Ash Wednesday is a strange day, especially in New Zealand today as we remember the anniversary of the Feb 22. quake in Christchurch. I’ve been writing about the Phoenix mythology lately, as well as fire and it’s all imagery that suits the beginning of a Lenten season. Burn something to ashes, taking it away, seeing what arrives in it’s place. It’s important to remember the role ashes play in cleansing of any sort – fire to sterilize, soap made from ashes since soap was first made. So Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent and time to give something up.

I caught up with a good friend this week and we were talking about all manner of things, including the Lent season and what I was thinking about giving up. At one point he called me an epicurean. It’s not really an insult, to my way of thinking – although I couldn’t tell if it was mockery or envy in his voice. In colloquial terms, to be an epicurean is really to be known as a bit of a foodie, which is me to a T. But dig a little deeper and the word really originally meant someone who was passionate about the sensuality of life, all the senses – not just those to do with food and drink.

Getting ready for Lent, I think my friend is right. This season is about restoring balance and enjoying each of the choices I make – what I put in my mouth, what I spend time in, what sensations I experience – the lack of something I enjoy the aroma, taste and texture of, the impatience of waiting, the discipline of self-control, they are all part of the sensations of life. I love and savour each one. Experiencing each of those small pleasures is made more exquisite by their absence for this season. The anticipation of enjoying them again, the space and time I fill with something else in their place. The opportunity to regard all my choices again.

I said on Sunday night that I have a rhythm to my day – it starts usually with heading into the garden to water my herb garden. As I pass by the coriander, basil, parsley, chives and mint – each aroma wafts over me. The smell alone wakes up my taste buds, clears my head. Then I eat breakfast, make coffee. But there’s something about starting my day with awakening those senses… Lent is a little bit like that for me, awakening the senses again by taking something away for a while.

Western philosophy has dampened down some of the sensual elements of our life – but to me life is nothing, spirituality is nothing if it doesn’t embrace touch, taste, smell, sight and sound. We were made to live and enjoy this corporeal life for a reason – sensation is everything. That’s really what it means to be an epicurean – to understand that life is sensual.

I’m giving up alcohol this year – not an easy choice for me and therefore, the one that had to be made. Not because I’m an alcoholic but simply because there is no part of my life that will go untouched by this choice. For my hospitality to be properly expressed usually means feeding people, along with bottles of beer, wine, whisky and more. I gather with my friends at the bar, I love the time I spend with hospitality mates and I write about booze for a living. So work, play and life all gets changed around for 40 days. Wish me luck.

Earlier in the year, Marko asked me to come onboard as a contributor for Slant33. The key idea is to ask a range of pertinent, insightful and thought-provoking questions (one a week) with three different voices offering their answer for discussion and commentary.

I jumped at the opportunity as I really trust Marko’s insight as a thinker and leader to help facilitate the process and range of both questions and perspectives, but also because I love the idea of a column that offers so much engagement and depth in one sitting. Even as a contributor – waiting to see what people are going to say, how it differs from your own, what it adds.. it’s really a fun and stretching process. Here’s my first contribution answering the question, “in what practical ways do you find solitude and rest?”

I’d love you to have a read and offer your thoughts and comments on the site – I promise your voice will enrich the conversation!

Here’s an excerpt:

Expectations need to be managed. The people pleaser in me rushes to the surface when an unrealistic deadline or expectation is placed on me. (Trust me, I never create unrealistic expectations for myself , right?) We have to learn to practically address what robs us of rest and healthy functioning. In the first year of my internship, I was asked to do 6-10 hours but did nearly 20 hours every week to meet the unspoken expectations. Setting a healthy pace for myself also results in a healthy pace for my ministry, my volunteers, and my students.

Then, I need to make the most of the rest breaks. I find my creativity is at a high in the morning as much as I like to reflect on the day before as sleep brings perspective and insight. First I like to clear the decks, making lists of all the compartments, any practical solutions or actions I need to take to problem solve or move a project forward. Once my head is clear, then taking a walk. Either leaving the phone behind or turning it off helps. Energizing my creativity benefits my whole day.

