First for three days, then for four days.

Yes, last week it rained a lot. Today it is supposed to let up and come back tomorrow. So I am making hay while the sun shines.

Last night I read a mates blog. I haven’t got over that way for a bit and I see that he has a post about his beloved Australia and my own equally adored New Zealand. I think it was in response to my previous post Things. Tempo told some stories that would of course be quite true if Australia replaced New Zealand and New Zealand replaced Australia in most of the texts; all except the one about Wiremu and his testicular removal.

But he’s right, we are neighbours and we do sling off at each other something chronic, but when you find a Kiwi and an Ozzie overseas amongst the thousands of tourists, you’d think they were Siamese twins because they’re always together. Our rivalry is only equaled by our respect… I think.

It doesn’t matter whether they do us at cricket, or we stomp the stuffing out of them on the rugby paddock, we will still tell the same jokes about each other, they are crude rude and sometimes downright nasty, they sling off at our sheep and we sling off at theirs, we’ve got the Maoris and they’ve got the Aborigines; they’ve got this huge stone in their yard and a poncy Opera house in Sydney, and we’ve got Mt Cook and…. well, we’ve got Mt Cook. Oh, yeah and some mud puddles. So there are good and bad points on both sides of the creek (that’s what we both call the Tasman Sea). It’s true that Australians don’t speak English, they speak Strine, but then we don’t say New Zealand, but rather Newzild

“Newzilders and Strines, sharing proud isolation at the tail of the South Pacific, have been blood brothers in two world wars. In peacetime they keep busy sniping at each other – and mangling their mother tongue. For decades each nation has fiercely upheld its own dialect, despising the other’s version. But now the battle is out in the open. First the Strines stepped over the line by circulating Let Stalk Strine on the wrong side of the Tasman…”

That blurb said it better than me. We retaliated.

But when meeting each other and others of our ilk we both say “Gidday, air gun?” which loosely translated into BBC English would be something like, “Good morning (afternoon, evening), how are you?” The Strines have this national dish called ‘feesh ‘n cheeps’ whereas in Newzild we have the same dish called ‘fush ‘n chups.’ So we are both irrevocably and intricantly involved with butchering our mother tongue, English.

And we both fight ad nauseum over who invented the Pavlova. Which isn’t even a contest because the earliest writing of the “pav” is in a NZ cookbook from the 1920’s whereas it didn’t appear in Australian literature until 1940; which could be explained by the fact that Australian literature only appeared about then too.

Things like bungy jumping were also a New Zealand first. The Australians were first at… ah… um, something.

Newzilders see Strya a bit like this:

And so it goes…

Advertisements