View from here Susy Smith
celebrates the world’s wackiest New Year traditions – and reveals how one has inspired her to take new adventures in 2022
I begin this month with a question: have any of you ever celebrated the New Year in South America, most specifically Colombia? If so, perhaps you would be good enough to let me know if what they say is true: to mark the turn of the year, the locals carry an empty suitcase around with them, signifying, apparently, that they will have 12 months of adventure ahead?
Slightly weird? No more so than the many quirky customs that take place elsewhere in the world. In Denmark, they smash old plates and glasses on each other’s doorsteps to banish bad spirits (I just take mine to the charity shop). In Greece, it’s traditional to hang onions at the front door as a symbol of rebirth. The Spanish eat 12 grapes – one at each stroke of the clock at midnight – to represent good luck for each month of the coming year. And in Brazil, lentils – symbolising good fortune – are the favoured dish. Curious…
Mind you, these are no more eccentric than the practice we’ve adopted from the Scots, of welcoming a dark-haired man carrying a lump of coal across the threshold as the clock strikes midnight. (The dark hair is important because, after the Viking invasions, a fair-haired man was unlikely to be welcome!) In truth, with Hogmanay and its origins stretching back to the celebration of the winter solstice, the Scots really own the New Year in Britain. And this is fair enough, given that, after The Reformation in the late 1500s, they didn’t have much else to celebrate when the Protestant Kirk banned any kind of merrymaking at Christmas.
No wonder the Scots take their New Year traditions so seriously. Aside from the token piece of coal to wish warmth for the coming year, first-footers also carry black bun (a type of fruit cake) and sometimes shortbread, representing food and prosperity. Last but not least, they bring whisky (of course) to toast the occasion. Then there’s the singing: no New Year’s Eve is complete without a rousing rendition of Auld Lang Syne. Surprisingly, the song can be heard across the globe in many places far beyond the shores of The Auld Country. In fact, according to the Guinness
World Records, Auld Lang Syne is one of the most popular songs sung in English, after Happy Birthday to You and For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.
Growing up in Belfast, my childhood memories of New Year’s Eve are of the whole family gathering round the black and white television to tune in to The White Heather Club. I loved the swirling kilts and the ladies in their fancy dresses and net petticoats as they skipped gaily around the room to jaunty music played by a bank of smiling accordionists. I’d try to sing along with cheery chappie Andy Stewart, as he worked his way through a repertoire of Scottish ballads, but end up completely bamboozled by the indecipherable lyrics. As an adult, some of the best festive evenings I can remember have involved dancing Strip the Willow or the Dashing White Sergeant to the fast and furious fiddle music at a proper Scottish cèilidh.
Mostly, on New Year’s Eve, I expect a party and, perhaps, some fireworks. The latter probably have their roots in the ancient traditions of fire worship. In Allendale in Northumbria, the residents have been celebrating the atmospheric Tar Bar’l Festival on 31 December for more than 160 years. A procession of costumed barrel carriers, known as ‘guisers’ (because they are in disguise), parade flaming, tar-filled, whisky barrels through the streets to the centre of town where they are thrown onto a bonfire with the cry of “Be damned to he who throws last”. New Year’s Eve Fire Festivals also take place in the appropriately named Flamborough, in Yorkshire, and several Scottish locations, including Stonehaven in Aberdeenshire. The Welsh, on the other hand, enjoy an altogether more harmonious tradition, when a group of singers parade the Mari Lwyd
– a mare’s skull dressed in a sheet and ribbons – from house to house to try to gain entry by singing Welsh songs.
Ultimately, the theme of all these celebrations is to see out the old year and welcome in the new. It’s a chance to wipe the slate clean and begin again. But that creates its own pressure, as we try to think of self-improving resolutions for the coming 12 months. I find, as I get older, that I’m running out of ideas. And, realistically, will I stick to them anyway? So, for 2022, my resolution is not to make any resolutions. There again, on second thoughts, having been virtually housebound for the past 18 months, I vow to have more adventures. Now where’s that empty suitcase…? NEXT MONTH Susy Smith ponders why her best-laid plans in the garden so often go awry…meanwhile, you can follow her on Instagram @susysmithmacleod.