I’ve spoken at length about the advantages of middle age. One of them is that you don’t feel obligated to party hearty but the option is there if you are so inclined. At no time is this more the case than New Years Eve. For young whipper snappers the pressure is on for NYE to be epic. There’s a sense that if its not the best night of the year you’re doing something wrong. Consequently it rarely lives up to the hype.

I’ve done the Sydney Harbour fireworks on a number of occasions and in a variety of positions – from the AMP building, from atop of Grosvenor Place in George Street and from the Toaster building two years running. The latter is as glamorous as it sounds. Its just a pity that the old flame involved was a disaster.  Yes the Harbour fireworks are spectacular and all the more enjoyable for not having to jostle with the great unwashed. I don’t mean to sound unappreciative but I’ve been there and done that. I’ve also experienced my fair share of sad sack New Year’s where I’ve ushered in the fresh annus desperate and dateless. I don’t want to go there and do that again.

This time around I left my New Year’s plans in the lap of the Gods which is code for I couldn’t be bothered organizing anything. Chez ‘Abulous is a top spot for a party as our upper deck affords a birds eye view of the local fireworks display. It’s not quite the same as watching the Harbour Bridge transform into a cascade of flames but considering we don’t have  get our lazy butts any place its a good deal.  Dadabulous made noises about inviting people over for a few cold ones and the family friendly 9pm show. Neither of us managed to get our act together. We declined an invitation to meet some friends at the beach preferring not to battle for position with the milling throng or queue for toilets with a potty training three year old. Instead Team Abulous dined on barramundi and prawns whilst sipping French champagne. P1 asked as approximately every 10 minutes when the fireworks would start. P2 just wanted to avoid going to bed.

Finally we braved the Antarctic gale and ventured out on to our upper balcony for some pyrotechnic entertainment. I tried to take some photos but I soon discovered that fireworks are much more impressive to the naked eye than they are from behind the camera lense. Moreover they are ludicrously difficult to capture in their full glory as evidenced by my feeble attempts.





P1 spent the entire display asking when the grand finale would be. Every ball of flame was accompanied by her asking “Is this the grand finale?”.  When the grand finale did arrive it felt like we could reach up and grab the glorious blaze of shimmering sky flowers. ( Please excuse this uncharacteristic fruitiness ).  I’d love to show you but by that time I’d stowed the camera and picked up my Freedom Furniture champagne flute to savor the last dregs of  Bredif Brut. Dadabulous said it best “Apart from the plumbing debacle that was a pretty reasonable year”. Appropriately then, Team Abulous farewelled it pretty reasonable style.

My 2013 be “pretty reasonable” for you.

Chink, chink.



3 thoughts on “Bang!

  1. Ah, I’m so glad I know longer have to live up to the crazy expectations of NYE celebrations! Even fireworks get to be the same every year. Maybe I’m just turning into an old cranky cow but I just think about how those blazes in the sky are just so bad for the environment.
    But hey, Happy New Year! 🙂 x

  2. We watched some fireworks on telly. Does that count? Catriona Rowntree’s thin these days, she needed to be I guess to keep up with her toyboy co hosts.
    Here’s to being blogging buds in 2013, I’m glad I found you mumabulous!

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