I turned 32 last Friday (the big party’s on April 12th, RSVP your name to me if you’d like to come) and the bars above all came to the party and looked after my friends and me royally.

Before all that though was Duran Duran at Vector on Wednesday, that was kicked off by a party at Dougal’s. Duran sang all the classics but with a modern edge. I danced the entire time and loved it. The industry moguls beside me were unimpressed with the sound, lighting, set-up, songs and artists and stormed off early, leaving me more room to party.

Guy Cater (master hypnotist) rode into town for a live show at The Kingslander on Thursday night. For 3 hours he had people eating out of his had. James Bond impersonators, horse jockeys, x-ray glasses it was all going down. At the same time down on Princes Wharf, Pasha was launching its molecular mixology cocktails; taste-ridden and really really good-looking. They are so intricate you can only buy them at certain times (due to the time needed to compile them). Picture bath gel balls of sweet coloured nectar effortlessly floating in a laden cocktail glass; very classy indeed.

Friday started with me rising early and seeing that I’d already missed 5 calls (3 from Mum and Dad). I raced downstairs and tore strips off the presents I’d been painstakingly hoarding. A nice array of handy, thoughtful goodies stood before me. Breakfast outdoors in Ponsonby with one of my oldest/bestest friends, Ree, followed. Then probably the most perfect lunch I’ve ever had, on the balcony at Vivace, where bubbles, conversation and flirtation gushed for 2 hours. We then went in search for an outfit for the evening’s gallivant. Trying a few, we chose an orange number from Man, on High St where the service was perfect, leaving me wanting more – could this day ever go wrong?

A sobering drive out to the airport to fetch my visiting sister put things back into perspective, and let me know clearly that this was “just another day” to the rest of Auckland. With the pick-up done it was full steam ahead to Pasha to launch into party mode. Over the next few hours around 20 friends came to join in, and on the way to the next port of call Auckland’s one and only gossip queen, Bridget Saunders and her photo-man Sam, stopped for a chat.  She was very chatty and complimentary. I was stunned and thankful.

Our jovial troop walked all over town visiting haunts that have looked after me over the past couple of years. We ended at my most frequented spot, Spy, where I almost lost another camera, but this time a friend saw my folly and swept in to rectify the fault. The day stayed magic right through till the following morning.

Feeling less than favourable I ventured to the steep slopes of Basque Park, in Newton, for the annual organic Phoenix Festival. It was full when I arrived, with people from all demographics chilling in the piercing sun, and packed when my sunburnt, stumbling self left, as Kora belted out idyllic sounds to the shimmering crowd. The image that stands prominently with me is oddly, 2 grown kitted-out men, one a cowboy, the other an Indian, playfully frolicking amongst the peeps on their hobby-horses trying to capture one another.

Later on Saturday night I headed to Split Enz.  History Never Repeats was their final song, Shark Attack their first. They had 3 funky fluro backdrops, white suits and boarded the stage as one in an all-encompassing giant glob of glistening gold material. It was their last show of their 4 gig world tour of NZ, and they were well worth the $97 (pressie from the sis). The audience was a bit bizarre (but yet so is the band, so it makes sense), definitely middle-class to blue-collar and not experienced concert goers. Etiquette was all up the wok, and about half stayed seated for the duration.

Pony looked promising when we ducked down, but my accomplice was feeling extremely under the weather, so I abandoned planned visits to the Hed Kandi and Oxygen dance parties, and cared for the ailing sibling. I am told though that Asta rebounded well from past party flops to host Hed Kandi DJ’s Jack McCord and Steve Divine who went into orbit with the pumping crowd following suit. And Oxygen, after a minor technical glitch at midnight, went on to see blinding sets from internationals Ehren Stowers and Simon Patterson. I saw video footage of this party and regret not going for even 30 minutes; the visuals were world class and the uplifting tunes coupled with smiling faces looked like heavenly bliss.  That’s cool though as I had a hang-over free Sunday. I wandered the Takapuna Markets, my favourite Auckland bazaar, all morning, then moved on to show the sis Devonport’s sights before stopping for an early lunch at The Esplanade. The 45min trek to the airport was bearable, the goodbye was tough, but she’ll be back before long I feel sure.

This left me just enough time to visit George FM’s Free Parking #5 in Herne Bay. Arriving at 4ish I ran into some friends that’d been up from the previous night, they were in pretty good shape considering what they’d obviously been through. The masses were happy-go-lucky and enjoying the beats being laid down by the GFM boys. Dancing barefoot to funky tunes, a cold beer firmly in grasp, with friends among trees is one of my favourite pastimes. I just need more opportunities.

Monday was a mare. I had another prang in the Primera. Anyone got a spare silver front bumper? Third party insurance just doesn’t cut it for me anymore. Luckily the evening was filled with laughter as I watched a cheesy DVD with a fun friend, eating more than my share of full-fat buttered pop-corn and ending the reign of my lucky last Easter egg.