​It's a Monday at the Classic Comedy Club in mid-town Auckland. It's the night when beginner comedians gather to test their comedic talents in front of a live audience.

Comedy Director, Geoffrey Scott Blanks, who was made an Officer of the NZ Order of Merit for his services to comedy in the last Queen’s Birthday Honours is busy selling tickets to the 2-hour “Raw” show in the club’s bustling foyer.

​At 8pm the doors to the high-ceilinged performance space swing open. A friendly usher directs us to seats clustered around tables, cabaret-style. Candles flicker on each table. The red brick walls are hung with posters advertising comedy shows past and present. There are a few grey heads in the audience, but it’s a youngish crowd and the atmosphere is warm and convivial. 

I'm on my own so I’m pleased to be seated at a table with four other women with whom it’s easy to strike up a conversation.  It turns out they aren’t just here for laughs - they have skin in the game. The young woman on my left, has Nihilist printed on her T-shirt and Hysterical Feminist on her tote bag. She's here to suss out the comedy scene before making a leap from sit-down wannabe, to stand-up comedian. ​

I'm off to Auckland. My carryon is stashed in the overhead locker. I'm buckled in and carefully not listening to the safety instruction from the air hostess about what to do in the “unlikely event” of an emergency. 

I'm doing this for two reasons. Firstly, it reminds me that I'm about to fly and that’s not good for my nerves. Secondly, given the lack of space between my seat and the one in front, it’s impossible to adopt the brace position she suggests: any panicked attempt to do so could only result in concussion. 

Besides which, I know that surviving a crash is unlikely whatever posture I assume - even if it’s on my knees, babbling. The only possible advantage of cracking your head on your seat tray is that you’ll be unconscious during the plummet earthward. But I digress. This isn’t meant to be about fear of flying. It’s meant to be about food ...

1: FEAR OF FLYING
Nelson airport. Almost successful in limiting obsessive compulsive rechecks of ticket, hand luggage, and departures board. Board plane. Turn off phone and fasten seat belt. Close ears to the flight attendant’s safety instructions. Especially the sequence which begins “in the unlikely event of an emergency”. Refuse to hear gratuitous reminders that emergencies, however unlikely, might occur whilst I am in mid-air.

2: ASPIRATIONAL READING
Flick through Air New Zealand’s in-flight magazine. Distract myself from frightening expanse of cloud and blue sky outside the portholes by counting references in magazine to wine, wristwatches, flash cars and food festivals. Discover adverts or advertorial references to 9 luxury cars including Rolls Royce Ghost and a car which can “parallel park all on its own, hands free”, 7 watches, 18 different wines and vineyards and 5 wine or food festivals.

Wonder how young woman seated next to me can possibly be content with the McDonald’s hamburger and fries she’s smuggled on board. Taps not working in plane’s toilet but luckily the economy pack of hand-wipes lolling in the hand basin promises to “Eliminate Bacterial Contamination”.

3: ADVENTURES IN REAL ESTATE 
Visit friend at her jazzy apartment block, a stone’s throw from Ponsonby Road. It’s just a teensy bit leaky. The balconies are elaborately propped up. No one allowed to venture onto them until repairs completed. On plus side, brothel in the ground floor apartment has shut up shop. Friend relieved that drunk and lovelorn men are no longer disgorged from taxis outside her address at all hours of night. Friend reports that in clean-up operation, intrepid contractor discovered 21 pairs of women’s underpants and a bucket of used condoms. Local real estate values apparently unaffected.