When one of my girlfriends emailed an hour after our arranged Skype date to say she was sorry she’d forgotten to Skype in, but “thought you’d probably be busy looking at pretty old buildings or eating a pastry anyway," I lost the plot altogether.
“What does she think I’m doing?” I wailed into my laptop screen at my mum, the unfortunate next caller. “Having a good time?!”
Of course I was supposed to be having a good time, all the time, because I was on my Big OE – the young New Zealander’s overseas experience, sold as a rite of passage.
Published in Wellington's Capital magazine