It seems everybody wants to know the same thing today - did I stay up to bid goodbye and good riddance to 2020 and to welcome in the New Year? To which I can only reply: “Well, yes and no...”
I shall let you be the judge. I had gone to bed later than intended, having been watching (at my Little Sister’s suggestion) a series called “Bridgerton”. Think
Jane Austen with sex and corsets. Nevertheless, despite being persuaded (by the credits advertising that the next episode would start in five seconds - I am so easily persuaded) to watch an extra helping, I was definitely in bed and drifting into sleep well
Except that I was suddenly awake to the sound of Big Ben emanating from my bedside radio, tolling in 2021. Boing x 12. Followed by many bangs,
fizzes and swooshes from outside as fireworks a-plenty were let off in celebration of (hopefully) a better, brighter year ahead. I didn’t actually leap out of bed to pull the curtains aside and enjoy the show - but then (i) I have a vivid imagination
and (ii) I was already drifting off to sleep again. So there you are: did I “see” the New Year in or did I simply hear it?
Earlier in the evening I
sat in on a New a Year’s Eve dinner with the Youngest of the Darling Daughters and her family, where we were also joined by the Eldest Darling Daughter. Everyone seemed to be quaffing something sparkling from rather special champagne flutes. My own glass,
which was of humbler stock, was almost empty. With no more bottles of wine in the rack, I was set to be a great disappointment until I remembered the little bottle of blood orange gin in my Christmas stocking, enabling me to restore my credibility with the
Incidentally, both these daughters, along with other families of my acquaintance with children of a similar age, have commented how special it was to have
a Family New Year’s Eve In - in previous (and probably) future years, the young’uns would have been out celebrating with friends rather than with family. One unexpected advantage, at least, of living in
James, the Middle of the (Not So Very Little) Welsh Boys came through on FaceTime to say hello. Would he be singing Auld Lang Syne, I asked him. James
looked doubtful so I sang the chorus to him at which he looked even more doubtful and said he didn’t know that song. Or, at least he was too polite to say, not the way I sang it. The family were about to embark on a game of Bingo which I was welcome
to join but I thought I might leave them to it, on the basis that I desperately needed to finish my jigsaw puzzle before the end of the year.
I did miss
the singing of Auld Lang Syne, remembering old acquaintances ne’er forgot and all that - but today that omission was remedied when our Singing for Pleasure choir assembled via Zoom for our first singalong of 2021. We started off with ABBA’s Thank
You For The Music, to mark the fact that music has kept us connected all through these dark days since our last proper meeting way back in March. To finish - Auld Lang Syne, with Roland singing all the verses solo (did we even know there were so many verses?)
and all of us joining in the choruses.
Best of all, we all instinctively crossed our arms in accordance with best Auld Lang Syne traditions, reaching out and moving
our arms up and down in time with the music. I kid you not, it was just like holding hands across the divide. It was both totally hilarious and strangely moving.
Old Times’ Sake.