Almost

– Well, here we are. The final minutes of 2013. The New Year practically upon us. A new beginning awaits... I said –
– Yes, I got all that. A new whatever.
– You don't seem very enthusiastic.
– I've been here before. New Years. They come every year.
– True. There is a certain inevitability about them. They don't exactly catch you by surprise. But, at the same time, there is something special about New Year's Eve. Bidding farewell to the achievements and disappointments of the last twelve months, and welcoming a new chapter in your life, brimming with untapped potential. It should instil a certain sense of hope and anticipation.
– I suppose so. It's difficult to know how best to prepare.
– So what are you planning to do with the evening?
– I've been boiling the turkey carcass.
– Is that something traditional?
– No, not particularly. It's not something I specifically do on New Year's Eve. It just happened I was looking at the leftover turkey earlier and thinking it was about time I did something with it.
– With a view to – ?
– Well, I'm not quite sure. I always assumed it was to generate a supply of exquisite turkey stock to enliven my cooking for the rest of the year. Typically, however, it gets deposited in the freezer and forgotten about. But I still feel a certain compulsion to go through the motions.
– It's good to continue these quaint customs. I always feel that something precious is lost when they are allowed to lapse.
– I'm not so sure I would describe the turkey stock as precious. It's just – well, broth-like.
– Of course. But surely this is a perfect example of what I was describing earlier. By re-enacting these ancient traditions you are making a direct connection with your historical and cultural roots. And, at the same time, the broth you are creating is not merely a dilute soup, but, more importantly, a symbol of your deep-seated spiritual preparations for the coming year.
– Yes. That had occurred to me.
– I'm glad to hear that. Happy New Year.