The Dangers of Partying with 70 Year Olds in New Zealand

There is Ibiza. There is Phi Phi. There is Reyjkavik and Prague and Porta Banus. These party capitals of the world where adolescents, and pre-nuptial, and pre-natal "me" generationers think they are "it" and that they have "arrived", partying and clubbing and raving until another time zone has been achieved. But The Nav - having lived and loved and survived close to 5 decades, 4 continents, a myriad of countries, and a melange of night spots will die knowing just one thing. You haven't truelly lived unless you've partied with a big band of superannuant 70 year olds !

This statement is probably met by a look of consternation, confusion, and cynicism,

but recently The Nav attended 'The Party to End All Parties' in "Godzone Country", and he shares the shenanigans by seniors with you now

(The Nav's Ed Note : Godzone Country is short for God's Own Country, or if you are a New Zealander we know it as New Zealand)

In Hong Kong a large manila envelope arrived on The Nav's desk at work. Opening it he realized it was an invitation to his Mum's 70th birthday party in Auckland New Zealand. Looking at his diary he realized that he had the whole week-end free. Looking at the Cathay Pacific web-site he realized he could get air miles seats. Looking at life he still thought no, 11,000 miles in 3 days to have a quick knees up with some sozzled superannuants!? What a crazy thought! Totally irresponsible! And then his Mum phoned

"Hello darling. How are you? Did you get my birthday party invite? Did you like the Africa / New Zealand theme ? My one connection with Kenya in my childhood I'm afraid. I know you can't make it but your father and I just wanted to make sure all our children were invited. Your father's organized caterers, there are over 50 of our friends coming, and we've rented a juke-box!"

Now The Nav's had alot of invites to soirees in his time, some good, some bad, and some he can't remember - but that last statement was the clincher! A jukebox, in our family garden, the vision of over 50 superannuants dressed up like Travolta and Newton-John doing "The Chicken Walk" and "The Fever".

A knock at the front door, the local constabulary entering and asking that the music be turned down as there have been complaints from local teenagers saying they have to work in the morning and can we knock off all the racket

A cabal of male, whisky-fuelled, testosterone tanked retired professionals and company executives and entrepreneurs heckling the police with "Bugger off!", and "Bunch of blouses!" and "Bloody party poopers!" While the women upstairs, ready to riot, busily trying to figure out how to make Molotov Cocktails using the remaining vodka sea-breeze. This The Nav just had too see. He had to be there! Another mission beckoned

And so unbeknownst to his folks The Nav snuck down to Auckland via the jet stream. Arriving in this largest Polynesian city on Earth on a Saturday afternoon, on one of those glorious sunny warm and balmy Spring days when the main odour around town is freshly mowed lawn, The Nav climbed into a local taxi and was driven to his familial home. Bags in hand and kitted out in a big red birthday bow he knocked on the front door and was greeted by his beaming mother. "Happy birthday Mum." "Oh Freddy, you came."

(The Nav's Ed Note : The Nav and his siblings were named Charlie, Fred, George, and Paddy during our Mum's pregnancies before each of our births as a point of reference and before we had formal names and birth certificates. 'Fred', or on occasion ‘Freddy’, was the only name that stuck - which probably explains a lot of things about The Nav)

That Saturday afternoon was spent in the garden chatting and catching up over more than one beer and more than one wine. The jukebox was delivered and set-up, test run, and it had our small party partying a day early. And then at about 8pm The Nav passed out

And what about that jukebox? A stunning piece of hi-tech musicory more a self-contained purveyor of sound to people on 'e' and 'p' and 'ecstacy' than a temple to Bill Haley or Cliff Richards. Powered by Microsoft software, with thousands of favourite tunes sorted under such headings as 'Acid Jazz', 'House', 'Dance', and 'Euro', The Nav knew that this would be a rave to remember - his Mum and Dad pointing out the outside patio area where the "Line Dancing" would take place while The Nav reflected on how you line dance to 'House' music and 'Acid Jazz'

The following morning was breakfast and setting up and more sleep while recovering from jet lag. His Mum opening her family birthday gifts with many birthday cards, The Nav's favourite being -

"To hell with growing old gracefully. Let's have facelifts until our earlobes meet!"

Sunday was a day of setting up.

The bar, the garden, the food, the loos, and That Jukebox. And then at 4pm the superannuant “rolling thunder” began with herds of partyers descending on the garden and things were off. Dozens of bottles of champagnoise bubbly and sauvignon blanc and chardonnay and ‘Steinlager’ and ‘Stella Artoise’ warmed up the cockles of these many hearts. Two massive salmon had been smoked by The Nav’s Dad and these were scoffed in short order. Some singing, that line dancing, and a lot of loud banter ensued. But by 8pm it was over, the many guests swaying to their cars ready to run the gauntlet of Auckland's notorious traffic police

And afterwards a few hours tidying up, with The Nav's Dad dressed as from China's Boxer Rebellion in the 1850's, busily dropping empty bottles around the neighbourhood’s neighbours’ bottle bins, as our homes 44 gallon bin was full to the gunwales!

