There are some strange moments I have experienced since moving to the UK that appear to be unique to my identity as an Australian;

When your Norwegian friend playfully runs her hand across your back so as to alert but not startle you, however you, an Australian, think it’s a spider.

When there is a dark shape on the corner of the ceiling which you logically know must be the bathroom exhaust fan, however you, an Australian, think it’s a spider. 

When something, a piece of dust most likely, brushes against your skin, however you, an Australian, think it's a spider.

When a small black shape trundles across your doona cover, giving no reason for panic, however you, an Australian, think it’s a spider.

And when your housemate squeals and darts away from the wall, and you spin around looking for the huntsman, only for you, an Australian, to say ‘that’s a spider?!’