On this occasion we stepped into the capable and spacious shoes of Sandy Eggleston, who had served for years as a reporter and then as a chef at the Flag's rudder.
My first steps in Gore were as a young traveler with my then girlfriend, subsequent wife-to-be.
As a semi-local, she warned me of the likelihood that I would leave this jewel of the South unexpectedly, with my '90s Adidas sneakers magically exchanged for Red Band rubber boots.
After a loop around her grandmother's East Gore trail for tea and homemade afghans (“Did you bring a plate? No?”) we headed into town, where I couldn't help but be struck by the friendly fiberglass fish.
“Then what is that all about?” I have asked.
'Fishing. Might be useful to pick it up.'
The truth was that as an Englishman from the city I had already learned that I still had a long way to go to become a full-fledged, practical, number 8 southern man.
My friend's uncles and cousins had dropped by for the earlier cup of coffee – no doubt partly to view the strange bird imported by their nomadic relative.
The conversation went something like this:
“So what do you do for work?”
“I'm a copywriter…” Silence.
“And… You're going to follow football, I assume?”
“Football… yes, I support Liverpool…” Silence. Dark muttering about 'football'.
Uncle Two steps into the breach.
“Would you like to do a little hunting and fishing then?”
'I've actually never hunted before. Or fished.' Silence.
“But…of course I'd like a cracker.” Melancholic shaking of the head. The silent tea drinking resumes.
I'm happy to report that things have improved, given the passage of time and my gradual friendly assimilation into Kiwi society.
We gratefully stopped at Grandma's for a few months – enough time for the birth of our daughter and her first few formative days at Gore Hospital.
The work then took us to Dunedin, where we have remained ever since.
My wife still has connections here, and Gore still holds a dear place in our family hearts – as a place of warm welcome, friendly faces and a safe haven from the occasional madness of modern life.
I look forward to reacquainting myself with your city and district as I come here – please don't be backward in highlighting the stories that matter to you, our readers.
And the Red Bands and “r”s?
Watch this space.