Edinburgh Hogmanay Part 2


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Part two of my Edinburgh trip begins on New Year's Eve - and tonight is the massive Hogmanay street party, which is the key event for the whole week (the rest of the festivities have kind of expanded around the street party and the traditional Hogmanay idea, a bit of commercialism in the end I guess). Hogmanay itself means 'first footing' and traditionally it is meant for a person to be the first person to step foot in a neighbour or stranger's house after midnight on the new year, bringing a gift. A lump of coal is apparently the way to go for some reason... BUT you are not allowed to be blonde; superstition has it that you will bring bad luck for the rest of the year if your first footer in a house is a fair haired person. Anyway, back to the photo. You might have noticed the kilt... Not only was Malfroy trying to match my kilt, but she was trying to match me in the drinking stakes too! In typical Malfroy style, she has opted for a bottle of Pimms. I think there is some mixer in there somwhere too. OK so the kilt. Wow!! This little ripper is an authentic Scottish 8 yard kilt. I ordered it from a place in Glasgow a few weeks before coming up and it was delivered custom made to me in London a couple of days after Christmas, just in time! It is- of course - made from 16oz Lochcarron wool, in the official Bruce Clan tartan! Yep, nothing short of the best for Brucey. And that shouldn't suprise anybody either, when you consider how much I spent on my Austrian lederhosen for Oktoberfest, a Scottish kilt outfit was the logical next choice. Maybe also one day I'll get a kilt to match my Cronulla club cap. The rest of the outfit consists of a jacobite shirt, leather vest, matching socks and flashes, a belt and sporran (the furry manbag that hangs down to bring attention to my private region. It's also good for storing wallet, keys and phone). I sent the photo to Grandad back home -he as super impressed that I'd gone all out for the family name.
We convinced Ali and Andy (aka Dave, haha kidding) to come dressed up also. Turns out Andy already owned his own spiffy black kilt and sporran. Ali went out with Malfroy and got her own skanky outfit also. I thought 'this is gonna be one hell of a sight on the town, the four of us' but honestly, everyone was dressed up in some way or another. We were standout but not embarrasingly so. Just enough to grab attention where we wanted to :) You let me feel yours, and I'll let you feel mine... Malfroy tried to match me and brought a cheap and skanky mini-kilt. Love it!
I always wondered (in a non-gay kind of way) what it would be like to swing a kilt around. So I had a bit of a dance. The heavy fabric and perfect pleats moved flawlessly with my hips! Haha, had to watch it though, twirl around too fast and somebody might see what I'm not wearing underneath my kilt! We kicked off the night in the hostel room with the boys from Brisvegas. Pretty soon our dorm room was the place to be and we had guests from all over the hostel coming to party with us. As we partied, we gradually all started getting ready to hit the street party. The boys found a unique way of being able to find each other in the crowd of 100,000 odd people crammed into the city centre - tying Winnie the Pooh helium baloons to each other. Genius! Got chatting to this chick, can't recall her name but she was Aussie working in London. Her claim to fame is that she works as a dental assistant, and apparently was there when Prince Harry had his wisdom teeth out. Naturally the next question on everyone's lips - did you get to keep one? Well, no unfortunately, the minders made sure every last butchered chunk of tooth bone was collected and taken away. Obviously they are worried that it might bet into curious hands, the next thing you know someone's done a DNA test and proved the rumours that Prince Harry is not Prince Charles son! Haha love the conspiracy theories.
OK the most brilliant part of the night - we have been pissing it up in the dorm for hours now, thinking that once we get to the street party, we will have huge lines to get in, huge lines to get a beer, and it will undoubtedly be overpriced. What a shock it is when somebody tells us that we can actually bring our own grog into the street party area - they are fine with it so long as it's in plastic! Too easy, we head straight to the bottle-o (called off licenses here) and promptly acquire two litres of Famous Grouse whiskey, topped up with Irn Bru. Ready to go! We get to the gate to the street party. I'm expecting the worst - to be herded like cattle and have to line up for a security search (I think I've been spending too much time in Sydney). To my delight - there is no line - just about 30 coppers scattered at intervals across the road generally checking that we have no glass bottles, and that we are wearing wristbands. We walk straight through without even stopping. My god - the Scots can give the Australians a few pointers on crowd control and on running large events! I'm blown away by the general easy