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fun.”
    “Right, okay,” Trent replied, relieved he hadn’t had to confess his ignorance. “Well, thank you very much for thinking of me, but I don’t want to intrude on your time with your family.”

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    New Culture, New Year, New Love S. Blaise

    “Don’t be daft! I’m inviting you, it’s no trouble. And I had more than enough time with them already over Christmas. Annie has a big family, and there will be others there, friends and so on. And don’t worry; it won’t be full of old folks. A lot of my nieces and nephews are about your age.”
    “I – but – I don’t know any Scottish dances.”
    Mr. Vere laughed again. “We won’t be asking you to do a Highland Fling, don’t worry! The band calls the dances, takes everyone through the steps and makes sure they can follow along; it’s easy. So can I say you’ll be coming?”
    Trent considered it a moment longer. He had spent a quiet Christmas alone, catching up with friends and calling his family. He hadn’t really settled in enough to meet anyone besides those he worked with, never mind getting a social life yet. He’d spent Christmas alone; spending New Year’s alone as well would be really shameful. At least this would be something, even if it was his boss giving the invite.
    “I won’t have to wear a kilt, will I?”
    He heard the man’s throaty chuckle. “Only if you think you’ve got the legs for it, son. I’ll e-mail you the information and see you there. Oh, and don’t forget to try and get to the torchlight parade going through the town on the 29th. It’s quite a sight.”
    “Got it, I’ll remember. Thanks again.”

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    New Culture, New Year, New Love S. Blaise

    HE stood with others on Princes Street, the main street in the capital city of Edinburgh, waiting for the procession. It was dark, of course, and bitterly cold, but everyone seemed in a festive, expectant mood, wrapped up warm. He stood facing the shops with the vista of the Gardens, draped in shadows, at his back. Edinburgh Castle crouched on its steep incline in the distance behind him, ablaze with lights, and the screams from the carnival rides not too far away reached his ears. There came another sound, as he stood shivering and stamping his feet, the high, bracing wail of the bagpipe music, and he could see the multitude of lights heading towards them.
    At times like these Trent was always happy to be tall, getting a good view of any spectacle in a crowd. First there was a Viking ship being dragged along, about the length of two small cars, its sides decked in colourful shields, flanked by men dressed as Viking warriors, some carrying flaming torches or even axes. A few shouts and cheers sounded in the air, with the pipe and drum music, growing to deafening volume as it followed the boat. It stirred something in Trent’s blood, making his breath catch. Hundreds of torch bearers came after the players, bearing their lights aloft; they looked a bit like round wooden swords with the tip in flames.
    The many points of light formed a glowing river that streamed past him, the sea of faces smiling and looking happy, though a few were beginning to look tired by this 6
    New Culture, New Year, New Love S. Blaise

    point. There seemed to be all number of races and nationalities, all wanting to take part in this unusual celebration. A few cries of “Happy New Year!” were being shouted out already. It had an ancient, mystical feel to it, this burning flow of many fires striking back against the gloom of winter. At the end of it all the black sky above was blazing with booming multi-colored fireworks streaming and sparkling in the air. It was indeed a dramatic sight. Trent only wished, as he tore his eyes away from the show to glance at the crowd around him – couples cuddling close, parents with excited kids – that he had someone to share this experience with him.
    He sighed. That was always the problem, wasn’t it?
    His constant travelling made relationships difficult. He