From Drinker to Brewer
So if you've been living under a digital rock for the past few days, I may as well let you know that the royals are in the country.
For the next few days, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge will make their away around the country to see the sights, wear outfits women are jealous of, show off our future head of state, and yack to politicians.
Our elected representatives have already been bickering about the event though, with Labour leader David Cunliffe saying the prime minister is milking the event to get some good photo opportunities in an election year.
John Key would know all about photo ops with Prince William after all, as the prince's last visit here resulted in one of the most ''blokey'' shots Key has had in his career yet - Key swilling some lager while he and the then-unmarried prince cooked some of the biggest slabs of meat I've ever seen put on a grill.
While Wellington's weather has not been conducive towards barbequing, there has been beer involved on this trip.
In 1975 - a good decade before I was born - a Palmerston North-born man dressed as a comic book character created a Kiwi cult classic by singing about how good it is to live in New Zealand.
John Morrison Clarke, in the guise of Fred Dagg, made his way to number 17 on the national music single charts with We Don't Know How Lucky We Are.
While singing about fishing up the North Island or feeding the backline may seem frivolous, Dagg did have a point; we are lucky to live here, and sometimes we do forget how good it can be.
It is often the people who come here from overseas who embrace the place and its unique features the most.
One of those people is Chris Mills, best known as the founder of Kererū Brewing Company.
In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't spend all my time quaffing beer and writing about it for your enjoyment.
They are the last things I thought I would ever write about; I got into journalism to write about music.
And when I was a budding music journalist, writing reviews for student rags, I spent a lot of time reading Simon Sweetman's "Blog On The Tracks".
I still keep tabs on it, reading the reviews and the comments (I always like a good laugh) and recently enjoyed his "The Worst" series - a series of posts about some of his worst experiences as a lover of music.
The most uncomfortable person in a bar late at night is almost never the person being hit on the by seedy old man.
It is not the glassy, trying to weave their way through the scrum of swillers to the safety of the bar with a sky-high stack of glasses in each hand.
It is not even the owner, nervously thinking of a way to kick out the high-spending regular who has had far too much to drink without offending them so much they never return.
No, the most uncomfortable person in a bar late at night is the person who is not drinking alcohol.
Most people call it ''not drinking'', but those on the wagon usually have a beverage of some sort in their hand.
Us Kiwis are a very patriotic bunch when we are outside of our own country.
From taking over the capital city of England on Waitangi Day, to setting up a meat pie shop in New York - we love taking a piece of home with us, no matter where we travel.
If you think about it, we're just like the Irish.
They take their music, their pubs and their Guinness with them wherever they go - or make it wherever they go.
Beers native to other countries have been brewed in New Zealand for decades.
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