The Book of Sifty

We're on the piss, mate, and you're way behind 1:12AM

So a few months back I got a randon mail from a bloke called Rob. He had met my sister, and brother-in-law in New England somewhere. He was planning a trip to NZ to tour around the south island by bicycle. He had a whole bunch of biking questions, and we emailed each other a bit while I gave him some advice and answered as many questions as I could.

Once he hit NZ he started sending bulk mails. Some of his impression of NZ are classic:

They sell good blue cod from Riverton, which I had with a Speights beer at the bar in Colac Bay. Deep fried, of course, as noted on the menu (""battered""). The fish, not the beer (which is the ""Pride of the South."" It's ok, but I hope they can be proud of something else, too.) Just a few local men in the pub, who talked to me a bit incomprehensibly. Between the accents and the pitchers (""jugs"") EACH was drinking, I had a little trouble following.

The next morning, I saw the woman who cooked the fish. She said, ""I eat it steamed with a garlic wine sauce. You could have had that."" Now she tells me,

One thing I do know - NZ plumbers put hot and cold taps on whichever side they feel like. It can vary within the same home. I've mentioned to locals that in the US, hot is always on the left. You don't have to hunt for it when the label is missing. The Kiwis think that sounds like a pretty good idea.

Then later down the e-mail there's this statement: Rob had bumped into some bicycle nut who let him stay with him in his flat mates room while he was away:

The roomate, Simon, showed up the next day, while I was out on the dramatic Lake Manapouri - West Arm Power Station - Doubtful Sound cruise. My stuff was all over his room, and he didn't care a bit. I came in after the cruise. He was sitting in the kitchen after a week out in the bush, with quite a few empty beer bottles around. His first words: "" We're on the piss, mate, and you're way behind.""

In fact, they sent me out on my bike for another case of Speights. Always the cultural ambassador, I told them, ""In the states, we call this a beer run."" I have now proved that I can strap and ride a full 24 bottle case of beer on my rear rack.