KEY POINTS:
It's a moment from his "OE" life that always makes the big man laugh. Sean Fitzpatrick is standing in the vast grandness of London's V&A (Victoria and Albert Museum) telling a story about a black-tie rugby function he organised for an important client. The client was Stephen Jennings, the New Zealand-born CEO of Renaissance Capital, one of Russia's largest investment banks, and the guests were some of Europe's wealthiest investors.
As the story goes, former All Black Colin "Pinetree" Meads was leaning on a counter, beneath an enormous blown-glass aqua and lime-green chandelier by glass artist Dale Chihuly, sipping on a beer and contemplating the assembled company.
"Jeez Fitzy," he remarked to his old rugby mate. "This is a bit bloody flash isn't it?"
Fitzpatrick throws back his head and laughs. It was a bit bloody flash.
A sit-down dinner for 150 under the soaring vaulted ceilings of the V&A's magnificent Exhibition Hall, with a head table crammed with rugby greats - Jonah Lomu, Willie John McBride, Meads, former Wallabies Michael Lynagh and Nick Farr-Jones, England's World Cup-winning skipper and now team manager Martin Johnson and former British Lions lock Martin Bayfield.
Flash too is Fitzy, 45, in his designer jeans, crisp shirt, Italian boots and expensively tailored leather jacket, a combination which exudes the whiff of success. He strides around London, pointing out his favourite haunts, with an easy grin and the unmistakable camaraderie of a Kiwi-on-OE showing other Kiwis around. But there's no talk of backpacking, staying with friends of friends, or working in the local pub.
Instead the Fitzpatrick legend, hard-earned on rugby fields around the world, helped pave the way from the moment he arrived.
When Fitzpatrick, his lawyer wife Bronwyn and their two daughters Grace and Eva, now 16 and 10, arrived in London four-and-a-half years ago, millionaire businessman Doug Myers took them to lunch at the Dorchester and a walking tour through London, Hyde Park, Speakers' Corner, the Serpentine, the V&A and the Science Museum across the road. Fitzpatrick is doing the same circuit today.
Two years ago he and Bronwyn bought a house on the river's edge at Windsor, shown to them by their near neighbour Zinzan Brooke, now a property developer and father of four.
"We didn't realise until we bought that property how much we actually missed the water."
From there Fitzpatrick can look out on the green stillness of the Thames. He keeps fit by sculling on the river, biking and walking the family dog.
The Fat Duck, an acclaimed three-star Michelin restaurant, is just down the road and so is a cosy English pub that lets him take his dog inside on a cold night. He plays golf with Zinzan at Castle Royal Golf Club in nearby Reading.
But Fitzpatrick remembers a time, not so long ago, when he couldn't understand why anyone would want to live so far out of London (40km up river). Ten years ago he left the Oakley Court Hotel in Windsor, where the All Blacks had stayed overnight, and - looking up at the gloomy grey sky - wondered why the hell anyone would want to live in Windsor.
Now "Neil", who was the head concierge at the Oakley in those days, is the local mail man. He arrives in a red van and walks right into the Fitzpatrick's home to deliver the mail. And Fitzy loves it. He acknowledges that his is the good life, and that his consulting, leadership and motivational speaking, and sports hospitality business, run jointly by Bronwyn, buys him a good lifestyle.
It's a lifestyle which allows him to work from home, travel just enough, spend time with his daughters and enjoy "some lovely holidays".
About a third of his time is spent working for Stephen Jennings and Renaissance Capital. Four years ago Fitzpatrick found himself sitting next to Jennings at a British Chamber of Commerce trade dinner in Moscow. Jennings, a devoted fan of the All Blacks, asked Fitzpatrick to speak at a Renaissance Capital Conference in Amsterdam. Jennings told him "I want you to tell them about the All Blacks."
Says Fitzpatrick: "He's very passionate about the All Blacks, in terms of the way they operate, the mentality, the culture, the environment."
From there Fitzpatrick began hosting groups of Russians at rugby games. Now the Fitzpatricks own a 20-seat box at Twickenham Rugby Stadium for hosting corporate guests. As well, he works for Sky Sports in Britain, writes for the Sunday Times and has a column in the Herald on Sunday.
