According to the Merriam- Webster dictionary, a walkabout is a “short period of wandering bush life engaged in by an Australian aborigine as an occasional interruption of regular work.” Well, there may have been only one or two Australians, and we aren’t aborigines, but we did do a bit of “bush wandering” this New Year’s Eve.

            The Malaspina party gang was out in full force for our fourth annual New Year’s Eve walkabout. Twenty-five neighbours could be found stumbling about in the dark to share in a great selection of snacks and beverages offered at the five host homes. While the first leg of the course was relatively easy to traverse, things got a little dicier with venues four and five. Jordan and I hadn’t taken into consideration that our front yard would be an obstacle course of construction when we had originally made our offer to host.

            Starting at 7:30, Aileen Adam and Sandy Duncan co-hosted at Sandy’s. There were two soups, both delicious, served with a hardy bread. This served us well in both filling our stomachs with something substantial and to warm us up for the long evening ahead. The ladies had also made a delicious hot apple cider (non-alcoholic) and mulled wine. We were off to a great start.

            Next up was Pam and Doug Harle’s house. They had just arrived from Vancouver earlier in the afternoon, so Pam was surprisingly calm as she made her terrific vegetarian quesadilla (although I may have heard her curse at her frying pan once as something was burning.) Doug was in charge of the margaritas and did a commendable job, I might add. Now the party was hopping!

            Our next stop was at the home of Gerry and Neil Ballash, relative newcomers to the island. The hi-light of their spread was a variety of smoked fish. There was some debate over one fish. It had come in an unlabelled package and Gerry was fairly certain that it was some type of salmon. I am not sure that we ever did come to a consensus, but it was very good, whatever it was. I think that it was at about this point that I started noticing some of the men scratching their heads and wondering where the meatballs and sausage rolls were. I, on the other hand was delighted in the menu so far; I could eat everything! But now, on to the “bush” leg of our journey.

            The quickest way to get to Hank and Allison’s is through our property, which would be treacherous, especially in the dark, and even more so after a few drinks! Earlier in the day, Doug and Jordan had cleverly strung several strands of Christmas lights through the treed lot behind our house, so that by following the lights, you could safely arrive at the back of our house and then easily on to Hank’s. Everyone made the trip safely, although Jean and I nearly had the bejesus knocked out of us when a deer charged across our dimly lit pathway. I needed another drink after that scare!

            For those desperately seeking the beef, there would be no manly grunting at house number four. Hank called it a “palette- cleansing course.” It was perfect. There were many different fruits, some soaked in alcohol such as the pears in port, and several dessert cheeses. There were also individual deliciously citrus orange-lemon sorbets, which I know must have taken Hank all day to prepare. Hank had made little place cards for each dish, with names and sometimes comments (papaya: not quite ready.) Then it was off to our place for midnight.

            I had left a bit earlier in order to ready the house: candles lit, fire burning, coffee brewing. But I had foolishly broken one of my cardinal rules of entertaining. I was preparing a recipe that I had never made before. So, as Jordan rushed in to give me a last-minute hand, I was on the verge of an anxiety attack. My chocolate wasn’t melting and there was water spewing everywhere from my makeshift double boiler. Jordan quickly made it right, and by the time guests made it down the path to our place, everything was in order. We served the chocolate with fruit, cookies, marshmallows and fortune cookies to dip. I’m sure it was yummy, but I was too busy being a hostess (gabbing) to eat any. I did, however, like the fortune I got. It was a good omen for the coming year.

            When the big moment arrived (Whoops, I forgot to buy noise makers!), everyone was ready to toast. We sang a rousing chorus of Auld Lang Syne, led by Nancy Carse and then everyone relaxed and settled down to more conversation. I think that the last of the partiers left around 1AM. Our only concern was that on leaving our place, no one would bravely (foolishly) take the short cut off our patio, which was now a buffalo jump. Fortunately, no one attempted this death-defying feat. At least, I didn’t hear any screams.

As seems to happen every year, the older neighbours in the crowd seem to be able to out-last the younger. By younger, I am still talking 50ish. Even my own mother in Ontario was up until 4AM that night playing cards with her lady friends. I just hope that this ability will come naturally to me as I age. I would love to know the great secret to pacing myself, not just in the social aspects of my life, but also in all matters of the mind and body.

            It was a great night. Thank you to all of our great neighbours. Next year, if all goes as planned, our front yard shouldn’t be an obstacle course, and we would love to host again.