Last month, as we stood under the carved archway dividing Duty Free and NZ Customs listening to Haere Mai, I felt overcome with emotion. That silly happy song I’ve never given two hoots about before was making me feel nostalgic for my country. Home. Bob and the ‘Dactyl watched some loutish lads pose underneath the … More It’s wader, Mom, not water.
I love being a New Zealander, but after listening to a lift full of Auckland Grammar school girls in Hawaii, last week, I finally admitted I speak fonny. My kiwi twang –the kwang– sounds lazy, as if my tongue is allergic to vowels. My great, great English grandparents are to blame; they lost some semantics … More I Forgot To Pack My Diphthongs