This woman is like an army in front of me
Like a great tiger out of hibernation
Everything about her uniform is strong
She is oiled like snakeskin

I forget, you have forgotten her before the hiberation
and that great dark winter but she watched
hovering from the north west east south borders of you

and you hidden in the corner, did not know me
before the winter, cracking brittle icicle heart
that underneath she, is entirely fierce

you over there could not know, you there have pushed it from your mind

that i am always summer. always like an unshakeable,
immovable living oak tree, a cedar, fragrant I am drenched
in some internal sunshine, I am always summer merely beneath snow

my blazing flesh becoming sacred, holiness of ash and ice
i have a secret, layers of secrets over hidden things and the most
furthest hidden thing in my heart beating like a drum

i do not need to feel happy to be happy
happiness is in me like spring, summer and snow
now that I have remembered

how to roar from within to always be warm
the dancing hunt of the tiger, the flight of the dove
do not forget me again (I will not forget myself)

I do not need to be happy as some people need happiness
or melancholy as fuel, not to be happy or sad
the deepest melancholy is joy to me in summer, spring or snow

I fear nothing, I am not burdened by desire – I am freer
than one who tries to satisfy the burn, the burn instead delights me
i do not need to feel happy to be happy

I am fierce, like summer.
Fearless with this army standing with me.

I have a Just-In-Case box. Everytime I move house, I unpack it until eventually I need to repack it to move again. Sometimes, I’ve been known to take items from the box with me on travels to foreign lands, beach walks and up windy hills before dawn. It’s the box of things I keep Just-In-Case I need to remember, to reconnect or to rekindle something in me or between myself and old friends. Adding something to the box is never easy – it’s almost always bittersweet. To keep a memory sometimes means to have lost a present reality. Like when my aunty died, or my grandfather, or my first dog.

Once the box is unpacked, you’d never realize how connected the items are to one another or what they mean but it’s how I stay connected to my memories, without feeling trapped in the past. You see, a thing doesn’t have emotions. Doesn’t have demands, a voice, a touch or a laugh that’s too easy to remember, too hard to forget. So things are a useful way for me to keep memories without being forever stuck in the history of what I’ve felt and experienced.

For a while now, I’ve been wondering whether or not the Just-In-Case box needs a clear-out, but when reviewing it’s contents scattered around my room, my office and my house I thought… No. It’s not time yet. I’m still learning, remembering and I’m still hoping to reconnect with some of the lives represented in the Just-In-Case box. But the lessons are poignant, speaking loudly to me from all the corners.

I don’t like shutting doors or stepping into a future without ‘what-ifs’. I’m such a futurist that I can’t help but always imagine a future of possibility – where the dead are only gone for a moment, everyone gets reunited in the end and endings are only transitions to new beginnings. I’m an eternal optimist. But if my Just-In-Case box helps me to hold onto hope, then it’s not really being stuck in the past is it? More like waiting on a future installment. Sometimes people are like chapters.

Just in case, I have a picture of my immediate family – sisters, Mum, my uncle and his second wife from when I was about 15. I hated posing for that photo but someone had made Dana laugh – so it’s a real moment. My sister’s hair is long and gorgeously red, Carmel is still so young and Mum looks happy. I want to remember that, just in case.

Just in case, I have a polaroid photograph of two old friends & I tucked into my mirror. It was right before everything changed and I could feel it coming like a train. I need to remember that I am brave and strong to have survived that.

Just in case, I keep a bottle of red wine I bought to share with a friend who never turned up. It’s a really nice drop, but I keep it just in case they knock on my door.

Just in case, I have a Frenz loyalty card from the time a friend had such a big confession to make it took 7 beers and 6 hours to drag it out of him and put our friendship back together. We drank, sitting mostly in silence until the words and beer were flowing and we had to nap in the car before we could drive. I keep it in a drawer just in case I need it again one day.

Just in case, I have a photograph of Stevie G, who died way before his time but knew how to make us all laugh with his laughter. I don’t want to forget the ones that we’ve lost.

Just in case, I have the favourite mug of the one who used to visit late into the night, drinking tea. You never know when tea might be required.

Just in case, I still have ticket stubs and tshirt from the DMB show I went to alone. I bought you a shirt, I wished you were there. I don’t want to forget what it meant to me.

Just in case, I still have the sheet music to the hymn that we sang at your funeral, the words that I scratched out to read aloud and the boarding pass from that awful flight back home.

Just in case, I have the first pair of Levis I ever owned with worn through knees and the Tiffani LP that matched them so well. Childhood was good.

Just in case, I always have a lighter, a box of matches and whisky in the house. That is the beginning of hospitality.

Just in case, I have cassette recordings of my first radio shows, the first interview Steriogram ever did and some of my best talkback work. I don’t even have a cassette player, but they exist.

Just in case, I wear nine rubies on my finger in a circle of gold to remember the values that shape my life. So as not to forget what I am worth.

