Now the celebrations are over and the year takes its first tentative steps. The farm animals have stopped their involuntary manure and the pets have found the courage to appear from under the bed. Fireworks are over!
Not that they’re ever really over here, certainly in Calabria, as they announce every birthday with light and sound and every village festa requires a religious farewell of shattering stars.
However, it’s on New Year’s Eve when the big guns (almost literally) take over. This is when the missiles are deployed, coloured high explosives that shake the ground, not only in any officially sanctioned display, but in every garden, every street, across to Sicily, the whole region explodes as if Etna was joining in the fun. And, not just for a few minutes but for hours, black-market ammunition is launched into the already star-lit sky. Pistols fire aimlessly into the night, bullets falling to god-knows-where so duck your head and take care.
The question is; is the noise and colour celebrating the year past, the basic achievement of having survived it, or is it heralding in some hope, a cathartic cleansing of the soul and a new resolve?
Wishing you all the very best from the toe of the boot!