Party Like It's 1969

My Dear Princess & Dear Fellows,

It was off to Nelson today to help OrkneyCaro celebrate her 50th birthday with her husband G-Man. 

We actually arrived really early in the day. Nelson is such a pretty place, me and Caro just wanted to poke about and have a good look. We both agreed that we could see ourselves living here one day. It would be okay with me. Caro reckons it is much closer in vibe to Mount Maunganui when she was growing up. 

The Mount, she says, is losing its personality, being swallowed up by Tauranga. Which itself is being swallowed up by Auckland. She says she barely recognises the place now. 

Nelson, on the other hand, boasts a beautiful climate, lovely beaches and has that vaguely hippy feeling that a lot of NZ towns have. We wandered through their markets and I was amused at products being sold at the "Shaggery Farm" stall. I wanted to buy Shaggery butter just for the label, but no, Symon, be strong.

Then we stopped by their Cathedral (see extra) for brunch and had a nice sit in the shade. We had left Wellington in the pishing rain and arrived on a beautiful day in Nelson.

The party was a hoot. We were reunited with Cath and Dave, mates we hadn't seen since 2004. It's funny how meeting up with people like that temporarily takes the years off. We were soon up and grooving to hits of that time, like "Take Me Out" and "Hey Ya!"* We even danced with Freya, C&G's teenage daughter who was probably busy being born about the time that song came out.

G-Man, as always, was hilarious. Pished as a fart from hour one of the party, he went around showing everyone his muscular frame (he's taken up open-sea swimming and is a magnificent specimen of manhood). "Just look at these nipples mate," he announced, rubbing himself like a seal on the beach. "My missus is a very lucky woman." He did this all night. Caro has pictures.

He then gave a speech about OrkneyCaro, "She's always been an absolute pleasure to me," he announced before realising what he had said while the crowd roared with approval. "Sorry Raggy," he said, apologising to his traumatised son.

To be fair, there was a certain amount of drink being drunk by all of us. Cath (it transpires) now works for a wine tour company and issued us with strict instructions to "get your arses onto the next ferry and book yourselves in with us". Obviously I was very compliant.

So it was a good evening of wine, beer, whisky and other things. I suspected that the next morning I might not feel quite so early 21st century anymore and the weight of the last 15 years may come crashing back down. But hey, we were once all ridiculous together and sometimes it is worth visiting ridiculous again.

As I said; one day I may choose to live there.

S.

* Don't want to meet your daddy. Just want you in my Caddy.