Just in case, I keep a copy of the Baptist Hymnbook and every lyric, poem or scribble onto page I ever made.

Just in case, I keep American dollars in the piggybank and a San Diego guidebook on the shelf for whenever I get there next.

Just in case, I keep the books of a friend long since returned overseas in case she wants them back one day.

Just in case, I have a pretty dress I’ll never throw away because it was such a great party.

Just in case.

By faith alone. Five years into a wild ride of running my own business, being my own boss…essentially putting all my worth and energy and effort on the line to be who I am.

By faith alone. Five years have flashed by like a blur in a myriad of hardships, lessons and successes. Yay!

Once upon a time, there was a girl who started a business. She had an office off the main road, behind a building, down an alleyway, up some stairs and straight on the left. She would work late into the night, sometimes stopping for dinner or meeting a friend for a drink.

She always bought her coffee from the same place just in the block she called home, she believed in local economy. And so, one night whilst thinking about a work project and meeting friends for a catch up drink, she found herself downstairs from the office and just on the corner, sitting in the corner bar of the block she called home.

Although a whisky drinker from way back, her palette was mostly developed around wine – but with a fondness for the refreshing sting of Stone’s Ginger Wine, she ordered the Whisky Mac and a love affair was born.

It was born in first impressions, then in suggestion and appreciation of her palette – it’s developing preferences always given room to fly. It began with the slightest remembrance of her name and then a smile. Not a slick, keep’em happy kind of smile, but a genuine, good to see you again kinda smile.

Hospitality is the most important gift of all the gifts. It’s the one that builds communities and shelters people from the storm. That smile has been my shelter from the storm on plenty of nights. A friendly drink became a regular watering hole for all our friends. A pre-gig pizza and drink, a post-gig cocktail meltdown and mostly, for me… a late night place to hang my hat once or twice before bed. A place to never feel lonely, despite being alone on the other side of the bar.

It’s a place where I have experienced and been blessed enough to experience the height of hospitality, the beauty of friendship birthed in creative respect and mostly, I have been loved and connected, by the grace of a welcoming face and listening ear.

There are plenty of people who pride themselves on all sorts of things, that will never tend to my heart or my head or my soul, the way that he does. I go to the bar because I like the people but mostly – I like to drink well. My tastebuds have learned new songs to sing, which has made me a better writer and musician. I’ve learned so much about people from watching them and listening to them. I have become friends with someone who inspires me. It’s a gift. I’m so grateful to believe in someone and their creative ability. I’m so overjoyed to delight in their passion for the craft.

I have been buoyed in the middle of cold, long nights with foolishness and punk rock songs, with crisp beer and sarcastic gin & tonics.

I have finished my first book, much much sooner than the book I thought would be the first one… I have been inspired. I am ever grateful.

I wish I had the gift of hospitality the way that he does.

Originally posted at Auckland Scene

When do you know this bar thing is getting out of hand? When you order a drink at on a Monday night (on the night in question, a semi-traditional Whiskey-Mac with equal parts Irish Whiskey and ginger wine over ice with lemon, no mixer) and the bartender looks at you, smiles, winks, then says “Ah, hospo – right?”

Mondays, otherwise affectionately known as “hospo night” (when a lot of local bars and eateries take a well-deserved day off) is a strange time of the week to be reviewing a bar, but hey – for the Bar Scene Babe, anything goes.

Grand Central is in fact, the longest established bar on the Ponsonby Road strip. Music every night of the week, from open mic acoustic sets to DJs later in the week. The bar is small, efficient and the staff are friendly. Pamela has a good handle on the characters, most of them regulars signing up for their 4 song sets and was unfazed in making my laidback version of a Whiskey-Mac. Good sign.

If I was in the States, I could call Grand Central a dive bar and no-one would be offended. What it really means is a little bit of everything traditional. There’s an ample selection of your favourite spirits but nothing too out of the ordinary, no major cocktail list to speak of but the specials are Irish-themed, no doubt left over from St Patricks Day. Do you get my drift? Although points on the board – they carry my pick of decent bourbons & a few decent whiskies, as well as the full Finlandia range if vodka is your thing.

Good beers, reasonable prices and a tinge of seventies everywhere you look. Especially if you look up, there’s a disco ball just to remind you it’s not all soulful singer/songwriters in here. If you remember the good old days of the Java Jive down in Three Lamps, open mic nights in Ponsonby are something of legend, forever associated with a little blues, jazz and Crowded House classics. Plus, performers get 2 for 1 drinks. Dutch courage and all that!

