As a young child in the 50s in London we had Scottish neighbours. I was dark haired so I was always the First Footer, knocking on their door at midnight with a lump of coal, a small bowl of salt, and a piece of bread, and usually a box of chocolates or shortbread. They welcomed us very warmly (the husband in his kilt) and the New Year celebrations began. The alcohol flowed freely for the next few (several) hours to the sound of Scottish reels on the radio or Andy Stewart on TV. The furniture was rearranged to make room for dancing and stories of New Years past were retold. It was something I looked forward to after the slightly flat feeling that followed Boxing Day.
Eventually I was old enough to celebrate the New Year with my own friends which was very different - I won't even mention Piccadilly Circus, Trafalgar Square and the fountains!! But I always remember those First Footing years with great pleasure.