Pistachio nougat

I have always had real trouble celebrating New Year's Eve.  A family bereavement when I was 24 at this time of year put me off the celebrations going on around me and I have never really recovered from it. In past years I have become a degree or two more enthusiastic, and set up family parties and games evenings, consisting largely of 6 hour Cluedo games, a brief break to watch Big Ben chime and fireworks explode over the Thames via BBC1, a quick look outside at crass neighbourhood fireworks, a glass of champagne, and back to the Cluedo before bedtime at around 2am. The death of my sister has made this time of year even more introspective for me.  But I do also feel as if I am beginning to emerge out of the chrysalis of shock and hurt in which I have been shrouded ever since we lost her. I may not want to come out of it, I may even resist it by indulging in the most painful recollections I can bring to mind of her last days, but it does not stop the inevitable reconnection with the future that I think must be like an automatic switch in our brains. At some point my brain has decided that enough is enough. It is time to stop hurting and begin healing. Last week I put out on a shelf a picture of my sister for the first time. This is not something I have been able to do at all. But I found one of her, and my younger sister, and me, and I loved it because it captured my memory of being the middle of three sisters and not what I am now, the eldest of two - and I put it on a shelf where I could see and be comforted by it. I have looked at it every day since and the comfort continues. The loss is still there, it's still strong; but the pain feels as if it is being balanced somehow. So today, on New Year's Eve, I asked my husband if he would come out with me. We slushed our way through a damp and partly flooded Hampstead Heath. We joined our fellow middle classers for a skinny latte at Carluccio's, which we then subsequently raided for gifts. We nibbled on their plates of cut up pannettone. I discovered a pistachio nougat, which I tried, and immediately developed a passion for - I bought one, but will almost certainly be back at the end of the week for more. Who can resist a green slab of sticky almond and vanilla sugar??? We wandered up the street, into the bookshop, and browsed.  We headed back to the car with our bags of sticky Italian goodies, and came home. I sat at the table with a cup of tea, and thought.  Next year, I wanted these things. I wanted to bake a decent triple layer meringue cake. I wanted to quit my scuzzy gym in the City and find a way to exercise that did not involve airless basements and sweaty, slippery equipment. But mostly, I wanted to look forward. Starting with an outing this weekend to stock up on pistachio nougat.  That is my road to healing in 2014.