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My week’s highlight was not a ragey party with celebs and copious catering, but a suited-up gathering of 150 people at Bungalow8 on Monday at 6pm.

I only went along as I’d promised the promoter, but OMG was it inspirational. My cowboy boots, baggy jeans and pastel shirt stood out among the stern corporate faces, but luckily a couple of familiar ones beaconed out.

I was at a 40 Below (don’t confuse this with the vodka brand) rally. A semi-regular get together of forward thinking peeps from various industries, under 40 years old (a fair whack were not). A quick scan of the room and you’d automatically say bankers, lawyers and accountants ruled the land. I was the sole representative of the nightlife category, and managed to hold my own when approached and pressed by an MP, wanting to discuss her electorate in West Auckland.

You see this soiree doubled as a National Party supporters’ energizer. I’d heard John Key speak live a handful of times before and had been impressed every time. He didn’t fail again. He took the stage after Seeby Woodhouse’s stunning entrepreneurial rise to the top story. His 15 minute lesson was off the cuff, educated and moving. He’s got my vote later in the year, that’s for certain.

Prior to this stirring evening I’d had my usual smattering of things to attend. Toto’s for dinner on Wednesday for a deliciously decadent meal, coupled with a B&W Oscar classic movie. Shame the previous few days excursions caught up with me there, as I repeatedly nodded off in the second half; Awoken by my head jerking backward and smacking the top of my chair.

I’ve always loved comedy; from Happy Days to Rodney Rude and Billy T James, my early years were gleefully filled with the stuff. So nowadays I support the art wherever possible. Last Thursday I believe I went beyond the call of duty. My tickets were for table 6 (located in the front row of a sold-out show of 500 people), the show began as I was making my way to the table. Neil Delamere spotted me instantly as perfect fodder. He assumed I was gay, due to my attire and choice of beverage. Thought the female company I had was way out of my league, and when he found out my vocation he was over the moon. So for the next 2 hours I was his (so to speak). To make reparations for the discomfort he’d caused, he organised a big happy birthday (one of the slices of info he’d gleaned from me) box, and a bunch of helium balloons. He presented this as he closed the performance, my fresh hatred for the tiny Irishman evaporated instantly.

It wasn’t the Nun’s & Priests house party in a St Mary’s Bay convent, nor the complimentary Agaveros at Flight Lounge, it wasn’t even the exclusive elusive birthday bash at Clooney, but it was the grand opening of the first upmarket bar in K’ Rd (I can’t think of any others). I’d been put in charge of the guest list, and tweaking the venue for the night. Everything ended up being perfect, the vibe that mix of people created was electric. Like all my gigs, many business and personal relationships were forged. The highlight was the DJ, who goes by the name “Lyle”, he kept the party at top speed for the 5 hours that I was there, and showed no signs of tiring when I left.

I chose not to drink on Saturday, a fortunate decision seeing I was breathalysed as I headed for bed. Before this I’d been to 2 house parties. One in an exposed garage, with plastic cups and ice in the sink, the other in a toasty home, where everything was on inside but still people chose to congregate at the end of the section. We went to Pasha for Mr Howe’s 36th (plus plus) birthday party. Harry had been at it for 4 hours by the time we arrived, so his smile was as wider than the wingspan of the new Boeing. I’m told he was at Spy till 6 then played a game of league at 9. What a trooper.

I felt good on “the day of rest”. My sister flew into town mid-morning, so we spent the day playing around the CBD. We ate at Bollywood in Ponsonby that evening (a first for both of us). The 45min experience was tasty, yet over attentive and the large movie projection on the wall was a fun distraction when the conversation drooped to, “I wonder if it will stop raining tomorrow?” I dropped her back at her hotel just in time for “Greys”, and I trucked on to Bar 3, in SkyCity, to see Nathan Haines perform with his international band of friends. My eyelids wilted around 11.15pm, but by this stage the bar was easily the busiest in the city, people were dancing and Heinekein was being hungrily consumed.

That was my week, well the bits I can share with you. If you’d ever like to know more, drop me a line, I always love hearing from friends I’ve not met yet.