Although we had done the Newcastle run the week before Christmas, we decided last minute to visit again for New Year to keep Mum company. There were plenty of people to look after her over the Christmas weekend and she was in good spirits on account of her grandson’s first birthday on Christmas Day. But as New Year was always a happy time for Mum and Dad, parties and family get-togethers were part of their shared life for 50 years, I didn’t want her to have a sad New Year’s Eve. With this in mind, on Saturday morning we drove up a reasonably quiet A1 with a cool box full of Tesco Finest canapes, beer, Cava and a big vat of chilli.
My Auntie Pat and Uncle Alan joined us all for the evening and, buoyed by the success of this game at Christmas, we even had a few rounds of charades, the highlight being Dougie pretending to urinate over everything for a film which will forever be known as The Piss Family Robinson.
As midnight approached we channel-hopped between Jools Holland’s jolly Hootenanny and the BBC reporting from the Thames with the usual inane interviewing:
“So where did you get those Union Jack hats?”
“I had to walk to the other side of the river: took me three hours”
“Well it was certainly worth it: well done”.
Then began the annual debate as to who would be the first-foot. For the uninitiated, in Scotland and the North East of England in particular, a first-foot is the first person to cross the threshold on New Year’s day who brings good fortune for the coming year. Rules have relaxed slightly in that the first-foot can be a member of the household but they must be outside before the stroke of midnight. Tradition has it they should be a tall dark-haired male.
There were three males in the house. Uncle Alan used to be a great first-foot but now his beard and hair are rather white, so he’s probably more welcome the week before, and his chosen point of entry would be the chimney. That left Dougie and Rory.
It was at this point I decided to google first-foot traditions and discovered that the tall, dark man should not be a minister, grave-digger or a doctor. We never knew that. We’ve been using Dougie as a first-foot for years, not knowing he has been a constant harbinger of doom and pestilence. Bugger. So it was down to Rory to save the day. Not keen to move his backside from the comfy sofa, he was equally put out that he was to be shoved out into the cold and miss the final countdown. His moans were ignored and we ran around finding all the things he needed to bring with him: –
Coin – for prosperity – we gave him 50p
Bread/Cake – for food – a chocolate brownie
Coal – for warmth – he nicked a pretend one from my mum’s gas fire display.
Drink – for good cheer – a bottle of whisky.
Once he had the whisky in his paws he looked a bit more lively and we shooed him out of the front door with a minute to go. The rest of us counted down, cheered, kissed, watched the fireworks and waited with bated breath for our first-foot. He seemed to take a while and I was worried he’d sneaked off with the The Famous Grouse so in the end I had to shout at him through the letter-box.
When he eventually walked through the door he was, indeed, a bringer of good fortune, with the biggest smile I’ve seen in ages and which, amazingly, I happened to catch mid-grin on my camera.
Happy New Year to you all and ‘Lang may yer lum reek’.
I had completely forgotten about First Foot! And yes if thaqt grin was my on my first visitor to the house I'd say I was in for a cracking 2012!
Happy New Year!
Tattie – it was good to see his face from behind the hair for a change!
Good old Rory, saving the day! May you all have a wonderful 2012! Emma 🙂 xx
Bless! Sounds like you all had a lovely time. I laughed about Alan coming down the chimney too! Next year, definitely, when the baby's old enough to chuckle at it!
Emma – Hope the new year in a new country is full of happiness for you all xx
Expat Mum – What a good idea! It could make a good sideline for him too, albeit only seasonal.
What a fab tradition.
Still waiting for someone to visit here. Will either be the postman or the delivery man from Tesco…
Steve – if the Tesco delivery man is blond, for god's sake don't let him in.
Had he been at the whisky to keep himself warm?
Glad you had a jolly time and I bet your mum was pleased to have you all there.
I love the traditions! Happy New Year to you all too!
Sarah – I should have marked the bottle.
Mum loved having us there even though she'd kept saying she'd be fine. We just ignored her and came anyway!
Jfb57 – Happy New Year to you too. Hope it's not as hectic as the run up to Christmas.
What a great tradition, I did not know about it. I now know where Sexy Hubby is going to be when December 31st comes to an end!!
My warmest wishes to you and your family for a fantastic 2012! xx
Funky Wellies – I shall remind you next Decembre so you can throw Sexy Hubby out into the cold on New Year's Eve. Best warn him, though 😉
Happy New Year to you and all the other Wellies xxx
We forgot to first foot this year!!! ah well…..never mind.
Health and happiness for 2012 Trish x
Libby – You forgot? Who was your first visitor then? Hope it was a suitable man…!
Happy new year Trish! Is it sad to admit that you were your own first foot for the third year in a row???
remind me to do something about this
Sounds as though you had a fab family time. What a gem
Rory is!
What a wonderful pic of your lad (and everyone who has a bottle of the good stuff should have a wide smile). He has grown so tall in such a short space of time!!!
Macy – I think you're probably a luckier first-footer than my husband but you should probably get your boy to take on this role now. Just watch your whisky!
Curry Queen – Isn't he just!
About Last Weekend – Nearly six foot now but his feet haven't changed over the last couple of years so that's something!
My Grandmother was Scottish and we always had a first footer – although for a while due to lack of other candidates it was the dog – who was dark and handsome (and tall in a doggy way) – we tied a plastic bag on to his collar with a mince pie and small bottle of whisky in it and gave him a log to carry in his mouth, shooed him out of the back door just before midnight and let him back in the French windows after – he loved all the fuss! Think your son was probably a better bet! Happy New Year!
Rollercoaster Mum – LOL! Such a great story. Thanks for commenting, that really made me laugh this morning.
A little late, just catching up, but boy, Rory certainly looks more like you with the passing years. Great looking young man, definitely a heart breaker. By the way, if it's any consolation, my daughter was awful as a teenager — she turned back into an actual human being around the age of 20 — must have been something to do with being away at Uni and needing money all the time!!
Marion in Panama