Waitangi misses mad dress code

awesome our national day could be.

Yeah sure, four hours after finishing my flash-as T-shirt I was slurring along with a few thousand other Kiwis, but that’s not the point.

During the days leading up to, and for a few hours that morning, all the talk and hype was about Waitangi Day and your awesome Kiwi-as costume. While still sober, you’d talk to mates about what your family was up to back home or your favourite beach spot. You’d ambush the mate whose mum had sent a care package of Pineapple Lumps and Tim Tams, and ask ‘‘oh, just one bro?’’, then sneak your hand into the bag and grab an easy dozen.

Now before you say this was just a giant piss-up – which, yes, for many it was – know that for many it was also just a few beers with Kiwi comrades.

People from different walks of life, from different tube stops throughout London, all coming together simply because we were all proud Kiwis.

And to finish off the party, there would be a mass haka outside of the Houses of Parliament.

Some called it disrespectful – but if a mass haka of New Zealanders dressed as the most iconic Kiwi figures of our time doesn’t scream out ‘‘We are proud New Zealanders – Happy Waitangi Day’’ then I’m not sure what does.

I’m damn sure, though, that it isn’t stories about Don Brash, protests and politics.

These days, London’s Waitangi Day celebrations are a bit more PC, a bit more policed – and drunks attempting the haka are frowned upon.

But from my younger sisters’ first-hand account of this year’s festivities it is still apparently ‘‘bloody awesome’’. Which means a few thousand Kiwis in London still celebrate our National day a shed-load better than we do.

So I think it’s time for us to embrace the ex-pat spirit – minus a few beers. I’m going to start saving for my Marmite costume now – see you out on the streets next year everyone.