The unique, magical and stirring experience of Stonehaven’s Fireball ceremony is like nothing else in the world, writes Scott Begbie.
Right. Now that we have the faff of Christmas out the way, can we get on with the real celebrations, please? Bring on Hogmanay!
It has, of course, been forgotten in the mists of time – or should that be the fog of consumerism? – that, within living memory, bringing in the New Year was a far more important holiday in Scotland than December 25.
Personally, I keep that tradition alive by far preferring seeing in the bells than sitting around eating dry turkey and waterlogged Brussels sprouts – the devil’s food.
And what’s with pigs in blankets? You can improve pork sausages by wrapping them in bacon, can you? Why not go whole hog (see what I did there?) and use them as stuffing for pork chops?
Nope, give me Hogmanay, thanks. Especially in Stonehaven, with our glorious Fireball Ceremony. (It deserves those capital letters.)
There’s something magical and stirring – pagan, almost – about being on the High Street in the dead of night, waiting for the clock tower to start tolling on the dot of midnight.
A huge cheer goes up, there’s the “whoof” of paraffin-soaked fireballs being ignited, the skirl of pipes, then the swingers – a coveted post indeed – head up and down the High Street, turning it into a river of fire.
All around, there’s cheering, folk hugging each other, exchanging kisses and handshakes and bellowing: Happy New Year! It is simply glorious – and my heart is soaring with joy that, after that Covid-enforced darkness, we will see in a New Year with fire again.
And I’m also filled with pride that my adoptive home town is the place where all this happens – and all thanks to a band of hardy volunteers who give up so much time and energy to make it a reality.
Let’s keep the fiery spirit of the north-east burning
The swinging of a fireball is hard work. I know – I did it back in the 1980s; those heady days when I needed a bunnet to protect my hair.
The fireball itself is a heavy thing. Swinging it around your head is exhausting enough, let alone trying to walk with it, as the centrifugal force constantly throws you off balance.
Tradition has it that you keep going up and down the High Street until your fireball is all but burned out, before casting it into the icy waters of the harbour, with a comet-like tail of sparks.
On my shotty, I managed up and down once, then tossed the whole thing – still fiercely burning – into the water and started the serious business of first-footing instead. I needed a dram after that.
The spirit of the Fireballs is the spirit of Stonehaven – indeed, of the whole of the north-east
But, back to the present day, and the fire ceremony roaring back into life, driven entirely by the volunteers who stage this world-renowned event.
The spirit of the Fireballs is the spirit of Stonehaven – indeed, of the whole of the north-east: a fierce pride in community, a burning sense of tradition, and a fiery determination to make the place where we live better for everyone.
So, if there is a New Year’s resolution to be made, let’s make it pulling together to create a better north-east for everyone.
Happy New Year when it comes.
Scott Begbie is entertainment editor for The Press & Journal and Evening Express
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