Post the New-Year's-Eve-th

New Year's Eve!  Complete with Alfred Hitch-Swim.




There has probably been many an occasion when you've stopped what you're doing and given serious thought to how New Year's is celebrated in the Antarctic.  We've all done that from time to time.  I know there have been moments when the question has dominated my thoughts.

What dark and arcane rituals take place on the last day in the year?  How does being in the world's bottom affect those resident there on 31st of December?  What fearful secrets have been carefully guarded over the years?

Well strap yourself in, because you are about to find out!


The excitement begins in the kitchen.

"In the kitchen?", you ask, querulously.  "Why the kitchen?"

"Because," I respond, "That's where I have been all day.  Duh!  If the excitement begins anywhere else I'm not going to know about it, am I?"  So naturally, the excitement begins in the kitchen.

It is still a big day for the kitchen, though.  Not as significant or busy as Christmas, but still very big.  There are numerous dishes to prepare, not the least being the signature dishes of the spit-roasted pig and the crayfish.  (Or as some dopey marketing board would have us call them, 'rock lobsters'.  Pffff.  Crayfish).

Here Rocket carves the pork...

The only time spitting is permitted in the kitchen.

And here I shuffle from foot to foot waiting for dinner to start...

Can we start now?  Now?  How about now?

And that's all the food photography you're going to get.  If you've seen the two Christmas posts you've probably chunked on a couple of kilos just from looking at the photos.  I would hate to make it worse.


A word of warning.  What follows is a series of photographs of people you (most probably) don't know and (definitely) don't care about.  Unless you do.

So bearing in mind that looking at pictures of strangers at a party you weren't at is approximately as interesting as listening to an MP3 of the entire score of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers being performed by an AUSLAN signer, let's press on.


One of the unfortunate side effects of the turn of the year on the earth's bum is that certain ladies become uncomfortably hirsute.  Here are three of them, displaying their interest in Mark.

Simone, Adamette and Stuartina with Mark

Judging from his facial expression, I think it's fair to say that he's just not that into them.  Never mind, girls!  The night is long, and the beer goggles are being handed out.  You never know.


Wandering around the room in search of other interesting wildlife I stumbled into this nest of boffins.

Elton?

Perhaps, you say to yourself, this will be where the secretive goings-on will be exposed!  This is where we discover the shocking truth (shocking!) behind NYE in the deep, deep, DEEP south.  After all, scientists are a very strange lot.  Particularly THIS group of scientists.  (Well, Tom Mooney in particular).

Alas, no.

I did stick around for a while, furtively snapping photographs of the boffins individually and in groups, but nothing interesting was happening.

The most notable thing that happened was that as I was taking a photo of Trish another gaggle of bearded babes wandered past.

(How about that hot chick with the muttonchops? Noice!)

Trish's photo horribly despoiled.

I just hope for these girls' sakes that the mysterious effect that is causing their transformations is short lived.

So.  No mysterious happenings here.  Disturbing happenings, sure.  But not mysterious.

But what with the camera out and a party under way, your friend and mine, Swim-Swim, could not help but get involved.  The little photobombing scamp just wanted to be in everything.

Here he is, pulling focus in the bar.

On AGSO Rachel

On chopper pilot Ian. (While Dave Pullinger looks on, bemused).

Here's a dreadful photo.  Someone thought that they could be clever and photograph into the sun.  Someone is an idiot.

Anyway, this is Engineering Services Supervisor Mark Pekin (on the left) saying something dazzling to Antarctic Division Director Tony Fleming.  (See what I did there?  Did I redeem the bad photo with that little joke?  No, I didn't think so either).

In any case, Swim-Swim has to stick his horn in.

Glaringly bad photo.

Incidentally, Tony wasn't supposed to be with us for New Year's.  That day he was supposed to be flying to Casey, and then to catch a further flight to McMurdo (the US base) for official high level visit type stuff.   Official.  And high level.  The weather in Antarctica is no respecter of flight schedules however, and the Casey skiway had to be shut down due to fog.

No Casey skiway mean no flyee Casey.  Mean stayee Davis.  Ee.

With bad weather at Casey quickly followed by bad weather here, it appears that Tony's window for getting to McMurdo and thence back home to Hobart is very narrow indeed.

Very. Narrow.

Just like the fixed smile he had been wearing all day around Davis after the flight was cancelled.

In this next one Swim-Swim tried to photobomb, but was gazumped.  Seamus and Cath actually wanted to pose for a photo with him.  Pose!  Unheard of.

Well out of order.

Swim-Swim consented, but you could tell that his beak was out of joint.  Don't these people know how the game is played?

But it got worse.  The Director wanted in on the game next.  Swim-Swim wasn't keen, but I 'convinced' him it was politic to do as asked. 

Swim-Swim being convinced.

You can tell from the less fixed state of Tony's smile that he has enjoyed a couple of glasses of "I Don't Care Any More." On the rocks.

After being forced to pose for a second time Swim-Swim lost all interest in the evening.

And so that's it.  No more photos.


"What?!" you cry.  "You promised us ritual!  You promised us mystery!"

It's true, I did.  I did get some very controversial photos of the events surrounding the turning of the year.  Unfortunately my camera was taken from me, and those particular pixels were ruthlessly destroyed.

Either that, or I was in bed by 10pm because it was a school night, and I missed the whole thing.

One of those two options.  Select whichever version you like best, and that's what happened.

And that's it also for Christmas/New Year specials.  Next week we'll return to the regularly scheduled posts of Antarctic capers, wildlife and... er... rocks.  Don't miss it!