End of Year Rant

My mother's censorious voice is replaying itself in my mind as I type this. The ticking off being because in spite of my prolonged bout of flu, I went to the Torchlight Procession on Monday night and spent a while at the top of Calton Hill in the cold, therefore I can be judged to be an idiot in her eyes. Follow this up with standing in the freezing cold for three, yes 3 hours to pick up tickets for the Street Party, last night and you can see why I am putting off returning her calls. She will not really say anything I haven't said to myself, but with added guilt tripping.

Torchlight Procession.

This semi-pagan fire ceremony attracted 15-20,000 people depending on which report you read. It certainly looked impressive with the trail of fire coming down the Mound, along Princes St and up onto Calton Hill. Once there, some (not very intimidating) Vikings lit a fire, shaped as the Lion Rampant. Then, to the strains of Highland Cathedral, the most spectacular fireworks show began.
Next evening, was the picking-up-the-tickets fiasco. Let it be said that to muck up this grandly takes a degree of genius. Three ticket slots servicing many thousand people takes a while. I'd sauntered up early evening and just as well I did, as they shut the queue not many yards behind me. The (dis)organisers expect a large proportion of the 100,000 people planned at the Street Party, lots of whom just arrived in the country yesterday, to pick up their tickets but only provide three people to serve them!!!!!!!!! And these guests to Edinburgh have to freeze in the cold for hours with no option if they want their already booked and paid for tickets.

OK, I could have been far more organised and booked tickets early enough that they were sent out to me, but I didn't. Not everyone wants to be locked into plans that early. But I expect a sensible service.

This pic is from when I was standing in the very long queue in sub-zero temps doing my flu no good. It is of the BofS HQ on the Mound with risky fairground rides outside it instead of the arrogant risky business usually performed inside.

Of course, the human spirit perks up in these situations, and there was a very sweet moment when the friend of the shivering German in front of me arrived with his pal's 'tea' in tupperware and took the heavy bags off his shoulders and nearly fed the poor soul to keep him going. Awww!

Sig Other and I fortunately, had fortified ourselves with leek, potato and yellow split pea soup, followed by honeyed rice pudding and blueberry compote, but even that amount of starch couldn't keep the cold out for the whole three hours.

I won't forget this and can confidently predict I'll be moaning about it for months. I just won't tell my mother how long I stood in the cold. Perhaps, I'll have calmed down enough to enjoy myself tonight, but the end of the year is as good a time to have a rant as any. If I were the resolution-making type, I could resolve not to rant so much, but that wouldn't last far past the Bells!

In the meantime, Sig Other is being subjected to Scottish traditions and my haphazard explanations of why things are done the way they are at Hogmanay. I think he got a bit fed up when I pointed out steak pies in Sainsbury's earlier today - apparently he knew what they were, even though they don't have them where he comes from.

Daughter, longsufferingly accepted the text of the New Year joke I texted her. This is something that my father used to tell us each New Year, but he remembered it properly, whereas, with each passing year I forget bits of it. It no longer makes any sense, so I can't repeat it here!