Soon Hub and I shall be decorating our house for Christmas.
We like to be early to look forward. As soon as the big day is over, I’m so
ready to take down my decs. Last year on Boxing day, the day after Christmas, I
was getting the boxes ready to start to dismantle everything. To Hubs horror. He
wanted to wait until New Years day, which is not like him, he’s normally like
me, but most people in our avenue of all sorts, put the decorations up later
and down much later. I always say the same. They are decorations for Christmas,
not called New Year decorations,
I dislike New Year immensely. I could quite easily just sit
at home with Hub and watch TV. Even going to bed before midnight. Is there a
Bah Humbug version of New Year?
The funny thing is,
loads of my friends dislike that time of year too. We have been invited out for
New Year, but to be honest, I’m so not feeling it…
New Year is just people who want to get as drunk as they can
and snog a total stranger dressed as a chicken. People who promise to do all
sorts keeping in touch through out the new year who never bother again. Until the
next year. People who wish everyone a happy new year but don’t give a stuff if
they have a happy one or not. Hahaha. See, Bah Humbug!!!
I used to love New Year in Russia. It was exciting. And I was
young enough to believe in promises. Also, there were no kissable chickens in
sight.
In a country full of dirty snow and bleak skies, elderly
ladies looking very angry and torturous eye treatment, a sparkle at New Year
was much needed. The thought of Ded Moroz, Grandfather Frost turning up at the
hotel I stayed at, absolutely drunk out of his skull, gave such amusement to my
teenage years.
I had two days off my treatment. A good start. I would go to
the hairdressers in our hotel. It would be something like 4 roubles towards the
end of the eighties, about £4. My Mum would always have a choice of beautiful
dresses for me to pick. I never got a choice of clothes when I was young, not
when bought, but I had the pick of my Mums selection that she packed in our
huge suitcase. This particular year one of my most favourite New Years of all
time, I had a Russian boyfriend. He was tall and so very handsome. Everywhere we
went together, girls/women used to eat him with their eyes and their voices
would be like melting chocolate around him! I used to feel so proud to be with him. He worked
as a model but we met at the hotel where I stayed each visit. He said he would
like to see what I was wearing for our night. I had three dresses that year.
One was a beautiful cream lace short dress without sleeves. The other was a
very long pale green dress that was floaty more like a bridesmaid’s dress. My least
favourite. I was hoping he would not have picked that one as he said he would
like to be the one who decided… and the third, my favourite was a very long straight
silky dress. Again, shoestring straps with a very figure-hugging bodice which
really showed off my figure. I had one in those days. It was what we call teal
now days, but back then I think it was called sea green.
I had gold four-inch heels. So, into the cockroach bathroom,
but don’t worry, as they ran when I turned on the light… change and out. So, I put
on my favourite dress first, the teal one. Stood there. Looked at my Boyfriend,
he smiled and just looked through my soul with his steely blue eyes. I still in
my mind see his face. He was the most handsome of all men. I melted at his
glance. His presence was a lifetime gift as far as I was concerned.
My second dress after getting no comment from that one, was
the very revealing lace one. I stood before him. Again, he smiled. I turned to
walk away as he wasn’t going to say yes to that one, as he was very protective,
or jealous if any other man would talk to me, so no way he would be happy me
wearing that.
I put on the frumpy all cover up one… felt like I had lost a
bride. Walked out and to my horror, he walked over to me. Took my hand. Kissed the
back of it. With his other hand, he turned up the old-fashioned tape machine I
used to take to Russia for some western comfort of music, and with that same
hand. He placed his hand on the small of my back put a kiss into my neck and
gently danced with me. At the end of the dance, I wanted to take off that dress
and put on my jeans. Then put away frumpy dress number three. Hang up dress
number two and on the back of the hotel room chair, lay the dress number one,
the one I was going to wear that night….
He and I were like peas in a pod. We thought alike.
Oh.
Until he told me I would be the most beautiful girl at the
dance that night.
In my bright green floaty, frummmmmpy dress.
Nonononononononono
But,
Yep.
He wanted me to wear that blooming awful thing.
I would do anything he asked of me. I was his puppet. He pulled
my strings that night.
Later on, I asked him why that dress?
He replied.
“your body is only for me to see…””
Okey dokey
I still danced the night away with lots of guys from
Georgia. I was far from flirtatious, I just adored dancing. And the best fun
was either the delegations from Mexico, with their guitars and forever
singsongs, or Georgians who were always so much fun.
Champagne was a flow and I laughed and had so much fun with
many friends who I had known for years. Genuine people. Once I got to know
Russian people, I understood most of them and all they wanted to do in their
rather repressed life was be happy. And for New Years Eve, we were all so
happy. Sadly, reality had to wake up and life once again began!
© Fiona Cummings
