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Every time I visit Wellington I end up wondering just what the deal is with the place, and why I have such a mixed attitude to it.

Case in point- today over breakfast at Olive, everything is basically fantastic. Olive is a great cafe on Cuba St, excellent coffee, home made hash browns which they add rosemary to. Sometimes they have pumpkin pie, the place is really good. And I'm with a nice bunch of people...who need to stop the conversation to talk about poppy tea for about ten minutes. This kind of typifies things I think. Everything's good, but no, it has to be kooky.

Whew. Anyway, I was in Wellington with a purpose, which was going to my Godmother's 60th Birthday. This is the best party I've been to in AGES. Firstly, it was in the Ngaio Town Hall, which is funny to begin with. Then it was dress-up, which was excellent. The best part was the two little old men dressed as painters and then the two lesbians dressed as identical painters. Brilliant.

Juliet, Alek, Ben and I partied almost as hard as most of the people there, which meant that the night turned into a huge one, and I found myself dragging myself home from karaoke at a very unforgiving hour this morning. Qantas of course seated me in the crying and babies section too. Which was charming.

Party coming up this weekend, nerves are beginning to kick in. Am restraining myself from actually calling people to see if they are coming. But seriously, everyone, come. Oh good God...