First Footing
The early settlers in the provinces of
Otago and Southland were mainly from Scotland, which is why little snippets of
Scottish heritage are still around if you know where to look. There’s even a
small hint of it in the local accent that’s unique to the area. Slowly the
heritage is being eroded, at least in rural areas these days, first footing has
become a thing of the past because of the drink driving laws. Sure the laws
have always been there but over the past thirty-odd years the penny has dropped
and the sensible won’t drive even after one drink! There are breathalysers behind
every second bush too!
New Zealand is the first country in the
world to see the New Year and Bert was a first footer! When he had a mind, his
Irish ancestry was there on his sleeve, but he was Scottish through and through
and he blamed the Sassenach king, James I for splitting his family and altering
the course of Scottish and Irish history! So, as tradition dictated, he would
tour the district, usually alone, in his old Mark I Consul, attracted like a
moth to the lights of houses, to be the first across their doorstep for the New
Year. He would take a lump of coal and his bottle of whisky in the hope his
call would bring the household good luck for the whole year!
One year I went with Bert. I was never
very interested in first footing and had been out with a light looking for a wild
pig, so my light was still on. Like a moth he was attracted. He was at that
chatty stage of drunkenness, so I had a sociable dram of his whiskey and
accepted his piece of coal. In return I offered him a pork chop, but that would
sober him! He still hadn’t been to a few places yet and wanted to get on his
way but I had noticed a couple of warning signs and suggested I accompany him. He
went quiet and stared at me, I stared back and after a time he smiled and told
me that I could drive.
Three stops were cordial and uneventful. It
was after four in the morning, but Bert wanted to call on Lofty, ‘just to annoy
him’! Lofty was a forest technician who had been sent up from District Office
to help us over the Christmas – New Year break in case of fire. More like they
wanted him out of their hair, but anyway... Lofty was aptly named. He was six
foot, twenty four tall! He was big all over and overly proud when it came to
his endowment! He wouldn’t ever turn his back when he wanted to pee, oh no, he
proudly flashed the thing to all and sundry to admire!
There was no light on at Lofty’s house and
I looked a Bert. It really wasn’t manners to pull people out of bed; mind you,
a couple of years later it became the norm among a few ratbags in the district!
However, Bert wasn’t concerned about the dark and said we will just pull the ‘big
pizzled bastard’ out of bed. Ding, ding, a little warning bell rang in my head;
Bert had taken umbrage at being flashed at! The light came on after a few raps on
the door and on a couple of windows. Lofty wasn’t a local, so had seen nothing
of first footing and wondered what it was that a couple of grinning fools
wanted at that hour.
Bert was happily slurring, so I had to
translate for Lofty’s benefit. He wasn’t too happy about our welcoming the New
Year in at his place, but he accepted Bert’s dram. I hadn’t been drinking other
than that first one. I usually found a way to return it to the bottle or tipped
it into a pot-plant. Good to control the green aphids! Lofty didn’t want a
second, but he ended up sipping it down, a result of Bert’s pestering. It became obvious he wanted us to leave! I
took the hint, but not Bert, he still had his axe to grind! He was sitting
there talking about old times with a Cheshire cat grin on his face, being
annoying. He was testing Lofty.
Lofty stood up, ducking to dodge the
lightbulb, he lifted Bert by the collar, turned him around and held him by his
belt loops! That’s the thing about sizable people. They think small people are intimidated
by them, so they take liberties. And he was taking a liberty with Bert! Whenever
Bert had had a few in, he would want to ‘pop on’ any takers for a lazy stick challenge.
A test of strength from the Highland games between two men sitting down foot to
foot on the ground. They pulled on the stick and the winner pulled the other’s
bum off the ground. I’ve never seen Bert lose at it!
I saw it coming! I knew Bert didn’t like
to be man-handled! In a quick wiggling motion he was free and in the blink of
an eye, he swung his fist up and whacked it into Lofty’s glass jaw! It must
have been glass because he just stood motionless for a second or two and slowly
tipped backwards like a felled pine tree! I positioned myself to catch him,
thinking he might knock his head on something hard. I didn’t have a hope! He
was way too heavy, so he took me with him, smashing a wooden chair on the way
down! It took me a bit of scrambling to free myself!
Lofty was ok but hadn’t learned from the
experience because another time he tried it again! My back was crook for the
best part of a week! I turned the car heater on full on the way back to Bert’s
and by the time we reached there he was slumped in the seat, breathing deeply.
He would have slept in his car anyway because he didn’t like Edna seeing him
drunk. I walked home and arrived there around sunrise.
We never mentioned what had happened that
night, but I noticed that Bert could hardly use his hand for a couple of weeks
or so!
And that’s first footing a la Bert! Happy
New Year!
