Editorial: 50th party reminder of foibles

A FRIEND celebrated his 50th birthday at his almost renovated home in a wealthy Auckland suburb recently. Talk about flash - and that was just the cars parked outside.
On arrival, our host looked stressed and was barely capable of taking in birthday congratulations. It came as no surprise to those who know him, when we heard the afternoon had seen a bomb site transformed.
Bay connections were everywhere and I was immediately engaged in discussion about the state of newspapers and Hawke's Bay Today's recent APN awards. After a long drive that afternoon, office talk wasn't high on my agenda, so we headed outside to the deck.
A former Bay man, who I did Territorial basic training with nearly 30 years ago, popped over for a chat. A successful mover in the wine industry, like many of that ilk he's a big man, particularly skilful at getting to the bar and back without apparent wear and tear.
He was not long returned from a business trip to the US, where he had caught up with Matisse Reid's family who he said were doing well.
His nod to Auckland, and maybe Napier roots, was family involvement in Optimist yachting.
Famed bluesman Hammond Gamble provided the background music, and I reminded him that he played my wedding back in 1995. He remembered the not-so-wealthy suburb of "Glenfield with [Hello Sailor's] Harry [Lyon]".
I informed him that I had rung him for a quote last year on supporting Fleetwood Mac back in 1980, to include in my "Worst Ever Concert" column. It ended up on Stevie Nicks' website.
The gist of his response this time was that he and his bandmates thought they were living the ultimate Rock lifestyle, but realised they were babes in the woods on encountering the Mac.
As the pinot gris, pinot noir and chardonnay worked its magic - incongruously there was Tui also - tongues loosened.
A 60-something woman, always immaculately turned out, expressed a distaste of growing old. Not even my compliments could change that.
The female company, naughty and wicked, were soon playing "spot the bachelor's ex-partners". When they'd got to ... let's say "a few", including the mother of my friend's two sons, they asked for my input.
I said cheekily, and knowingly, to one: "Are you in that group?". Eventually she confessed. Despite my protestations she then offered a blow by blow account of their relationship to the present day.
It never fails to amaze how people will tell you more than you have a right to know.
Later, another woman told me how wonderful it was that I danced with my wife. "My husband never dances with me," she confided. I had to assuage her annoyance because it was the pinot gris, not me doing the dancing - that should have been obvious.
A pizza company was on hand dishing out delicious pizzas all night long, fresh crayfish picked up that day from Mahia was on the menu - the other half were living well!
The birthday boy? He made a reluctant speech, nicely working in his departed parents. I saw his former representative prop brother-in-law have a moment.
The 50-year-old didn't say much to us. We didn't get to say much to him.
And as we left, his normally clean living self was out the front of the house smoking.
Raising the half century - a time to catch up, a reminder of life's foibles and the passage of time ... did I mention noise control shut down the music!