James Brown and

Before the details slip my mind I ought to jot down a few words about last week. A week with two weekends, which, I have to say, was quite a treat. The first happened on Wednesday, when Kirstin and I flew to Auckland to bare witness to James Brown, the Godfather of soul, the hardest working man in show business blardy-blardy bla. Had I not seen him a mere 3 metres away from me in the St James' Theatre (kinda fitting don't you think) I wouldn't have believed it to be true. Admititly he isn't the man he used to be, but at 71 who is? But he can still control an audience; and has a syle and presence that you can acutually touch. These days anyone can look like a superstar: all you need is a t shirt, a pair of jeans and a scruffy pair of trainers; but when JB and his entourage of about 16 rock up in blue double breasted suits, red cumberbunds and bowties you know you are in for a treat. And it certainly was just that.
Thursday was spent wandering around the city centre, doing a fine effort at getting myself some new threads-man. With Eyre being better dressed than me over the wedding week I felt I have to be proactive. I did well. Part two will continue when Sian and I head north in a few weeks. I can't wait.
The second weekend was more predictable, with a surprise birthday party for Belinda (surprise surprise it was a 'B' party), followed by a 60's party the same evening (that semed to be full of Ninjas...Which I gather was something to do with an 'N' party earlier on). Maybe oneday people will host parties without a letter of the alphabet, where you can meet someone you will recognise in the street afterwards...
And now some painting. It has been an absolute age since I held a brush I had better get stuck in. Until next time <3