Four days to Hogmanay: a Scotland that cares

Four days before Hogmanay, Scotland feels like a country holding its breath. The streets glisten with frost after what feels like weeks of rain, a growing number of hills wear their winter shawls, and the air oozes with anticipation. The rush of Christmas has ebbed, leaving behind a quieter rhythm and a time for reflection, for counting what matters, for dreaming what might yet be.

Hogmanay is not just another New Year’s Eve. It is a threshold, a liminal space steeped in tradition. We sweep the hearth, we lay out coal and shortbread, we wait for the first-foot – that lucky soul who crosses the door after midnight, bearing gifts of warmth and sustenance. Bells will ring from church steeples and smartphones alike, whisky will pour amber into glasses, voices will rise in song.

But beneath the revelry lies something deeper: a belief in renewal, in the possibility of beginning again.

And so, as we stand on the cusp of 2026, we ask the question that Hogmanay demands: What will we carry forward? What will we leave behind?

This past year has been a hard one for social care. We have seen dedicated workers stretched thin, families navigating impossible choices, and communities stepping in where systems faltered. We have heard the language of crisis so often it has become a drumbeat. And yet amid the strain there were and are today sparks of light. Neighbours checking in. Volunteers delivering meals. Carers delivering compassion even in the fragments of commissioned time. Care homes finding creative ways to keep hope and joy alive. These moments remind us that social care is not a service to be rationed; it is the heartbeat of our humanity.

As Hogmanay approaches, we are invited to make resolutions. Too often, they are about waistlines and wallets, about doing more, being better. But what if this year, our resolutions were about something deeper? About the kind of Scotland we want to wake up to on January 1st – a Scotland where care is not a postcode lottery but a shared promise.

Here are three resolutions for a Scotland that cares:

  1. Speak of care as infrastructure. Care is not an optional extra; it is the foundation of a good society. Let us resolve to talk about social care with the same urgency as roads and schools because without it, nothing else stands.
  2. Invest in people, not just systems. Technology can help, but it cannot replace the human touch. Let us resolve to honour and reward those who care, the professionals and unpaid carers alike, and to do so with fair pay, respect, and recognition.
  3. Make community our first footing. Hogmanay’s tradition of first-footing reminds us that the first person through the door brings luck for the year ahead. What if our first step in 2026 was towards deeper community? Towards knowing our neighbours, supporting local initiatives, and weaving networks of kindness?

Picture it: the bells ringing out across Edinburgh, their echoes tumbling down the closes and wynds. The clink of glasses in kitchens from Shetland to Stranraer. The hush before midnight, when the old year lingers like smoke and the new year waits like a promise. A lump of coal on the hearth, symbol of warmth and continuity. A dram of whisky passed from hand to hand, the colour of hope. Laughter spilling into the frosty night as doors open to welcome the first-foot, carrying gifts of bread and salt, symbols of sustenance and friendship.

This is Hogmanay: a ritual of connection, a declaration that we belong to one another. And if that is true in our homes, should it not also be true in our policies, our priorities, our politics?

For me, Hogmanay is never just about fireworks or whisky. It is about standing in the cold night air, listening for the bells, and asking: What kind of Scotland do I want to wake up to? My answer is simple: one where no one feels forgotten. Where social care is not a crisis but a covenant. Where the measure of success is not GDP but the dignity of every life.

Four days to Hogmanay. Four days to decide what matters. What will your resolutions be? And how will they help build a Scotland where social care is not just a service, but a shared value?

Hogmanay is a time for words as well as deeds. So I leave you with this:

New Year

No fireworks needed, no grand display,

just a quiet shift from night to day.

A message sent, a hand held near,

a whispered truth: We’re still here.

Forget the lists that fade by March,

the hollow vows, the rigid arch.

Begin instead with what is real,

a promise made, a wound to heal.

Not coal, but care to light the fire,

not luck, but love to lift us higher.

Bring voices strong, bring laughter clear,

bring hope enough to last the year.

The future waits – no distant star,

it starts with us, right where we are.

So open wide the door of now,

and let the new year teach us how.

Donald Macaskill

Photo by Chris Flexen on Unsplash