2025 | 15 comments

Three things that tell me I am old.

We’ve just had two of the four Grandsons home for a visit. Their father was married again on Saturday, so one came from Sydney, Australia and one from Vancouver, Canada, to celebrate with him.

When the boys were small, they all knew there were two three-letter words that were never to be used around Granma – Old and Age.  They would call out anyone who mistakenly used one of the words. A case in point. Many years ago I fell over, and the paramedics asked how old I was. Before I could answer, grandson No 2 said “We don’t say that to Granma.”  Somewhat nonplussed, he then asked the boy “If I can’t ask Grandma, can you tell me?” My grandson, who was about nine years old, responded, “SSe’s 29 plus GST” (Goods and Services Tax).  After laughing loudly, the paramedic asked if he could use the phrase. The grandson agreed and I answered the question.

They used to tell me that I wasn’t a real grandmother as their friends’ grannies baked cakes and knitted while I had a hard hat and went on building sites.

But now at 86,  I can no longer ignore those words. The daily use of the age-related accoutrements reminds me I am old, but not to my grandsons, and they still don’t use those words around me.

Grandson No 3 told us how his friend in Vancouver was so impressed when he showed a photo I’d sent via messenger.  Apparently, that young man’s grandmother doesn’t do that – he thinks she doesn’t know how to.

They are both thriving in their chosen place to live, two big strong young men of whom I am very proud. I am delighted when they are here, that they make time to “hang out with Granma” their words).

Grandson No 4 will be here again in two weeks, to attend a friend’s wedding.  Grandson No 3 will be here at the end of the year to spend time with us over Christmas. There’s no bias on the part of this Granma when I say they are handsome young men making their way in this troubled world, and considering others as well as themselves.  I am sure in hands such as these our world will survive, perhaps not as we have known it but it will survive.

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Just Another Day in Paradise

Posted on January 19, 2025 | 5 comments

After weeks of dreary weather when we thought summer had forgotten us, this week has been perfect. Day after day, golden days—paradise, indeed.

But during those dreary days, I caught up with friends by email, phone calls and some in person. But I was conscious that those intentions I had logged at the beginning of the month were already fading away as they did each year. Good job they were intentions, not resolutions!

One of the intentions was to write my blogposts if not daily (though that was the initial premise) at least regularly. So with that thought firmly in place I wrote this:

I have had several jobs since I gave my property management company to my daughter and decided to retire. But  of course that was never going to happen and over the next few years I had several jobs including assisting an interior decorator, doing the backup Services for my real estate agent friend, Continuing volunteering for the local Hospice which has been an ongoing thing since the 80s but the best job I ever had was during the years I acted as the Wedding Coordinator at an historic church in Wellington

New Zealand is a very young country, so historic in this instance is only some 150 years.  However, I enjoyed my time there and loved being involved with so many brides and grooms.  Each year we had around 90 weddings, so I had plenty of people with whom to interact.

I thought I would share some of my wedding memories with you.

*****

I dreamed of a wedding of elaborate elegance,
A church filled with family and friends.
I asked him what kind of a wedding he wished for,
He said one that would make me his wife.
~Author Unknown

This is my absolute favourite quote on weddings.  Over the four years that I acted as Wedding Coordinator at Old St Paul’s, I heard many, many verses and sayings about weddings and ceremonies; this is the one that has stayed with me.

During that time, I  attended and coordinated more than 340  weddings.  We had weddings conducted in English (of course) Maori, German, Russian, Dutch, French and Italian.  In each instance, part of the service had been in English and so has been relatively easy to follow.

On January 24, 2009, we had a beautiful Chinese wedding.

Chinese Wedding Program

The bride duly arrived to the peal of bells. A fitting start to this lovely ceremony. She was a perfect picture so tiny and delicate in her beautiful white wedding gown.  The bridesmaids complimented her so well in their deep pink gowns.  Bride and bridesmaids each carried a bouquet of summer flowers.  What a great picture.

The groom and his groomsmen were also a joy to behold.  All had on dark suits with white shirts and a pink flower in the lapel.  Very smart and didn’t they all look so good, standing awaiting the arrival of the bride.

The Priest was resplendent in his white robes with a rich red sash.

At the wedding rehearsal, there had been a lot of talk in Cantonese/Mandarin but never was there a suggestion the whole ceremony would be conducted in other than the English language.

The bride told me she was ready, so I had the bell ringers stop playing and the organist begin playing the processional for the entry of the bridesmaids followed by the bride.

But before the bridesmaids entered, the MC said a ‘few’ words in Cantonese or Mandarin and then indicated to me to start the ceremony.

The bridesmaids entered on my cue and each walked slowly down the aisle to their designated place.  Then, when all three were in place, I brought in the bride.  She was radiant but a little tearful.

The bride and her father walked slowly down the 34-meter aisle – the train of her dress following behind and showing off its snowy white perfection against the deep ruby red of the carpet.

The father handed the bride to the groom, the chief bridesmaid fluffed the train, the father took his seat and the ceremony commenced.

