Growing up, occasionally my family would pile into the Holden Commodore, go for a drive, and drop in somewhere for a visit. There would be excited welcomes, the kettle would be thrown on and some home baking or a packet of biscuits would be produced.
I got 15-minutes warning on Saturday. It was 11.30am when I got the message. I was in my bathrobe doing housework. My daughter was in her pyjamas. I had to decide between me being half presentable or her. I chose myself and she was in her pyjamas until 4.30pm. This KDI was the undisputed highlight of my weekend; hours of interesting talk, some playdough cake and two cups of questionable coffee from our machine with an upside-down seal.
In LA we try at every turn to encourage the KDI, but weirdly enough it hasn't caught on. Socialising is scheduled. People stick to the timings on the invite. We used to have Christmas cocktails in Australia, 3pm–6pm. At 9.15pm half the guests would start thinking about leaving. The last time we did this at home in LA, the room had cleared out by 5.50pm. I have to admit I quite like the respect the invitation is given but socialising isn't as spontaneous as it is here.
One of my friends took us up on a KDI. It was Memorial Day 2017, the official first day of summer. I was hot and bothered making a potato salad for a BBQ and our daughter was surgically connected to my boob. Unshowered and flustered I was stunned to see my friend at the door. She looked like she wanted to disappear, but I was thrilled. She was ushered in to great fanfare.
This is the beauty of the KDI. Not only is it unique to New Zealanders, it catches people in moments of real life. There is no other way to react other than with joy that someone was thinking of you, parked the car and knocked on your door. No time to shower and dry your hair. No time for the vacuuming. No time to clear away piles of folded laundry; apologies to our friend we dropped in on the second to last day of term at 5pm trying to feed her four hungry children.
My friend vowed she would never do it again, but twelve months later the doorbell rang before 8am. Freshly showered I opened it and there she was. She'd been on a 7am date, because that's apparently what you do in LA. Maybe, like childbirth, she had blocked out the trauma and only remembered our hysterical laughter and the excellent flat white she was offered the first time.
With a KDI you get it raw and unfiltered, but shouldn't that be how friendships are? Accepting of messy homes and bathrobes and bed hair? I wouldn't have it any other way.
