'Here's a Hand my Trusty Fiere...'

HL and I will be cosily settled side by side like Darby and Joan watching it all on the television.. Famous last words............

With little to cheer him up on the screen 'Darby' sloped off to his bed at 10pm with less good humour than might have been hoped for on such a special night, while I sat intending to make it to the bells, but also succumbed to inertia and followed him before the first salvo of fireworks resounded like an artillery bombardment round the city. The bedroom was lit up as wave after wave of rockets and every other kind of squib was sent skyward from various points in the town.

It is hard to accept that that not every one is blessed with an optimistic nature at the fag end of an old year and facing a new one ready and waiting on the doorstep.
A day tramping the hills will no doubt lighten HL's humour and I was more than happy to have a restful and cheerful day drinking mulled wine with Edinburgh daughter and walking through Holyrood Park while watching the triathletes speeding round Arthur's Seat in the New Year's Day triathlon.

And so the curtain is slowly falling on Edinburgh's Hogmanay; the streets busy with people leaving, pulling cases behind them, and the dismantling of stages around the city centre. However, it's not all completely over until the fat lady sings.