It was the big Hero Festival in Auckland on Saturday night, the New Zealand Mardi Gras equivalent, principally for the gay and lesbian communities. Standing at the end of our road outside One Red Dog on Ponsonby Road we had the perfect view of a multitude of naked arses, dykes on bikes, fire-breathing transvestites and all sorts. Top entertainment. My personal favourite was the naked dancing woman on top of a big float, her modesty saved only by a coat of gold paint. But that’s because I’m a pervert.
We then went down to our next-door-neighbour’s bar Kenny’s on K Road for the karaoke night. He’d promised us free beer so how could we refuse? It was karaoke night and, buoyed by the party atmosphere, Helen and I did a passable “Delilah” (in honour of her Welshness) before I disgraced myself by singing “Country House” in an Essex boy accent, a few beers later. I’m still shuddering at the thought of it.
Rich’s now upped-sticks and is off to Whitianga on the Coromandel penninsula for the start of his Kiwi Experience trip round New Zealand. Rather suspiciously Helen has also gone on a two-day holiday up there too. “Helen and Richard up a tree, K I S S I N G…”