KERRE MCIVOR
KERRE HAD BIG PLANS FOR HER MUM’S 80TH BIRTHDAY PARTY, BUT MUZZ’S VISION FOR THE EVENT DIFFERED FROM HER DAUGHTER’S
Turning 80 is an auspicious occasion. It’s a birthday to be celebrated, especially if you’ve arrived at that age, as my mother has, in fine style. So I was absolutely delighted when earlier in the year my mum told me that she wouldn’t mind throwing a little party to mark the occasion.
To express a desire for a party is a big deal for Muzz. She is not one for fuss and attention, or hogging the spotlight. Oh, she likes a good time and enjoys a bit of a knees-up, but she doesn’t want the fuss to be all about her.
I’m pretty sure I must have been adopted. She mentioned an 80th birthday party while she was up in Auckland staying with us for the weekend and the moment she said “party”, I was off.
Mum was born in 1937, so we should, I said, have a ‘30s party harking back to our fabulous Art Deco weekend in Napier. I’d organise a big band and a handsome singer in a lounge suit. We’d have cocktails and everyone would dress up, and it would be bigger than Ben-Hur. I stopped for breath and saw that Mum was looking at me in horror.
“No, Kerre,” she said.
“That’s the last thing I want. I don’t want a big party. I just want a high tea with a few of my friends at the golf club.”
“Really?” I sighed. “Well, how about a string quartet to play some light classical music while we’re enjoying the club sandwiches and cakes?”
“No, Kerre,” said Mum, firmly. “Just a few friends and a nice afternoon tea on my birthday. That’s all I really want.”
“Well, okay,” I replied, giving in reluctantly. “It’s your birthday. You must have what you want.”
And that’s what we did.
Last Sunday, 40 of Mum’s friends and family gathered together to celebrate the life of a remarkable woman.
When it comes to role models, I have one of the best. If I can be a 10th of the woman my mum is, I’ll be very happy indeed. Muzz still plays competitive 18-hole golf, loves her bridge, is in a number of racing syndicates, enjoys the company of people from all ages and backgrounds, and her joy for life and enthusiasm for each day make her a delight to be around. Which is not to say she hasn’t had a few challenges along the way.
Mum was widowed at 60, just when she was gearing up for a fun retirement with Dad. She had a benign brain tumour and more recently she needed a hip replaced, but she came through both of those operations with flying colours.
She hasn’t given me a moment’s trouble
– unlike the grey hairs
I gave her in my youth.
Mum gave one of the world’s shortest speeches, then I read a poem my daughter Kate had written for her and my aunt Joss read one too. The food was blessed, then the chat began and didn’t stop for the next four hours. Some of the ladies may not have known one another before, but by the end of the afternoon they were mates.
My beautiful niece Julia proved not only decorative but extremely useful by pouring wine and passing around the birthday cake, and a great day was had by all. My mum has set an extremely high standard when it comes to being 80. She has managed it with magnificent style and aplomb. Her own mum lived to 99, so I’m counting on her being around for many more birthdays. And that should give me enough time to talk her into a big band and a dress-up party for her 100th!
‘ I’d organise a big band and a handsome singer in a lounge suit. We’d have cocktails...’
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