going atmosphere and the buzz of the party. Before you know it, we are enjoying side show alley - I remember riding the ghost train, swigging whiskey the whole way through and laughing my head off. And this ride (pictured) WOW! We wanted to do it all week but waited until we'd had a few drinks first tonight. It went upside down, inside out and back the front in every direction, about 100 metres into the air! Best part was, the guy took a photo of us all on 'The Claw' and though we were being thrown around harder than a tin of paint at a hardwarehouse, I didn't loose anything, and even kept my modesty intact, despite wearing a kilt while hanging upside down ;) After the ride - we are all buzzing on an alcohol and adrenalise fuelled high. It was amazing! Into the street party we go, to find a few of our friends we are meeting here. The band playing on the stage in front of us is Glasvegas, the upcoming stars in the UK right now. Yes they were good. The thing is though, it could have been Metallica, U@, The Killers, Kylie Minogue - it wouldn't have mattered. Musi was so a secondary part of the whole event - it was always there in the background, but the people and the vibe was just so good, you didn't even have time to watch the band.
We eventually ran into Celia, Jo and Kate, who were staying up here with some Scottish friends. We'd drink with them most of the night, despite the fact that I went AWOL for about 3 hours... Malf and Kate getting into the Pimms. I think Malfroy made everybody taste her Pimms that night, trying to convert them. Busting for the dunny, I take one look at the line and start laughing. Thank God I'm a bloke and wearing this handy kilt. I start looking for a back alley, of which there are many. At the last minute I am made aware by some Scots that it's not a good idea. The cops have been clamping down on it this year and issuing 80 pound on the spot fines. Bastards. So I'd have to line up for the port-a-loo like everyone else. What bloody use is this kilt now? Luckily, the party rages on even in the lineup. I meet this awesome crowd of locals, who admired my kilt outfit. Like everybody else so far, I tried to put on a northern Scottish accent and fool them into thinking I was a real Scotsman. Easy as, you only need to know a couple of words and you get by - aye, loch, lassie, wee dram, etc. Unfortunately I think somewhere in the conversation I dropped 'strewth' and the game was up! The girls loved it however. Rosie, the chick in the white jacket paid compliment to my 'good try'. The next thing you know, I'm in with her group, and nearly headed out to Falkirk on a minibus for another party! So friendly the Scots. In the end I didn't go, though I'm sure it would have been awesome. But they left too early and I still wanted to party on in the city and soak up the vibe. Turns out in the end it was a smart move. I got Rosie's phone number at some point, and later found out that there had been all sorts of dramas at her party, the cops came to break up the action and everything! Haha, love the Scots...
It's midnight - once again I'm stuck in the bloody que for a piss. As the clock strikes midnight, at least I can still see the fireworks from Edinburgh Castle. Pretty good, but got nothing on Sydney Harbour!! This photo is dedicated to drop-kick of the night. The only drongo I ran into was this knob security guard who tried to tell me that I'd had too much to drink and I wasn't allowed to be served anymore. What he failed to realise was that I had brought in about a litre of whiskey and I couldn't give a rats arse. But give me a photo of us together so I can remember what a tosser you are for trying. I must admit, I was well on the way. Go the 'water of life'. Between the hours of 12am and 1am - the Scots go absolutely beserk. Everyone thinks it's their God given right to pretty much pash whomever they wish. Generally this is every stranger passing by in the street. Wearing my Bruce tartan kilt, naturally I was a target for every local and tourist witha camera, especially the chicks who wanted a photo pashing a 'Scotsman in a Kilt'. So once again I'm playing along, grunting 'aye' and 'come here lassie'... I must have pashed about 40 chicks by the end of the hour of madness. Andy and myself leave the street party soon after, and head for the pub where everyone is meeting - a place called Draculas. Yep you guessed it - a gothic themed nightclub in the old town, which we can carry on until about 4am if we want. And yes, we want. Hmm, and I brought my face painting kit alogn for extra fun. (There really is heaps of room in those sporrans!)
   
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Description: The second part of this album pretty much covers the best street party that was ever held, some sightseeing around Edinburgh on New Year's Day (by myself as I was the only one tough enough to get before lunchtime from the HUGE night before) and then the pub crawl which finally defeated me. Yep - five nights on the 'water of life' and I was knackered...
Location: Scotland

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