In episode seven of Step Dave (my favourite local television show) Cara was let down by an entertainer she had booked for her child's birthday party. The timeline was unclear but it looked as if "Super Muso Man" cancelled a few days out even though he had been booked six weeks earlier.
Six weeks? Was this woman serious? What had she been doing for the other 46 weeks leading up to this particular birthday? I was way more prepared than that when I arranged a party to celebrate my daughter's 5th birthday. (This seemed a suitable age to hold her first proper party. She was leaving kindergarten and heading off to school. It was a milestone.)
So at 8.30am one sunny morning in March 2008 I was calmly making fairy bread in the kitchen when the telephone rang. Then my husband came downstairs. "The clown's cancelled," he said. For a moment I thought he was joking.
The clown I'd booked nine months earlier couldn't cancel 90-minutes before 20 small children were due to descend on my house. The clown who'd confirmed his attendance by both email and telephone could not be leaving me in the lurch like this. But he was. An illness in the family meant that he was required elsewhere.
"What do I do?" asked my husband. "You get me a clown here by 10am," I replied as I slathered hundreds-and-thousands onto white bread. He telephoned what must have been every clown in the greater Auckland area to see if they could help. The first eight laughed at such an audacious request. Didn't they realise this was a clown emergency and not at all humorous? Even Step Dave's Cara seemed organised in comparison.