To be fair, the talent on offer is decent enough to make Grand Central a great place to stopover before or after a quick burger dash (Murder Burger & Burger Fuel are both in the vicinity and you can happily eat at the bar). There are enough seats outside, in the back and side rooms to give you a quiet wee corner or put yourself in the thick of the action at the bar.

The later in the week it gets, the busier Grand Central is, but the blackboard inside gives you a great heads up on which night to pop in depending on your music taste. So get out there and give it a go – open mic night, it’s a Ponsonby tradition.

Grand Central, Ponsonby 126 Ponsonby Rd, Ponsonby www.grandcentral.net.nz

I’ll be honest here, ok. Brace yourself. I’ve lived on the North Shore of Auckland for at least 10 years of my life. But, after all the years I’ve lived on the Shore, being firmly re-ensconced in central Auckland only reaffirms my feeling of being a foreigner when it comes to Takapuna. I mean, cliché as it is – it really is the land of BMW, Audi, white pants and now – the offshoot brainchild of some of New Zealand’s finest creatives – The Department Store. Which I think has and will continue to be a destination shopping & beauty experience for Aucklanders!

Therein, the conflict of interest lies. You see, I’ve had a bit of a lucky streak lately which started with winning $150 worth of The Department Store vouchers, which as Twitter informed me… doesn’t get you much. So, the very un-fashionista me… needed to go to the centre of high style in Takapuna. What a wicked tale of indulgence it begins..Oh, how I love to LOOK. Fashion magazines, hair salons, shoes, handbags, jewellery, beauty treatments… I’ll read and read and read all about it and look look look – but actually be brave enough to wear it or do it? Heavens no. Perhaps though, the brilliance in the concept store is the presence of the Stephen Marr salon with Lucy & The Powder Room downstairs.

A quick look in the mirror confirmed it with horrors and gasping, “I’m only at least six weeks overdue for a cut & colour!” Mere hours later, I had an appointment for a couple of days time and a guilt headache setting in.

My relationship with my hairstylist is one of supreme loyalty. We’ve been together at least 6 years, weathered short, long, the awful growing out stage (I was a real bitch during that one). And we’re friends, on Facebook and everything. So I had to choose my words carefully – discreetly. However, I may have landed in an affair I can’t escape from, Stephen & Lucy are seductive, wonderful creatures.

Before I even left the comfort of the city, I received a phonecall from Andrea at Lucy & the Powder Room. They had “noticed you’re a client upstairs but you’ve never visited us, so we’d love to offer you a free 30min facial.” Well, technically I wasn’t a client yet, which made it feel even more tantalizing. Freebies and bonuses before I’ve even stepped foot in the place? Temptress! Of course, I said yes.

Even the mandatory run down of Sans products (all natural, all NZ made, all organic, all bound to rejuvenate and prevent aging with proper use) during my cleansing, exfoliating, massaging facial ritual was pleasant as I soaked in all the luxury. I held myself back from buying all the serums and cleansers at once, relishing the dewy, glowing feeling in my cheeks instead.

Then upstairs to Stephen Marr and their newest stylist, Matt. I’ll be honest – I’ve known for a while now that if I ever cheated on Aimee (aforementioned amazing stylist at Servilles Albany) it would be for a male hairstylist. Plus, one who’s worked in film & TV and is so affably charming as Matt? Hard to resist. There’s a cute little “get to know you” piece on The Department Store blog actually!

The choice of Waiheke wines offered on my arrival (at lunchtime, darling!) served with tender olives was perfect.

The consultation, colour and cut was exquisite – lots of attentive questions, suggestions and the usual getting-to-know-you conversation.. of course, mostly I was just anxiously awaiting Matt to get his hands on the regrowth that became more and more hideously obvious with every flaxen haired Shore beauty that walked in!

Dry cutting, then colouring with Matt’s confident but not overly presumptive suggestions of lowlights, highlights and contouring, followed by the hair-washing.

Let’s not neglect the importance of a good basin. Postured behind a living wall of ferns that give the industrial space a feeling of oxygen, wellbeing and light – the basins and reclining chairs are beautiful somewhat uncomfortable. Delightfully honest, Sally (the most thorough hair-washing I’ve ever had) admitted that the placement hadn’t gone quite right with those chairs and basins. I felt better that it wasn’t just my unfashionable 5’2” frame that wasn’t working!

