31 Dec / New Year’s Eve Celebrations
Well I have to admit I’ve started already. I’ve begun watching movies on the telly. To be fair I do have to start early because I’m planning on finishing early as well. It’s been many a long year since I’ve been able to stay awake until midnight.
If I was really serious about the whole tradition I could always do a Mr Bean and wind the clock forward a few hours, but that seems too much effort just so I can count back from ten alone (my darling would never join in) and then yell happy new year, and go to bed.
Easier to just play it out in my head now and not risk putting all the clocks in the house out of sync.
In a celebration of a faded memory I did have jelly and cream for dessert tonight. Followed an hour later by my latest crop of ripe cherries (five, two of them untouched by birdlife.)
We are also trying to get some sort of New Year’s Day family celebration thingee going. Cafes in Christchurch haven’t been very compliant so far, so at the moment the plan is to have a picnic somewhere.
The botanic gardens has been suggested as a suitable spot, maybe the Port Hills if it doesn’t get too windy, or the front yard of someone’s house. All equally fine suggestions as long as the house isn’t ours. It would be nice to venture slightly further afield however, maybe even Nunweek Park if we’re lucky.
In honour of the traditional picnic basket spreads from my childhood I’ve baked a bacon and egg pie. I’ve eschewed the various fancy recipes on offer throughout the internet, in lieu of the traditional one that I keep in my head.
It stays in my head largely through simplicity. There’s pastry (or else it wouldn’t be a pie) and bacon and egg. I occasionally go all out and sprinkle on some pepper and salt, depending on the salinity of the bacon chosen (on special of course!)
The main problem with this sudden display of domesticity is that the smell of a beautifully cooked bacon and egg pie has permeated the entire house. The entire house where I’m currently not eating many carbs, and my darling is not eating much fat.
I say it smells beautiful, but it’s more like torment.
Never mind, it’s nearly nine o’clock so I’ll be heading off to bed shortly and wake up tomorrow with the smell dissipated and the New Year here.