Who am I? I’m definitely an expat, but am I a Kiwi or am I a Londoner? Am I a Scorpio (sun sign) or an Aquarian (moon sign)?
When you’ve lived away from home for the long time, it’s funny the thoughts that float into your head on accidentally long train journeys. Can your heart and your head have different homes too? As an expat this is a
question that comes up a lot – “Where do you call home?” Is it where your
clothes and bed are, or is it where you grew up?
I still prefer flat whites and iced coffee over tea.
Tim tams and chit chats will always win over Penguins (but they’ll do in a pinch).
I don’t think I’ll ever fancy baked beans for breakfast.
And Lunch. And Dinner. And with KFC.
Pumpkin and sweet potato are staples of my kitchen.
I will never understand the lack of English street signs. How did the Brits navigate without Google Maps or a husband on speed dial?
A Cup is a standard, amazing measure of 250mls.
I will always support the All Blacks, wear my silver fern with pride and be outraged when Brits support France against us (Rugby World Cup 2007. I swear I’m not holding a grudge. And I don’t care that they were being ‘strategic’.)
How far is a mile again?
Brunch is hands down my favourite meal.
Mr Kiwi calls me a tootu, a fidgeter.
The walls of my home have images of Whakatane,
I still refuse to watch the weather forecast. I find the ‘look out the window’ technique to be far more accurate.
Whenever I get lost, I will always pull the ‘don’t follow the foreigner’ card…
To hear Pokarekare ana sung moves me to tears but hearing Jerusalem doesn’t.
Accidentally, my accent has become English with very little trace of Kiwi.
I automatically stand on the right of tube escalators, but walk up stairs on the left.
I say fivver, ‘hiya’ and quid.
Curry is our favourite takeaway.
I say Chissick instead of Chiswick, and Lester Square instead of Lei-Ches-ter Square.
I vinegar my chips, brown sauce my sausages, and love a sarnie (sandwich).
Water and milk are calculated automatically in pint measurements.
Live football is great (bar the diving).
I’ll support England when the Kiwis aren’t playing, and to hear Swing Low Sweet Chariot echoing around Twickenham is one of the most wonderful feelings.
Using English money has become second nature.
Afternoon tea has become my second favourite kind of meal.
Weather is a hot (or cold and rainy) topic of conversation.
I now call pants, trousers.
Catching a train to the supermarket is totally normal.
Does it really matter where we call home? I guess I’ll just have to stick with a London Kiwi, combining all my favourite qualities of both countries with a large dose of humour. Let’s face it, you have to adapt and adopt – even my cat drinks out of a pint glass. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.
However, I still don’t think I’ll ever understand the off-side rule, or call Lollies, Sweets…
What’s your funniest change in attitude?