outback-aus226The Australian sun has been fierce in the waning days of 2009. And the north wind, roaring in ruthlessly from the hard baked, dusty interior. Summer is here and 2010 is poised to start with a fiery fury Down Under.

I like the heat. One of the many reasons I was happy to move down here. I like the way the sun feels on my skin, drawing sweat out of my pores. But days like today, with that hot north wind overpowering our feeble old air-conditioning system, it is a bit much. It’s all I can do to lay on the couch with my laptop under a vent wheezing lukewarm air and hope that the kids sleep just a little bit longer. And it still feels a bit odd, this kind of heat on the last day of the year.

pool

New Year’s is not my kind of holiday. I don’t remember the last time I stayed up to see midnight and it isn’t going to happen this year either. It isn’t an age thing, I’ve never very comfortable with the forced jollity of the holidays and New Year’s. After two big holidays in the span of a month, it is just a bit cruel to tag another one there at the end. I’m not sure who New Year’s is for, but it isn’t for me. Even at my late-twenties partying prime, I found New Year’s more of a chore than a pleasure. I had to do something on New Year’s or else I was one of those losers who sat around by themselves on the holidays and died in their apartments and didn’t get found until the neighbours phoned the police about an unpleasant odour.

I put so much pressure on myself that I often would collapse in a heap of drunken anxiety before I even went out for the night. One of my most vivid memories of New Year’s Eve is one in the mid 90’s in Athens, Georgia on which I was supposed to go into town for the night with some friends that I didn’t really like. I did so much pre-party drinking of Henry McKenna that by the time I was supposed to meet up with my friends, I was too drunk to leave the house. I welcomed in the New Year on my roof with my strange little cat blasting Radiohead’s “OK Computer”. I don’t actually know how I got off the roof.

These days, I don’t have the insecurity about my rotted corpse being found by neighbours. I don’t care whether or not I’ve got anything to do for the New Year. I don’t drink these days and my fear of heights tends to keep me off the roof. I still listen to Radiohead, however, and New Year’s can still kiss my butt.

cleland1The cool change came, as expected, late this afternoon. The wind shifted direction, blowing cool and soft out of the south, bringing with it a blessedly refreshing drop in the temperature. As the afternoon waned, we headed for Casa Arizaphale for a New Year’s Eve Barbecue. There was swimming and backyard cricket and homemade fireworks. As I write this, it is not yet midnight – young kids aren’t really conducive to seeing in the New Year ‘properly’ – and chances are I won’t make it til 12:01.*

Last year, my first holiday season Down Under, was a difficult one. I was having problems with the transition to my new home, the seasonal reversion, a general feeling of displacement. But things have turned around a bit this year. I’m warming to Australia, especially her people. Time spent with family has assuaged some of that displacement. And on nights like tonight, as I did a lazy breaststroke in the pool, I can see the advantage of having these damned holidays in the summer.

Still not much of a fan of this particular one. But what the hell – Happy New Year!

Now, I’m going to bed and try to get a decent night’s sleep before one of my kids wakes me up before dawn.

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* I actually did. I got sucked in to John Irving’s latest novel and heard the boom of fireworks from Glenelg. I headed out on the balcony in an inappropriate state of dress and watched the fireworks show.

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Barenaked Ladies’ “Barenaked for the Holidays” is available from Barenaked Ladies - Barenaked for the Holidays.

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