I can only assume that the priest welcomed the couple and guests with a speech in Chinese.  Then the ceremony took its usual course.  But all in Chinese so I didn’t understand one word of it.  The affirmation and vows; the introduction of the candle ceremony and its significance, the homily from the priest; two Anglican hymns were sung, and all in Chinese.  I joined in the hymns, singing in English of course.  The hymns were “Joyful, Joyful” and  “To God Be the Glory”. Beautiful music and great words.

The Director of Music was a bit confused as he had to play music for the candle ceremony and signing of the register and he couldn’t see around the organ up to the altar.  Usually, he gets his cue from the words of the priest or celebrant.  This time he had to rely on my signals from the back of the church.  A bit like the blind leading the blind.

Just as I was getting ready to cue the organist, a man stood and proceeded to address the bride and groom and the assembled guests.  Obviously, once again, I had no idea what was being said.  Then he waved to me that the recessional could begin.

Then the service was over.  The bride and groom started to walk back down the aisle, and stopped and hugged parents and friends on the way.  The bells started to ring as they left the church.

All in all a great ceremony and full of emotion and feeling, even though I didn’t understand a word.

Following the ceremony, the bride’s mother was in tears so I handed her a tissue from the box kept always at the back of the church.  That seemed to set off a chain reaction as so many of the other women then took a tissue.

Photographs were taken in the church grounds.  Congratulations from me to the happy couple and hugs from the happy couple to me.

A fabulous summer morning wedding.

Love is a symbol of eternity. 
It wipes out all sense of time, destroying all memory of a beginning
and all fear of an end.  ~Author Unknown

 

That was 16 years ago but it’s still so very fresh in my mind. And as they go to their anniversary in a few days, I wish them all I wished on that special day and hope their dreams have come true.

Note: After publishing this post I found that I had posted on this wedding two years ago. Apologies to those of you who have read it before. Hopefully, it will be new to some readers.

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A Guid New Year to You All!

Posted on January 4, 2025 | 12 comments

The best thing one can do when it’s raining
is to let it rain.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


Yesterday with nothing planned and the rain falling down again, I thought about some of the traditions associated with the New Year.

New Year, or Hogmanay, is celebrated in Scotland with much more enthusiasm than Christmas.  This worked to our advantage when we (a) lived in the UK and (b) went home from New Zealand during our summer holidays.  Note: I refer to England as home when in NZ, and NZ as home when in England. Anyway, unlike many of my friends, we didn’t have decisions to make on where to have Christmas. We could spend Christmas with my family and New Year with my Dashing Young Scotsman’s family.  Perfect!

Did you know that Christmas was not celebrated in Scotland from the end of the 17th century until the 1950s?  My husband had never celebrated Christmas until we met.

The church banned the celebration labelling it Popish or a Catholic feast.  When I first went to Scotland in about 1957 Christmas Day was considered just another working day.  Their winter solstice holiday was New Year when family and friends gathered for a party and to exchange presents.

All Scottish housewives cleaned the house from top to bottom on December 31st (including taking out the ashes from the fire in the days when coal fires were common, as they were still when we lived there).  It was also important to clear all your debts before “the bells” at midnight.   I wonder if these superstitions/traditions are still carried on today.

One of the traditions that still exists is that of First Footing.  A dark stranger has to be the first over the doorstep into the house on January 1 to ensure good luck to the inhabitants for the coming year.  The church bells toll, and then First Footing begins.  The dark stranger traditionally arrives with whisky, shortbread and oatcakes.  And when we lived there, they also brought coal for the fire and black bun, a traditional fruit cake covered in pastry.  Sounds strange but it tastes good.

Black Bun
image via Wikipedia

If you are interested and would like to try it – here’s a recipe.

And immediately after midnight, it is traditional to sing Robert Burns’ “For Auld Lang Syne”.  Burns published this in 1788 and claimed it was based on an earlier fragment of poetry.  The tune was apparently in print over 80 years before he published his version in 1788.

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot and auld lang syne
For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne,
We’ll take a cup o kindness yet, for auld lang syne.”

We all sing this song at New Year but what do the words mean?  I was informed many years ago by my Scottish in-laws that auld lang syne meant time gone by.  Auld of course is old.  So try to make some sense of those words if you can.

Whisky and shortbread
Whisky, shortbread and oatcakes for First Footing

The tradition of open house carries on for several days and friends and strangers are welcomed with warm hospitality and a kiss to wish everyone a “Guid New Year”. The underlying belief is to clear out the vestiges of the old year, have a clean break and welcome in a young New Year on a happy note.

No one ever regarded the First of January with indifference.
It is that from which all date their time, and count upon what is left.
It is the nativity of our common Adam.  ~Charles Lamb

And as someone said – “So there you have it”. And “A Guid New Year to ane an’ a’ and mony may ye see!” A good New Year to one and all, and many may you see! Also, “Lang may yer lum reek!” a common Hogmanay toast, that means “long may your chimney smoke.” May you have enough coal to keep warm this winter!

Just more useless things jangling around in this ancient mind.

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