Over the past 4 weeks I’ve managed to dress up as Santa, compete in an avant garde fashion show, cause a bus to break down, play a woman ranked 4th in the world and shatter a bottle of Absolute in hospital.

It began nostalgically, 8 days before December 25th, in Christchurch, eating the icing from the top of the Christmas cake, and leaving the dark raisiny bit below for Mum. It was good to be ‘home’, it always is, the 7 star service is unbeatable.

Following 2 days of acclimatisation I was whisked down the line for a day trip to Timaru on relative duties. It’d been years since I’d seen the rellies, I even met a couple of the freshly hatched ones for the first time. On the return hike I put the finishing touches to my Qantas international travel writer entry. Where in 250 words, or less, you had to describe a true incident that spurred your desire for travel. My result is below…

“I remember sitting in the front row of Mr Williams’s Classics class in my final year at school, when he colourfully described the ancient Greek Gods. My favourite was Zeus.

10 years later, wanting a break from my London girlfriend, the offer from a fine filly friend to tag along on her mental breather escape, to Crete, appeared to be just the answer.

The Mediterranean island was more arid than I’d expected customs slacker and locals friendlier. We rested by the pool for the remainder of that afternoon reading brochures.

Leaving the filly to shop, I began my quest. I’d read that my hero Zeus’s birthplace was in a remote cave 45km inland. With a complimentary map clenched in one hand, and fingers crossed on the other, I set off on my hired nifty 50 I’d named Maverick.

Vehicles screamed past on the highway, white-knuckled I puttered on. At one stage I found myself up a deserted track, with an overheated engine. After multiple reassuring deep breaths I sort shade, reclined, grinned and reflected about where in the world I actually was. Lost on a Mediterranean island, sunburnt (to the point of blistering), and in search of a mythical God’s manger, this was awesome.

Maverick cooled off and we continued. The descent into the damp dark cavern was electrifying. I imagined what it may have been like when it housed such a powerful entity. My thirst for adventure and discovery had begun, now it needs regular quenching.”

I’m waiting to hear back from the jury, I suspect it’ll be ‘when the cows come home’ or when the moon turns blue, as on inspecting the T&C I uncovered you had to be an Ozzie citizen to enter. I sent it regardless, as you never know.

The next large fun spike in my break’s timeline was just prior to Xmas. I drove to Sumner to a house party, but I went covered top to toe in a Santa get-up. Mental note: Don’t go into a busy supermarket dressed as a giver of joy on a Saturday evening, especially with jingle bells attached to your gumboots. After giving the nagging kids the slip I turned up to the gig, was met by a concerned look, then laughter. When the night left us and daylight crashed the party we were asked to leave the pool and beat it. For some reason we ventured to Lancaster Park (aka Jade & AMI Stadium), through a stroke of luck the barbed gate had been left ajar and we moon-walked onto the pitch and had a few Summer Ales in The Black Caps’ honour.

The 25th was family fun, but why do I insist on having a late night on Xmas eve? The 2 pie $5 deal, and 35min sobering dawn stroll through Hagley Park doesn’t leave me refreshed and rearing to take on the next day like it did a decade ago.
There were 4 more exceptional moments leading up to today. The Boxing Day races at Ellerslie Racecourse, the NYE party at Matakana, whacking a ball around with Elena Dementieva and Summadayze at Vector.

An 11th hour double Windsor knot lesson by a crowd random gave me the motivation to leap the fence and strut my stuff in the avant garde section of the mens best dressed in the Viva fashion zone. I didn’t win, that accolade went to some Autobot, but I did manage to tear my left adductor magnus when I pulled my trademark ‘Raindrop’ dance move on the see through staging.

Overall it was the best day at the races that I’ve ever had in this country. The free-for-all boot-party in the inner racetrack was so much fun that when our mini dance party got shut down at 6pm I insisted that we all leave and reignite everything at mine. Which we did, until that to was closed down.

The only let down with the New Years music festival at Matakana was that it wasn’t long enough. After the months of build-up, feverish expectation and regimented preparation, I, like many others, could have done with an extra day, or 2, of festival good times. I am sure this will be rectified for next year. My highlight for the excursion was oddly the en route breakdown of my hired 55 seater bus halfway up a hill. For almost an hour we waited on the side of the road soaking in the sun playing drinking games, attempting to hitch (some succeeded) and watching the world go by.

I took a good 2 days and nights to recover after the NYE aftermath spree, so the ASB Women’s Tennis Classic tournament was a nice way to ease back into society. I was amazed at the athleticism and power of the ladies, no woman impressed me more than Elena Dementieva, her hulking sex appeal and tennis finesse was astounding. I was so dazzled by Elena I tailed her to the practice courts after her straight sets win, watched her swing for another hour, then as she finished up I offered my services. She’d noticed my friendly attention so obliged, knowing that she’d make my tennis career complete.

Lastly, and most recently, Auckland saw Calvin Harris, Boys Noize, Utah Saints, Kid Millionaire and The Potbelleez grace us by performing at Summadayze. They played where the sun didn’t shine though, inside the giant Vector Arena, thankfully as the Gods weren’t happy and rained down with great vengeance and furious anger. 3 pre parties later we turned up and ducked backstage, instantly the DJ told me to get up on stage behind the decks and pretend to mix, so I did. He ran off to the loo, returning seemingly hours later.

The night shone on, each international act better than the previous one. We got to the Utah Saints and halfway into their set my date turned ill, due to playing lethal straight rum drinking games with a seasoned Potbelleez gent. She did well, her never say die attitude very nearly took him out. But it was the paramedics that took her out, and I had my first ride in an ambulance.

I knew she’d want to continue the party when she came around, so I ordered in some vodka and ginger ale. The only problem was though that the kind delivery person dropped everything while pouring me a relaxing nip, they scarpered and I took the wrap on the chin. 4 hours later we were asked to leave and Sunday was spent in the recovery position piecing the night together.