A Smashing New Year - then on to The Sales

Love it or loathe it, the one thing that sets a Scotsman apart from the common man, especially in foreign climes, is the Kilt. This is especially the case when worn at Hogmanay. I must admit that my Douglas tartan kilt has not seen a lot of service during its circumnavigation of Australia having spent most of its time on the roof rack keeping the beach tent company, but on New Years Eve Johann persuaded me to wear it when we went to watch the fireworks over Sydney Harbour.

In Edinburgh the fireworks are concentrated on the city centre particularly over the Castle, Princes Street Gardens and the surrounding streets, this being the venue for an enormous Hogmanay party. Sydney on the other hand has a population of around four million and the central part of the city around the harbour is many times the size of Edinburgh, therefore the pyrotechnic displays are probably less concentrated than in Edinburgh with several places used for launching and multiple sites designated for viewing. There are also two fireworks displays – one at 9pm and another at midnight to bring in the New Year. Needless to say, as canny Scots, we attended both!

A few minutes walk from Johann and Stretch’s house is a small park with magnificent views across the water towards the Sydney Harbour Bridge, which naturally enough was one of the key firework launch sites. We had a little inside knowledge of the event as Bill, a Kiwi friend of Stretch with a healthy interest in blowing things up, was one of the firework team. Our group, including Steven and Co plus Gill (Sandra’s younger sister from Darwin) went to join the one million plus crowd for the midnight show and were amazed to find the only bench in the park being vacated as we arrived – so we quickly nabbed it. I was then despatched back to the house to pick up a couple of picnic chairs to give everyone a seated ringside view – it was then that the “kilt effect” came into play.

My route back to the house took me past the Bald Rock Hotel – a local pub with a live band (playing some very good Blues) packed to the doors with New Year revellers and with a huge overspill of drinkers in the street. With the usual cries “Hey yoo Jimmy – Ha’ a Guid Hugmany” - in the most excruciatingly phoney Scottish accents, I was soon involved in debates as to the relative merits Celtic and Rangers, the effectiveness of the new Scottish Parliament and, of course, what do Scotsmen wear under their kilts?

Dragging myself away, I managed to pick up the chairs and was making my way back to the park when another group noticed the kilt. This time the accents seemed more authentic and it turned out that they were Scottish – not only that, they came from Penicuik, ten miles away from us in Eskbank! Gary and Kevin were now resident in Australia with Gary’s parents visiting from Penicuik.


Suddenly we were disturbed by a loud crash and for a moment we thought that the fireworks had started early but no – it was a drunk who had decided to prematurely bring in the New Year by smashing windows. With cries of “Hey, ye cannae dae that!” and “That’s nae oan!” my new friends Gary and Kevin went off in pursuit of the window smasher with Gary’s mother left behind wailing “Och Gary, dinnae get involved son”. As the householder emerged to see who her early first foot was, I went across to look at the damage whilst the two vigilantes came back empty handed.

Then on to the fireworks.

With the Harbour Bridge and the skyscrapers of the central business district forming an impressive backdrop, the firework displays were dramatic and the photos I took did not do justice to the scene. At midnight the four girls – Johann, Sandra, Gill and Ana – got a good view of the proceedings by jumping up onto our park bench with a bottle of pink champagne to bring in the New Year. The fifth girl of the party, young Anatalia, missed out on her first New Year by sleeping through proceedings.

On the way home I took Sandra and Gill to have a “stickybeak” at the broken window only to be slightly embarrassed to find the woman peering out of her house at us from a distance of two feet. She probably thought we were the phantom window smasher back for seconds.

Back at the house the tent got its final airing as it had been erected in the garden for Steven, Ana, Lex and Anatalia to spend the night. I had put the tent on E-bay and had received many offers for it but eventually sold it to Johann’s new next-door neighbours. Whilst it was good to get it sold and out of the house, it was however a bit of a wrench as it had been our home for the best part of a year and it really brought it home to us that this Australian adventure was coming to an end.

On the First we had a quiet-ish day and in the afternoon “Firework Bill” came around absolutely exhausted as he had been working at the fireworks until 4.30am but was delighted with the outcome. Before setting off for home Talia posed for a photo shoot putting on her sunglasses and a Marilyn Monroe pout for the camera – they start early these days!

Then followed a manic two days of shopping. Gill - down from “the sticks” and with money to spend, Sandra – who never needs an excuse to shop, and Johann hit the sales, markets and “Op Shops” (charity shops) looking for bargains. Johann showed a remarkable lack of shopping stamina but the other two, with the predatory nature of a couple of hungry sharks running amok in a shoal of fish, showed greater fortitude and spent a fortune. I initially supported them on trips to Rozelle Market and Darling Harbour but, as trying to keep control of them was like herding cats, I gave up. The end result – Sandra will have to grow another pair of feet to justify all the “bargain” shoes she now has!

Gill, who was actually very lucky to have got to Sydney at all as she had been visiting her in-laws in Queensland where she had been trapped by the dreadful floods, left to fly back to Darwin on 4th January. The occasion was tinged with sadness as it is likely to be a number of years before the three sisters get together again. They seem happy enough in the final photograph - the tears came later.

However the final parting did not go smoothly as Gill, whose life revolves round highs and lows, couldn’t resist a final crisis. Sandra and I had been trying to off-load camping gear and Gill, whose love for a bargain is only exceeded by her love for something free, was kicking herself because she couldn’t take all the freebies as she was flying and this would put her baggage over the weight limit. However the one thing she wanted (and actually needed) was one of our camp beds which weighed in at a considerable 12 kilograms. By shifting all her heavier items into her hand luggage - “which they never weigh anyway” – she was able to get her checked in luggage just on the 23k limit. We dropped her off at the airport then set off for home through the heavy Sydney traffic.

Twenty minutes later the plaintive phone call came “They won’t let me onto the plane – I’ve got too much luggage”. The hand luggage had after all been weighed and was about double the limit. Hard choices had to be made and the bed lost – so Johann, Sandra and I had to about turn, battle through the traffic again, return to the airport and pick up the bed. Consequently we now still have two very good quality camp beds, each with a king single, self inflating mattress – any takers?