I am sitting here, having done my blog reading roundup, feeling full and satisfied and just about ready for bed, frankly. It is 9.30pm. I am a party animal.
We saw in the New Year last night in what is now becoming our traditional way. We all (including the children who had stayed up and were running on a potent mixture of sugar and adrenaline) wrapped up, met up with my sister-in-law and her partner (who live over the road) and walked the short distance to a road near our house. It is an unremarkable road but it does offer a great view, from the top of our hill, of the other hills of Edinburgh. The arrival of the New Year here is greeted with fireworks launched from each of Edinburgh's 7 hills and you can see 6 out of those 7 from this road.
First Born was wearing his earplugs, as he doesn't like loud noises, but he was really pretty okay once he got into it and the boys leaped up and down and cheered like mad. Second Born refused to give me a kiss and ran away when I tried to steal one. I thought I had another couple of years before that started, but it would appear not. We then wandered home in the traditional drizzle, husband first-footed our house and we picked up provisions to go over and first foot SIL. We didn't have any coal or black bun handy, so we took champagne and chocodoodles. I had made the chocodoodles myself and although not what you would call strictly traditional, everyone seemed pleased enough. Except husband who does not like chocodoodles. He believes chocolate and cinnamon do not mix. The boys and I beg to differ and it means more for us anyway.
By 1.30am we were ready for bed and off we went.
The first morning of 2008 then started on a lovely note with First Born coming to tell me that Second Born had been sick in the night, he was very sorry but could I come and deal with the aftermath? He was very apologetic, poor soul. That sugar/adrenaline combo is a bit volatile. As you may know, there is no job I hate more than cleaning up someone else's dinner after they have eaten it but he had had the good grace to miss his pillow, himself and all 182 cuddly toys who share his sleeping quarters. So a relatively quick cleanup, all things considered. And the year can only get better from there, right?
The day did indeed get better. For lunch I covered a leg of lamb in obscene amounts of garlic and rosemary and shoved it in the oven. It smelled GLORIOUS. Our house still smells of it. Local cars are navigating by it: "Yeah, just turn left at the house that reeks of garlic and rosemary, the one surrounded by the vague green fug...." You can probably smell it from where you are now. My Mum and Dad arrived from exotic Livingston to spend the day and we had a nice time playing a game Second Born got for Christmas (Rapidough - you have to model stuff and your team has to guess what it is. Ever tried making a credible astronaut out of playdough? Second Born outdid himself making a playdough handkerchief and then sneezing into it. I've never been able to get him to use a real hanky - maybe I need to send him to school with a pot of playdough in his shorts' pocket). My Mum, Second Born and I lost conclusively at that and then we ate chicken liver pate I made yesterday followed by lots of lovely lamb and roast potatoes cooked in the goose fat left over from Christmas. Yumm. My arteries may never forgive me but I don't care.
Mum and Dad went home and to avoid us all just passing out in a stodge-induced stupor, we went out for a quick walk. The children, in response to my constant warnings to watch out for dog poo on the pavements (I am paranoid about that) came up with the suggestion that dog poo should be luminous so you could see it better and avoid stepping in it. They reckon that dog food manufacturers should be made to put a glow-in-the-dark additive in there so we can see where not to step. Not a bad idea that. I think I will patent it and then by this time next year I will have retired on my fluorescent dog poo earnings. Achievable goals, that's the ticket.