Already he's collected some special Kiwi-abroad memories. In April he was invited to Sir Edmund Hillary's memorial service at Windsor Castle and found himself sitting next to singer Hayley Westenra, a nerve-wracking experience during the hymns because he is, he says, tone deaf.
And then there was Dame Kiri Te Kanawa's 60th birthday bash four years ago hosted by Don McKinnon, then Commonwealth Secretary-General, at St James Palace, a glamorous white-tie affair. It was Fitzy and Zinzan's job to present the birthday cake. Their plan was to first do a haka, in full All Blacks get-up - only someone forgot to organise the jerseys. So the pair performed in shorts and their formal white jackets in front of 100 startled British aristocrats, including Princess Anne.
Zinzan performed with such enthusiasm that halfway through, his jacket split right down the back. Fitzy throws back his head again and guffaws at the memory. Dame Kiri enjoyed it all immensely, he says.
But while he's soaking up all London has to offer, there's still that unmistakable Kiwi bloke-ishness about Fitzpatrick. Despite his smart duds, he looks too big and tanned (thanks to a skiing holiday in Austria) to look truly British.
He and Bronwyn drive black cars, and Bronwyn's has a New Zealand sticker on the bumper. They flew a "New Zilind" flag outside their home while cheering single sculler Mahe Drysdale during the World Championships two years ago. He visits the New Zealand shop in the Haymarket to buy Vegemite and milk bottle lollies for his girls.
At the Chelsea Flower Show last year he and Bronwyn bought some deep purple "All Black flax" from the Australian stand to plant in their garden. And during lunch at the Tate Modern he orders Wither Hills. He always drinks New Zealand wine, he says.
If anything, being an expat has made Fitzpatrick more passionate about rugby, more of an All Blacks fan. During All Blacks and Blues games he and mate Ric Salizzo exchange increasingly frantic texts, depending on how it's going.
And then there's the endless post mortem over THAT World Cup quarter-final.
Fitzpatrick was in France last year hosting guests during the World Cup, confident the Blacks had it in the bag.
"I was adamant we were going to win." He was "devastated" when we didn't.
So what went wrong? The familiar deep laugh which tapers to a chuckle says, "That's the $64 million question", without uttering a word.
"I just think that at the end of the day it was probably the pressure, the big match experience, got in the way."
He's forever talking about it with "Zinny" and they chew the fat about the "different" practice and preparation methods used today.
"Maybe it's us, maybe we need to move on, in terms of our attitude."
Back in their day they'd be too scared to show their faces in public if they lost, he says. He remembers the thousands of fans with an acknowledged right of ownership.
"I'd be having a beer down at the pub and there'd be a tap on my shoulder from some guy I'd never met before. [He'd say] 'Time to go home, you've got a test in two weeks'."
After a Blues game he'll text Salizzo asking "Did the sun come up today?"
"Yes it did," comes the reply, "but unfortunately we lost."
Fitzpatrick concedes he might be becoming a little too fanatical.
"We're probably more worried than the players are. It's probably water off a duck's back. They probably don't even talk about the sun not coming up," he laughs.
These days, while his texting during a game might be ferocious Fitzpatrick, by his own admission has mellowed with age and experience. As an All Black he earned a reputation as an abrasive, physical player. Now he insists he was a split personality. He wasn't a hard-nosed, mean bastard off the field, he says.
As we soar up above London in the London Eye, Fitzpatrick points out landmarks as if he's the king of a Monopoly board.
And he rattles off the OE highlights so far - driving the family to France, seeing The Eagles, Neil Diamond and The Rolling Stones in concert, watching an FA Cup Final at the new Wembley Stadium, going to Wimbledon, Ascot, the Grand Prix; and last year to the New York Marathon. And home every second Christmas to a family holiday home on Waiheke Island.
As for when he's coming home, Fitzpatrick's not saying. As his late father was fond of saying, "Son, when you start complaining about the traffic and the weather, it's time to come home." So far, Fitzy's not complaining.