Consider me wooed, where consulting by the basin, Matt assured me I wouldn’t need toning. For the first time in nearly 5 years of reddish, blonde hues and no toning necessary? I nearly didn’t believe him, but I was grateful to be out of the chair.

“More wine? A coffee? More water? Anything at all?”, I was asked frequently but I was just fine. The cut perfected, the blowdry was thorough and had movement, body… even with a touch of finishing serum for dry ends and (gasp!) mousse. Only at the roots for volume, but not on my somewhat sensitive scalp. I mean, the last time I thought about mousse my mother was still getting a short 80s cut “frosted on the tips”. You know that look. Nothing pretty about that past 1989.

But mousse me, he did. And I converted. That kind of experience could almost be considered spiritual. So now, I’m perfectly exfoliated, with a coat of gorgeous Jane Iredale mineral foundation with stunning hair, sated with wine and olives.What more could a girl ask? Well, I was sent away with samples of the Sans range with explicit instructions and a little sales pitch that was seductive in of itself – mostly to help with scalp sensitivity.

Oh wait, there’s more. Just when you’re think you’re done, Matt says..”Now, I’d love you to come back in a couple of weeks. Let’s do a complimentary one-on-one! I’ll show you a few tricks, we can check in on the colour and try out a few things, we’ll see how the shampoo is going for you. Make sure you come on a night before you’re going out.”

I mean, Matt is so delightfully unassuming and the antithesis of everything I feel intimidated, that it’s the height of fashion and style while feeling completely comfortable to be yourself.

Swoon. I think I’m having an “emotional affair” with another stylist. Then they plied me with The Department Store chocolate bars. Melt.

So in 2009, I had the amazing privilege of working with Youth Specialties for a number of months. It was through a pretty crazy transition period for the organization. Well, actually – I came at what I thought was the end of a period of transition for the company.

As a youthworker, there has been no other organization that resources, trains and publishes relevant materials for my youth work career as well as my theological formation and development as a person of faith and a youthworker. YS has always been intelligent, forward-thinking and engaging. During my first years of volunteering, I clung to every word of Mike Yaconelli’s I could find. And other voices from the YS community began to become incredibly important and influence me.

So now – as another big announcement has just been made – I think it’s timely to throw a few thoughts and gratitudes of my own.

For the leadership, creative talent and genuine passion for youthworkers, I will always be grateful for the time and hearts of people whose names and faces will be familiar (Mike Yaconelli, Wayne Rice, Tic Long and Mark Oestreicher). They are not just figureheads of an organization but formative thinkers and talents in our community. However, they are only one part of the story, no matter how intertwined the stories are.

I cannot thank Marko enough for the influence, opportunity and hope he gave me in the opportunity to work with the YS team. There are many more names and faces you won’t know that are part of it’s history. Some of those names are Adam, Holly, Amy, Michelle, Brittany, Donna, Lara, Bethany, Dave, Mandy, Ian, Roni and more. There are more names that influence the stories behind those stories.. people I met in passing but who are remembered for their part in the story too – Alex, Mindi, David, Mike, Carol and so on.

Here’s my point. Today, if you received the YS Update, you will have seen the video update Youth Specialties.. Next Steps. Or, you should take a minute to do so.

I got to meet Tic and only spend brief amounts of time with him, but I wildly respect him. He has been influencing and challenging my creative big room ideas since 2004. He is a man of ability, compassion and humor. I also got to spend a lot of time with Mark Matlock – first in late night conversations about the future of youth ministry in 2007, and then more so throughout 2009. I consider him to be a man & a youthworker genuinely committed to helping youthworkers do the best they can, to encouraging and challenging our community towards the future and reengaging how we can work towards this goal. He’s brave enough to lead the courageous “new world / changing world” thinking started by books like “Youth Ministry 3.0” by using different approaches to training and cooperation like Open Space Technology.

Regardless of anything else – the process illuminated in these recent days at YS are so different that the changes over recent years. There’s love and a discernible sense of the presence and direction of God. At times there have been many people pushing and pulling YS to a new season of ministry and I genuinely believe this is a moment like that. And the beauty is that Tic & Marko, having worked together for many years and sharing much friendship beyond that, are still closely entwined in this new season of ministry for Tic, as he moves to Journey Church. That’s their story to tell, but an observer.. it’s pretty cool that God values longwearing relationships as much as we do.

