Corry On Regardless

Speaking of feeling homesick, I must admit that I'm not. I keep catching the odd glimpse of Corry on the TV and for a second, I feel a pang of homesickness. And then, just as I'm replaying my youth in my head, using that Warburtons bread / cobbled road / boy on bicycle advert as the setting, I suddenly remember all the reasons I have enjoyed not living in the UK since February.

I've been very, very far away from the following:

• Inane reality-TV shows (Britain's Got Talent, Big Brother, X-Factor, I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here)
• Bad weather
• Chavs
• Rude people
• Violent crime rates
• Chris Moyles on Radio 1
• Saturday night prime-time television (anything involving Ant & Dec or the eternally pregnant/annoying Davina McCall)
• A radio network where the only choices are the BBC or commercial dance stations (with all stations tied to a playlist of 10 songs which revolve all day as if on a child's jukebox)
• Toffs
• Over-population
• Pidgeons
• Grime

I could probably list more, but I'm depressing myself.

Now this isn't to say that New Zealand is a paradise. It's pretty close, but it has its faults too. There is a general level of unsophistication over here which leads me to believe the country was colonised by philistines. The New Zealand Dollar is weak against what seems like almost every other currency in the world, which takes some getting used to - especially coming from somewhere like the UK where the Pound is so strong. There is no well-established public-transport network, so you have to rely on your car all the time (which is a problem when you fancy a pint after work).

But I suppose, whenever I think of how bad the UK can be, I always end up thinking of what was probably one of the worst weekends of my life. In May a few years ago, we went on a last-minute camping trip in North Wales on a Bank Holiday Weekend. Now I didn't really know what to expect, as I'd never been camping before other than at music festivals. I wish I had kept it that way - as our weekend was completely ruined by white-trash families playing Tony Christie's (Is This The Way To) Amarillo repeatedly, at full volume, from their cars. This was just after Peter Kay had re-released the song for Comic Relief. When the song would stop, somebody would walk over to the car and start it again. And again. And again. And again. This happened from around 2pm until midnight, and then again the following morning. Needless to say, we left around lunchtime the following day.

These days, with summer fast approaching, the opportunity to go down to the beach after work or at the weekend is very real. Golden sand, turquoise water and not a Tony Christie song in earshot.