Then a quiet Monday morning, ham and eggs and tea. A lift to the airport. Tearful good-byes but with a reminder we would see each other again in six weeks for our extended families Christmas New Year reunion - soon to be reported on by The Nav as "A Swinging time in Singapore, and how to break the law but still avoid Changi Prison". Onto the Cathay Pacific 747 and then the long trek back to Hong Kong via that jet stream

So why did The Nav do it, this once in a life-time moment of travelling insanity? Several reasons really. He's not a Buddhist so he believes we only live once. He needs to fight for the honour of being the 'favourite child' so he can eventually get his hands on his parents stunning rosewood dining table from China. He lives for the term 'Carpe Deum', or 'Seize the Day'. But most importantly most of us only have one Mum in our lives, and The Nav loves his Mum deeply and with abandon

And if you our valued reader still don't agree that superannuant parties rock? Try it! They'll kill you - or they'll die trying!

Somehow safely back in Hong Kong wrapped up, chained-up, and signing out from his padded cell suffering from the combined affects of altitude, alcohol, jet-lag, lack of sleep, and too much of the cha cha and tango. The Nav's sais sayonara to his new 70 year old sweet hearts

Hong Kong Singers Carol Singing 2008 – Cherubims & Seraphims Not

There is the roof-raising Handel's Hallelujah Chorus in his 'Messiah', Puccini's haunting 'Un Bel de Vedremo' from Madam Butterfly, and Beethoven's climaxing 4th Movement in his ‘9th Symphony’. These broad, sweeping choral musical masterpieces wrench at our hearts, cause us to pause with eyes closed but heads pointed upwards towards the heavens, and make us feel as though we could have built the Pyramids of Giza alone - in just one day!

And then there is the Hong Kong Singers Christmas Carols Choir. This annual band of motley singers and musos - on various a pilgrimage, a crusade, or a haj - to seek musical fulfillment in the name of Christ Our Father, Saint Nicholas, and The Guinness Clan late of St James Gate Dublin Ireland. With the latter said Clan topping the list of financial beneficiaries of Hong Kong Singers wallets and by default disposable incomes in what is traditionally "The 2nd Half of the Rehearsal"

After a "1st Half" slaving away as trebles, and altos, and tenors and basses - voices across the board emasculated over the course of two hours of rehearsing various Christmas classics - the Musical Director hammering away at an old piano that was last tuned during 'The Boxer Rebellion' of 1900; the motley crew of Singers musos with great relief move on to that much anticipated "2nd Half"

Sometimes 'Grappa's Restaurant and Bar' in Central HK, but often ‘Bulldogs Bar’ in Lan Kwai Fong Hong Kong. Where the Queen Bee 'Jools' is able to, with the help of the Dame and Doyen ‘Karine’, and with absolutely no resistance from that totally responsible icon of Hong Education and Musical Director 'Andy' - pull a pint for all parties at happy hour prices, night, day, and even during Ramadan !

But how does it all start. Well weeks before, when Hong Kong's Party Season has barely begun, the Queen, Doyen, and Director advertise, email, telemarket, and use carrier pigeons to entice this motley lot - "The 4 Principal Parts Horsemen of the Apocalypse of Carols" - to show at the Glenealy School Hall in Hong Kong for initial Monday night rehearsals. After "cajoling this a herd of tone deaf chaff" into submission, new techniques are then used such as those similar to British naval press-gangs, Rome's enslavement of the Gauls, and threats of Chinese water torture to ensure another army of semi-harmonious singers with fine vocal chords but no charisma show for the CD recording - with these 'ringers' recorded and then banished to the dustbin of the "Ghosts of Singers Christmas Carols Past"

And then the true test begins. Having been battered, bruised, and buried in rehearsing such classics as 'The First Noel', 'O Come All Ye Faithful', and 'Silent Night', our "tone deaf chaff" are then thrown to the four winds to fend for themselves at the Discovery Bay Marina Club, Grappa's Central, the Shek-O Golf & Country Club, Saint John's Cathedral, and the Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club. Bravely but ultimately futiley seeking to beat God at his own game - gloriously praising His and his Son’s almighty and their glory on high and on earth. The "chaff" already knowing full well that the 'Supreme Being' already has a heavenly choir of cherubim and seraphim on his generous pay roll to serenade him in perpetuity

But also fully knowing that although The Hong Kong Singers may as one sound like a band of wailing banshees by comparison to those celestial angels, we have access to the one thing that the Lord would never allow into Heaven. The black gold - Guinness. And for this one piece of luck heaven can take all the cherubims' and seraphims' they can squeeze through the pearly gates because as the old saying goes, "One pint of the black stuff and you can take on the world. Two pints and you can take on God himself !"

This is The Nav. Supping a pint or two of the black Irish gold with his fellow HK Singers "chaff", tipping his hat, and winking at an enviously sober Lord above most un-high