There are a few telltale signs that you have been adopted by a tribe of expat Kiwis, intent of converting you to the religion of the Long White Cloud.
1. You have at least half a dozen brunches under your belt, and recognise eggs benedict as a food group.
2. Coffee gets grouped into good Flat Whites, bad Flat Whites and those puddles that have no pretty foam. Sauvignon Blanc becomes a life choice.
3. You repeatedly request that Lolly Cake is made for you, even though it isn’t a cake, the ingredients have to be flown around the globe and your passport/tea habits proclaim your British nationality.
4. “Awesome”, “sweet as” and “sure, that [insert crazy thing] sounds like fun” creeps into your vocabulary & you find yourself repeatedly in gales of laughter.
5. You converse via the medium of tremendous, related stories that sound made up, but are 100% true.
6. Sweet potato and pumpkin creeps into your stable of essential vegetables.
7.You understand the cult of Tim Tams & the hilarious act of slamming them in a piping hot cuppa.
8. You find yourself picking a team to support, and watching the rugby. (Shhhh we all just watch it for the short shorts, don’t tell anyone.)
9. You’ve heard the crisp/chip sweets/lollies argument more times than you can count and you have picked a (correct) side.
10. You might find yourself at a dinner party in June, learning about the “Pukeko in a Punga Tree” version of the 12 days of Christmas – and belt out “Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive big fat pigs!” True story.
How high do you score?
