What's a gralefrit?

Asked a hapless customer in Fawlty Towers one morning at breakfast;

“grapefruit”, was Polly’s retort, clearly used to Basil’s typing of the menu.

This was appropriate really, for his cursory and flippant rapport with his guests was almost as acidic as the juice of this most majestic of citric fruits.

And just like some breakfasts, I would like to start this entry with a grapefruit.

Not just one but a host of enormous plump ripe fruit, all ready for picking, in fact so heavy that the fall from the boughs like drunk squirrels.

For at the bottom of our new garden stands an impressive fruit tree, thick with heavy juicy grapefruit, a marmalade makers delight…

But alas not for yours truly. The joys of the gralefrit are now off limits for good, and not just for reasons of bad taste.

My main immunosuppressant tablet is the drug Tacrolimus, which needs to be ingested at a steady dose at the same time intervals so as not to build up an excess in the system. Too much Tacrolimus is dangerous and can cause organ rejection, just as much as not taking the drug. A finely balanced existence then, one which the grapefruit does it’s best to upset.

And now the science part:

The juice of the fruit reacts with the ketoconazole present in the blood which affects drastically the levels of an enzyme that interact with the Tacrolimus. Studies therefore have shown that the Tac can both increase and decrease, which has a seriously detrimental effect on the use of Tac as an immune suppressant.

So this time honoured breakfast staple is off limits for good.

Which is ironic, given that we are abundant with the malicious fruit.

Move Closer

Was it Nelson Mandela who uttered those immortal words “Hey Baby, you go your way, and I’ll go mine, but in the meantime…Move Closer”? No, it was another Nelson; Phyllis,  in fact, who crooned her way to a UK number 1 in 1985.

Perhaps Ms Nelson’s interest was aroused by the sight of a Pickford’s removal van, perhaps not, who can tell? 

This week, however, I myself have been inspired by the process of relocation.

We have been on the move this week, shifting our chattels within the local environment like a particularly magnetic snail. The delights and glories of Arkles Bay have been replaced by the equally delightful and glorious suburb of Manly, whose world renowned beach attracts literally tens of people to the wide expanse of flat damp sand, miniature dunes and  expensive real estate.

Resolutely occupied by the older community, mainly due to the level terrain, leafy lanes, and complimented by the proximity of mothballs available at the local mall, traditionally, the only surfers here are of the silver haired kind.

But this locale is slowly changing as more and younger purchasers wrest control of the demographics: with lifestyle factors such as being handy to the shops, beach, transport, entertainment and a pleasant commute into Auckland.

So now Manly is our new home, complete with the same doctors and same pharmacy as before.

So my medical needs are unchanged, which is one less thing to worry about. 

Unlike the unpacking.

Eye to Eye

A track gifted to us by the buxom diva, Chaka Khan, who, I must admit, I thought was the name of an Indian cricketer with a particularly deadly arm swing.
However "Chucker" then out of nowhere threw a googley, smashing not stumps but the charts with "I feel for you" in 1984..
Clearly optically inspired Ms Khan carried  on with hit after hit, and was graciously "honoured" by Whitney Houston who covered her "I'm Every Woman" and featured her with an appearance in the video, with Ms Houston gesticulating and repeating "Chaka Khan" throughout. Once the novelty wore off this became somewhat of an irritation...Yes of course its Chaka Khan  Surely your people talked to her people? How many lost disco divas accidentally stumble upon a video shoot, of a cover of their own song....?

Anyway  rant over,back to, normality. And after last weeks visual drama interspaced with intense blood "wafting" mine eyes hath returned to approximately 90% of clear vision. The "floaters" are still there, albeit in a very reduced capacity and now resemble a small dark tropical fish flitting around a large transparent fish tank...

And whilst it is still present, it is not as offputting as before and can be largely ignored, bar the occasional check on it's wellbeing.

Just like a sea captain's pet. Aye Aye Cap'n

Bad Manners?

No not some social faux pas uttered in my prescence for me to pounce upon and relish the retort, but instead the ska band of the very early eighties , who jumped up the British charts with hits such as Can Can, Special Brew and Lip Up Fatty. Fronted by their wobbly bald headed lout of a lead singer, they garnered the public' attention and affection.
Of course he had to have the de rigeur weird name, and this gentleman revelled in the nom de plume "Buster Bloodvessel". Oh such wit.And it is with this epithet that we delve back into my world, where Buster has indeed been seen....

My right eye has fallen foul of the old diabetic retinothapy, with the result being a small blood bleed into my vitreous gel (The squigdy clear bit that sits behind the pupil and the iris, into which flow the retinal arteries.

Now with the grim harbingers of  diabetes and age the poor old arteries have a tendency occasionally to leak, releasing a small  escape of blood into the vitreous gel. This results in the eyesight of that eye being interrupted by a layer of black streaks and waves which move with  the sight as the eye moves. A very odd and slightly disorientating sensation. It feels like there is a  ghastly ephereal spirit phantasmagorically weaving and flowing in front of your eyes. It begins at first from dark concentrated spots in the field of vision, like black holes, leaking antimatter into the visual universe. Rapidly they spread out and grow in stature, until they affect the entire organ.

In cinematic terms they are the equivalent of the spectral visions emanaiting from the Ark of the Holy Covenant when it is finally opened by the naughty Nazi archeologists, except my phantoms are quite harmless.

At first the effect is so distracting that covering that eye improved the sight for reading, driving and watching TV.After a day or so the patterns start to dissipate as the blood starts ti dissolve onto the vitreous gel, which is 99% water. They then start to appear translucent  and elongated, like a black Aureola Borealis.
And suddenly after a week or so they vanish and the eyesight is left unblemished and clear once more.

These floaters seem to be linked to high blood pressure, and this time the catalyst would be lifting boxes of ornaments during our ongoing house move. So shall be more careful for the rest of the packing and unpacking boxes.

I didn't really appreciate Buster Bloodvessel and his music intruding into my aural world in the 80's and now I dont like the intrusion into my visual world,
After all turning up and hanging around when you are not invited is the height of bad manners.