HERE at the Diary we are always pleased to hear about customs and traditions from different parts of the world, and what better time to consider those associated with the start of the New Year?

Here in the UK the old tradition of the first footer crossing the threshold with a piece of coal and a branch of evergreen on the stroke of midnight has stood the test of time for generations, and it would seem that mainland Europe has its own set of curious customs.

A colleague has just returned from a holiday in southern Spain with tales of a tradition of a different kind.

This one involved scoffing grapes - 12 of them - each to be consumed as the clock strikes midnight at the turn of the year.

The idea is that for each chomped fruit you get good luck for a month of the coming year.

The scene was set in a Mediterranean town square crowded with locals and Brits watching a succession of acts on stage and waiting eagerly to usher in 2006.

The group had been assured they could buy the lucky grapes by the bunch from the bars in the square, but with midnight rapidly approaching and more and more drink being consumed this seemed less and less likely.

As the 12 bongs got under way Spaniards everywhere produced grapes from carriers and handbags and the gorging commenced. Most of the luck-starved group of Brits conceded defeat and decided the moment had passed.

Dancing commenced and more alcohol flowed. At this point one of the more superstitious members of the group - or perhaps the one who'd had more than enough grape juice - decided to head back to his apartment, where he knew he could find some grapes.

Thus began a drunken stumble back to the flat to raid the fridge, before Big Ben rang out the chimes back in Blighty, an hour later at 12am GMT.

Back at the flat with only minutes to spare the TV was switched on to BBC1, and bunch-loads of grapes were produced. One snag - these grapes were not seedless, and it was too late to stop.

There followed much choking, spluttering and finally spitting.

Only time will tell whether the process will bring good luck.

WE in the north often enjoy a dig at our southern neighbours, poking fun at their supposed ignorance of life outside the M25.

But it seems the criticism isn't without foundation.

Joining the London to Edinburgh train at York on New Year's Eve, an acquaintance of the Diary was caught up in signalling problems north of Newcastle, which delayed the journey by more than two hours and meant they didn't reach the Scottish capital until after 10pm.

However, the dismay was lightened by snippets of conversation overheard from fellow passengers, most of whom were heading to Edinburgh's famous Hogmanay street party.

No sooner had they left York than one of them declared that this was the furthest north he had been.

But that was topped by a woman on her mobile phone trying to calculate whether she would reach Edinburgh in time for the bells.

She said: "I've no idea when we'll get in, but we've just left some place called Newcastle so I think we must at least be in Scotland now."

Updated: 08:36 Monday, January 09, 2006