Rhiannon and the Gold Dust Woman hit the 'naki

I would like to lick Stevie Nicks' tambourine. I want to be her beribboned microphone.

Rhiannon and I met up with another Fleetwood enthusiast and his not such an enthusiast wife who very nicely put up with us practically crying and warbling and clutching each other shrieking 'I love Stevie'. Frack, it was ace.

Full, full points to the person in the audience, who shouted 'Stuuuuuvvvviiiieeeeeeee' in a full-on Kiwi accent. The legendary Nicks would have been thrilled from her heeled toes to top-hatted head to have inspired such devotion. No one carries off a sparkly dress like she does. And people were trying. Badly.

The 'naki gave us some rain but quite frankly it could have snowed and it still would have worked with the music. An audience who knows all the words to all the songs is always a nice place to be.

And then we left the 'naki at midnight, only six hours after we got there, because we had business elsewhere. Like breakfast with my dad and godparents in PN. Had my spinster t-shirt admired by the locals, though. Ace, ace weekend. Oh God, I am still swooning.

Three more days of work, my mother is back in the country and I have a Katie and Debs en route. I love summer.