The changing face of Andrew

Golly Gosh! Its been over a year since I put pen to paper, or more accurately,  finger to Imac?
My excuses are many, and almost as sincere as the barrage of tweets from the White House.

The muse has been somewhat dulled over the intervening months, struck dumb by the sheer lunacy of Brexit, the Trump "maladministration" and a general sense of personal stability. This all bodes rather well from a post kidney perspective.

Perhaps the greatest change in my world has been the reduction in weight and "wobbly bits".
I was, and it can be said quite honestly, a tad on the large size. With my girth  the size of a small European nation,  minus the dress sense, I could barely squeeze into my 36" Large jeans. T shirts had a habit of just rolling over my form, and my pendulous bosoms would have put the cast of Baywatch to shame.

Oh dear, caught helping himself to yet more carbohydrates. 

My weight edged to 86kg, and at only 170cms high,  I was in dire danger of becoming obese.
With the added strain on the heart and on my donated pancreas and kidney, I was in serious need of a little bodily TLC. My doctors advised lifestyle changes, and ignoring this would be potentially perilous.

So diet time and a little moderate exercise was called for. I found this daunting at first, possessing as i did, the athletic ability of a Cadburys Creme Egg.  However I found that just 5kms a day on a treadmill, and a small reduction in sugar, treats and snacks was all that was called for. Incredibly I started to shed weight. Within five months I had lost 16 kgs and felt confident enough to then start at the gym.

 2 years have passed since I started this "new journey" and I now weigh 66 kilos and feel more youthful than ever.  I don't know who is more ecstatic, my doctors or my tailors?
I on the other hand am more than happy with the results!

 

 

Five Years, Cinq Ans, Funf Jahren.

As the Disunited Kingdom shoots itself in the proverbial foot and hesitantly attempts to leave the European Union. this united union of Andrew, his pancreas and a kidney are celebrating the 3rd July as our fifth transplantiversary :)

Yes its five years ago today that the call came through and I was rushed ward-wards for the great event.

Zut Alors how times have changed! Five years ago, I drove a French car to the hospital, whereas now the Eurosceptics will no doubt be reassured, that "Johnny foreigner" was sent packing and a decent sensible English car purchased instead. Actually its a Ford Fiesta, made in Portugal and Germany, but it is still Britain's favourite car. The name is Spanish of course, but why spoil a good tale with facts, it just feels very British!

As British in fact as Windsor Castle itself. Just don't tell anyone though that its a Norman French castle, home to the Saxe-Coburg Gotha/Windsor family.

And you will be further reassured by my continuing to uphold the importance of the English language in all regards.  None of that outdated and interfering Indo-European Latin nonsense.
Now pass me that referendum paper so that I can vote.

The result will have left the winners toasting their success on Champagne, feasting on Caviar and truffles. whilst waving their arms in unison to "God Save the Queen" A tuneful ditty, also known in German as Heil dir im Siegerkranz the former anthems of Prussia, Bavaria, and Saxony, and still used today as Kongesangen in Norway. Liechtenstein too rejoices in the same tune, Oben am jungen Rhein.  Cheeky blighters!

Bon Anniversaire!

I've seen you twice, in a short time...

                   

Only a week since we started..

Wise words from those Swedish poets of yore, and a UK number one in November 1977. The video of the same was an early artistic opportunity for director of note, Lasse Hallstrom. He subsequently went on to to showcase his What's Eating Gilbert Grape (1993), The Cider House Rules (1999) Salmon Fishing in the Yemen (2011) & The Hundred Foot Journey in 2014.

Fia-Spel (or Ludo as it is more commonly known outside the land of IKEA) is featured in several of the shots, with just a few displaying its name. Surely the four participants know exactly the name of the game being enjoyed with such hilarity and a profusion of woollen knitwear?

Heavens to Betsy! Director's artistic licence maybe or I'm a Dutchman.

In the same vein then, I have taken artistic licence with my recent affairs of the heart....

Firstly; I've seen my date just three times, in a relatively a short while, only 5 weeks since we started. 

Close, but I have seriously refrained from the wearing of knitted horrors.

Next time I shall include a small pullover or perhaps a cardigan so that I can wear my heart on a sleeve. Following the split, it does indeed seem to me, that I'm getting more open hearted.

Name and Date Unknown

As I gradually transition into the earthly paradise that is singledom, my attention is drawn to the labelling done by our society. 

We are conveniently packaged into bitesize homogenous groups for ease of consumption. Affronted daily as we are by smug self righteous forms that force us to disclose a marital status of their choosing, not mine.

Luckily the media have been subliminally championing our cause for aeons, thanks to the likes of The Lone Ranger, Valerie Singleton, One Direction and of course our hero Han Solo. 

In a rare moment of conventionality I stepped out onto the baggage reclaim of Single Life and approached the ultimate test of status commitment. Yes folks...I  have entered the Great Domestic Departure Lounge, in readiness to embark on The Dating Game. Making sure any lingering baggage has been stowed away, and carefully selecting inflight entertainment and suitable menu options.

Driving into Auckland, and parking near the futuristic sounding Vulcan Lane, I headed into the city. The meeting was going to take place amongst sprinkle of tourists and coffee shops that litter downtown Auckland.

Needless to say I was charming, witty but slightly accident prone, having overshot the location and therefore my date, by several hundred metres. Soon however, I was rescued by G.P.S. and a visibly loud checkered shirt, and we finally made rendezvous.

Over the next three hours we talked and laughed like teenagers. Well he did, mainly at me as I accidentally threw errant pieces of muffin and hollandaise in the air. Worse was to come as I shifted position and slipped on the newly laid cobbles (Auckland is getting a much needed make-over, the city centre resembles a smart modern European city, albeit without the accents). This action sent yet more muffin in a skywards trajectory. 

Add to that a coughing fit, and a "dead arm" as I struggled to look both casually relaxed and sophisticated whilst maintaining poise, balance and a slim tummy. It all takes effort you know!

Then finally at the end, I forgot where I had parked my car, thus ensuring a mad rambling answer to "where have you parked?"

However none of this seems to have detracted from the experience, for we are meeting again tomorrow for brunch. 

Or shall I call it a breakfast lunch food experience, I do so hate to be pigeonholed by hollandaise.

The Special Relationship

The relationship between my organs and I was at best, complex, and at the worst "extremely prejudicial" to my welfare. But, we endured and rose, like a majestic eagle in triumph over the dastardly setbacks. Through all of this I was blessed to have the support and love of my significant other. I will be forever in debt for the care and attention that was lavished on me throughout our lives together.

So it is with a mix of regret, trepidation and contentment that  we have ended our relationship of 24 years as partners. Sadness at the split, but optimistic too and content that we remain special friends and that our "divorce" was completely amicable. h

We are like the United States and the United Kingdom. We share a common heritage, language (well, NZ English is so very different to that of the Queen!, eh Bro?) and both hold the same ideals, values, history and collective memories. 

We still have many of the same common goals in life, but just have slightly varying ways of getting there. Our lives are still entwined, indeed after that length of time we have a compendium of memories; of treasured holidays, much loved pets departed, pets still present, scores of shared friends and relatives, and the accumulated possessions from 11 homes that we have lived in together. We continue as better friends, ones that understand each other completely, and are richer because of that.

Of course this opens up new blogging possibilities as I settle down to the life of a single man again, exploring the world of dating, single shopping and meals for one. Yet this also too brings freedom and the chance to soar like a bird to heights as yet unexplored.