Here’s my future dream/challenge for anyone willing to take it on:

There’s just one leader that that hasn’t been mentioned so far and that’s you. See – the future we are moving towards is less “expert-driven” and more “community & experience” driven. So if you want to ask me, as I feel inclined to share with you – the most important leader in this next phase of youth ministry leadership, training and resourcing…. IS NOT the person at the head of Youth Specialties, but the person at the heart of Youth Specialties. And that’s you, the youthworker – still out there doing your bit. The changing face of youth ministry in the United States, Canada and other parts of the Western World is you, because you’re on the frontline of a landscape that changes every day.

As we wrestle and re-engage our imaginations in theology, in praxis, in creativity, in storytelling – I pray that you will step up to the plate with your overflowing portion or your empty hands. Bring whatever you have whether it’s a need, a desire, a passion or a question without answer, problem without solution.

I firmly believe that YS was starting to push into these directions a few years ago under brave leadership – and that we’ll continue to push there again because we have no choice but to! Bring it on, I say.

Coming from the small islands of New Zealand, if you’re not from here you have no idea how blessed you are by the scope of the NYWC & YSPalooza events. The concept of so many denominations, styles and sizes of youth ministry having the opportunity to come together with Ph.D level teachers, speakers and experienced, incredible youthworkers – many of whom are found sitting next to them in a row, not just up the front of a class. The scale of education is incredible and the opportunities for American youthworkers to learn proactively from one another is amazing.

So do it please, and ensure that your questions, insights and valuable learnings can be applied to the whole YS community. Lead by sharing your stories – not your successes or failures, just your stories and you’ll inspire hope and courage in someone else. And that’s the future. That’s the simple baby step towards working together in a brave new world. Take on the challenge.. because you are at the heart of this thing.

When the Golden Dawn opened in December, there was much talk around town. For some of the young bartenders around town it was the place to work with Jacob Briars aka The Vodka Professor compiling a stunning drinks list and backbar selection of spirits.

And despite the flurry of new bars in Britomart, there are some things that just work, especially on Ponsonby Rd, no doubt thanks to the input of Sam Chapman (think Matterhorn, one of Wellington’s best bars), and Stephen Marr (hairdresser) and one of The Department Store brainstrust.

Righto – to the point, here’s what everyone else loves about Golden Dawn.

• The name. It’s a bit cheeky and while it’s the best time of the day to be drinking – let’s be honest, on Ponsonby Rd it could mean just about anything.
• It’s big enough to be flexible, find a quiet corner or dance to DJs in the packed out Friday & Saturday night scene.
• The hard-to-find, speak-easy entrance. It might look closed but pop your head around the corner, follow the light and noise from the outdoor courtyard. A little bit of mystery, woos the punters.
• That outdoor courtyard with coloured festoons strung from a maypole and long tables for sharing, it really does give you that New Orleans/county fair feeling.

We arrived later in the night (after a cognac tasting!) on a Wednesday and after a Hallertau #2, the boys stayed on the beer but I moved uptown to a Manhattan. It can be made sweet, perfect or dry, depending on the type of vermouth used. I prefer mine dry with a twist and was disappointed not be to asked my preference, even more disappointed when the bitters (aka essential cocktail ingredient) were omitted altogether (gasp, horror, shock!). Saving grace for the Dawn? The traditional sweet Manhattan comes with Maraschino cherries as a garnish, which on this occasion made all things forgivable with their syrupy, spicy, clove-y deliciousness at the end of the drink.

If you remember the venue in it’s former Open Late Café glory… the outdoor courtyard will seem familiar yet different, but the bathrooms remain equally hard to find! Follow the glowing orange light behind the outdoor bar and eventually you’ll see them, but there’s no signage. Thankfully you’re not following your nose!

The crowd is eclectic just like a Ponsonby bar should be, with bohemian artists and students trying to bum a roll-your-own from us, just as the post 40s crowd turned up after dinner in their droves, dealt with expediently by the 4 or 5 young bartenders working the extensive backbar.

Here’s what I love about Golden Dawn:

• The menu is more than your regular bar snacks, meaning you can make the most of the courtyard and the late afternoon sun right through to the wee small hours.
• The Punch! Another revived classic courtesy of Briars & made different each day depending on the mood. Bought by the glass, it’s a tradition you’ll start to see more and more of.
• The Hallertau on tap. If you can’t drag yourself out west to the actual brewery, this is almost as good.

Supposedly, this is a pop-up bar but whether or not the Dawn closes the door after the Rugby World Cup remains to be seen. After all, it’ll be just about time for another season of summer punches about then!

Golden Dawn, 134 Ponsonby Road, Ponsonby, open Tuesday – Saturday

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