It was a while in the making but this Saturday night at Forte is my 32nd birthday party. Everyone who receives my weekly guide is welcome, just RSVP to me (if you haven’t already) and I’ll pop you, and your guests, on the door-list.

Thursday started like any other, an autumn nip in the air, office duties and then it got really rather good. I was dined at lunch by a dashing young star at a restaurant I’d wanted to attend ever since moving here, and then the only love of my life came to mine for nibbles and vino. Others stopped by and things became heated (in a good way).

We convoyed to town. First stop, Pasha for Remix Magazine’s soiree to celebrate their autumn edition. My theory that any party will be a goody if you get the right mix of people, tested true once again. Elevated spirits were universally rampant.

The cornerstone of almost all my nights out came into play next. “Shake” at SpyBar got humming about 12 and was going nuts by the time Suz and I had a mild tiff and moved to quieter quarters to resolve things.

The next day saw events unfold that were worthy of a Jerry Springer episode. Let’s just say I have no idea how to stage successful relationships with women. So Friday was quite dark, and I couldn’t wait for it to end. When Saturday finally unfurled I was relieved and free of a common, alcohol created, splitting head-ache: things were looking up. Body Attack at Les Mills sorted some frustrations, and crystal counselling from educated friends dealt with more.

I think there’s an unwritten rule about boat parties; something like: you will always have a blast no matter what. Saturday night at 20:10 one Fullers ferry, with half its seats ripped out, set sail with 300 people in its belly. I hadn’t been to a party and known fewer people in almost 3 years, so for the first 2 hours I immersed myself in CC & D and sharpened my observational skills. I was prime candidate for the “Oldest Person on the Vessel” award. Most were barely of school leaving age so comparing them to me at that age was a hoot. It was plain to see also that many had stocked up on party pills before the recent ban, as some actions and words appeared to be inhuman.

With 2 hours to go the music got me going. Andy Crump, back-to-back with Rich Carey saw the gaps on the dancefloor fill, and when DJ Shaveer took over for the final set and played continuous apt anthem remixes, I didn’t want it to end.

It did. At midnight we made the short walk to Seba for Mint. The contrast in attendees was vivid and welcome. The Disco Diva’s had the crowd glowing on our arrival, and when Sample Gee took the helm the party vibe went into overdrive. Some guy had a t-shirt with “Who the hell is Sample Gee” on the front of it. If there was anyone there who didn’t know who he was at the start of his set, by 3am they sure did. Mint’s on the first Saturday of every month for the foreseeable future. If you missed this one, and you like retro house and great times, come along on May 3rd.

The concept of 2 cherished interests of mine amalgamating caught my eye, and I had to see it in person. A’tracked is a new bimonthly dance party at 4:20 on K’ Rd. It takes in electronic music and contemporary art.  Again the crowd demographic was marked, and again welcome. Skilled abstract art dotted the walls; by the looks of things half were sold which is always good. The thing that really caught my eye was the visuals. One of the promoters is a well travelled vixen who loves taking photos, so behind the DJ on a large screen weren’t the usual psycadelic bright colours and morphing mind-bending images, instead ticking over were hundreds of captivating, professional-looking pictures of the world, adding to the event’s existing sophistication.

It felt like another long weekend, probably because of the clocks going back an hour. Eek winter’s round the corner (great if you’re an elk or ice sculptor, terrible if you’re like me and love everything that summer stands for). The only plus about this clock adjustment is that the Red Bull Daylight Savings party is on at Grey Lynn Park.

Stupidly we arrived an hour late so the party was already swarming. We circled a bit before settling down somewhere near the middle. It was brilliant to see everyone on form, relaxed and enjoying the few final rays of summer heat.

The event was over at 5.30pm; far too soon. My saying of “Always go while the going’s good” could have taken a back seat just this once, I was having a ball. An after party in close proximity was the only answer. Once located, we were greeted by Reuben, an 8 year old adorable Golden Retriever, and ushered in by some fun guide getters. The hospitality was faultless. When the mozzies began to nip we took cover in the hot tub on the deck. On the way back to find the car we couldn’t turn down one more party invitation and I was extra eager when I found out it was at 19 Chamberlain St. I’d lived there for a year when I first came to town, so was interested to see the changes. One flatmate from my time still existed, and the colours had all altered, but it was still the same old loveable pad that could tell many tales of illicit escapades.

The second to last stop was Malt Bar, the official after party for the Grey Lynn Park gig. We stayed for one and caught up with some familiar happy faces. A couple of NRL Warriors players, fresh from a timely win a couple of hours earlier, were downing some cold celebratories. I didn’t know their names but they looked established and famous.

Winding down, I was dropped off in the Beaumont Quarter at a friend’s apartment to see the end of Grey’s Anatomy, have a night cap, and catch up on the goss. I did most of the talking, but did find out that my host had been banned from SpyBar for a month the previous night for being lippy to the owner. When will she ever learn 

My large rollercoaster weekend ended with a warming cup of Earl Grey, and me laughing at my abnormally social cat who loves chasing shadows.