December 31st, 2024Just sayin…
Does anyone else remember getting ready for 2000? We were going to party like it was 1999 – because it was. But it was also a bit worrying that all of the world’s computers would grind to a halt.
A few friends stocked up on toilet paper (pandemic triggering) and champagne while my Nan stocked up on flour and sugar and things to bake with. She was a great baker – did a very nice scone. They were always scooped out of the oven into a tea towel in a colander. Not sure why. Keep them light perhaps?
Kyle and I did nothing to prepare but I still remember wandering around Myer Frankston, which no longer exists, Myer not Frankston, wondering what it was one wore to the potential end of the world. I think I chose a pant suit kind of thing. Not much one for dresses.
Of course nothing happened although the son of one of Mum’s friends got a very cheap midnight flight to America – the only one aboard apart from the crew. That’s how scared we all were.
I have had a few memorable New Year’s Eves. One was in Japan where we did nothing that night but the next morning climbed a mountain to watch the first sunrise of the year. And drank some really disgusting thick, sweet sake from a square wooden cup. And then visited lots of families and pretty much ate for the day.
Only a few years back we had a small affair at Glenlyon and burnt a giant blow up Corona beer bottle Kyle had managed to acquire online. Along with a big photo of Trump. They were clearly both gone for good. Hmmm.
Another time, Kyle, who seems to play a role in these events most of the time, decided he would light a handful of sparklers, inside the school.
They quickly caught alight, to his apparent surprise, so he ran outside and promptly dropped them on the deck.
This was also at Glenlyon where the dry summer meant there were plenty of leaves under the deck, just waiting to catch fire.
Luckily a friend, who was just a bit more onto it, poured his beer through the cracks and put the fire out before it took hold.
Yes, it can happen as easily as that. And Kyle, who had managed to stand on some of the burning magnesium, ran inside as it burnt a hole into his heel, and flushed his foot down the toilet. I don’t mean his foot came off, just ended up pushed into the S-bend. I guess that’s toilet humour.
One of the strongest memories, and I shouldn’t really remember this at all, was when we lived at Frankston and we took a limo to a boat tour out of Hastings. It was all very posh and we had a great night.
We returned home, feeling quite grand, only to find our dogs had obviously had something frightened out of them by fireworks. All over a lovely, shaggy wool rug.
The smell was unbelievable, so we dragged the huge rug out, draped it over a balcony rail and sprayed it down.
We were exhausted and for some reason I decided it was time to make some cookies. Special cookies using some lovely herbs some friends had given us in a fair sized Tupperware container.
I mixed the concoction up, waited for it to cook and then chomped in. The more I ate the hungrier I got. Strange that. And then the world took a turn for the worse.
I realised Kyle had died. He was lying on the floor, Pink Floyd in the background, and he was clearly dead. I was so sad. I called 000 but luckily, in my altered state, I called the old trunk line 013 and no-one answered.
This was probably quite good for my future but I railed against the unfairness of life. Kyle dying while just listening to music.
I then popped out to the balcony and screamed “my husband’s dead” but no-one came. Again, quite lucky in retrospect.
I decided to drag Kyle to a more comfortable spot, down the hall, and hoisted him onto the bed. Obviously I had developed superhuman strength. On the bed, I felt a hand grab my wrist. “Paranoia,” Kyle said.
Oh, I thought, not dead, just me being paranoid. And I slept well. Until I woke up and wondered if I had put the rest of the cookies away or left them in reach of the dogs…Dogs fine, Kyle fine, no more herbs ever. Happy New Year!
