I live in a country that goes absolutely mental on New Year’s Eve. ‘Everyone’ buys hundreds of euros worth of fireworks and then blow it all up on New Year’s Eve (and in days leading up to it).
To be honest, I never saw the appeal. I appreciate the pretty fireworks, but at the moment with an hour to go until midnight it sounds like warzone around here. What’s the point of simply loud bangs? I hate those. I think I got to hate them more and more each year as I am turning into a grumpy old woman.
Seriously, what is the point of those bombs going off? Is that celebration? Or is that just to see who has the loudest most terrifying, house shaking bang? And every one of those bangs probably cost the owner €100 (if not more!). No… Just no.
At the moment I am just annoyed as it is stressing my ponies out. Well, pony. Mum Freda seems to be calm. She is happy as long as she’s got hay to munch on. Her foal Moon is another story though. He’s pacing and stress drinking. I will have to make sure they have plenty to eat and drink once the year actually turns over and all hell break lose.
On the other hand, at midnight people tend to bring out the pretty fireworks. I don’t mind those as much. There’s a point to those. Not like those bombs that could bring down an avalanche. I promised my six-year-old girl I would wake her for New Year’s for the first time. Hope she will like the fireworks. She normally manages to sleep through them.
Oh, and don’t get me started on oliebollen! In Holland they have this tradition of eating something that translates to ‘oil balls’ on New Year’s Eve. So around this time of year everyone offers you these round deep fat fried doughnut like things, about the size of your fist, that you then hide under a generous dusting of powedered icing sugar. They are greasy and heavy on the stomach. Can you tell I am not a fan? I don’t hate them, but once I have had one, I am done for the year.
Actually, I made some that you make in the oven in muffin tins. They are not real ‘oliebollen’ but I actually much prefer them. They are not as heavy, less oily and the outside is crispier. My husband disagrees, but he’s English, so he’s not allowed to have an opinion on Dutch traditions. 🤣
I do remember that when I was little my grandpa used to make them himself and when they are fresh out of the frier they are actually so much nicer than store bought ones.
Anyways, let’s go and watch some crappy New Year’s Eve telly and watch some fireworks on telly whilst also looking out of the windows to see the fireworks go up around us.
Happy New Year, lovely bloggers and readers!