The Boys of Summer

Flapped Don Henley in his flight away from the Eagles, perching high in its' eyrie amidst the charts of 1985. A number 2 from 1985 no less.

The video for which featured various stages in Henley’s life, with a strong focus on youth.

and displaying athletic aquatic prowess, all in stylish black and white.

Of course he wasn’t referring to my local resort, the oddly named Manly, which delights in the distinctly separated Big Manly and Little Manly beaches,

where last week, during the stiflingly humid NZ summer, I found myself being coerced into the waves.  Gasps of horror ensue. I am as fond of the sea as is a camel, the ship of the desert.

Although hailing from a nation of maritime adventurers, I doubt whether Britain would have been deemed as “Great” if Drake, Nelson and Bligh had been enthused by my particular loathing of the sea, being more like Cap'n Birdseye:

Not from an inability to swim, I am a perfectly proficient swimmer, thank you. (Just imagine a backpedaling otter).

No, 'tis the cold water, seaweed  and the saltiness which I dislike. So having being brought up on annual sojourns to such temperate hotspots as Cromer, Grange over Sands and the Isle of Wight, my dislike of  the briny swells that surround our coasts has been long entrenched.

I have managed to avoid Neptune’s empire so far, bar a brief spell in the warm seas in Fiji, (where I burnt my foot on hot sand and developed an infected appendage, thanks to my diabetes)

And so it remained, until this week.

While bush fires sweep Australia and NZ’s South Island, the heat down under this summer has driven me down to the sea, to dip my toe in the warm expanse of the Tasman Sea.  And what a pleasant experience it has been. Big Manly beach is blessed with warm sandy safe waters, with not too many visitors to witness my doggy paddle and back flops. Like a gracious narwhal I spear through the small waves, only to emerge spluttering with a mouthful of salty water and in dire need of some eye rubbing. But what fun, and only a three minute walk from the comfort of a shower back home!

Excellent, and I only put on 200g over the Christmas period, aided perhaps by my new found buoyancy?  The buoys of summer indeed.

Tempus Fugit

And so the New Year has passed uneventfully, apart from the small matter of 3,000 screaming teenagers swaggering and jostling their way to the park next to our rented holiday apartment in the kiwi seaside town of Whangamata. A thronged mass of pimpled, drainpipe wearing youth advanced to the sea front, tonsorial spikes a flutter, as they texted and facebooked their New Year salutations to all and sundry. The glow of their cell phones lit up the night sky like the annual convention of NZ glowworm fanciers.

Whangamata, beachside surf town of 5,000 people, swells to 30.000 over Christmas and the New Year, with hordes of surfers, beach types, fishers, and families looking for a traditional NZ holiday:

For those of you with no knowledge of Maori pronunciation  allow me to explain the shibboleth:

Whangamata, (which means in English: whanga = bay,  mata = obsidian stones) does not end with the rhyming sound matter, but rather ma tar, and so locals know the towns as Fong-a-matar.

Anyway, thyme is of the essence, as they say in herb flavour enhancing factories...

A swift review of a couple of  blog stats for last year:

I managed 59 posts in all, which as all you mathematical genii will instantly know equates to....
(I'm waiting for a mathematical genius to tell me)

1.13 posts per week, or just under 5 posts a month.

There have been over 15,000 visitors to the site, with the majority hailing from The UK, the USA and then Russia.

The most popular post was Breakfast at Tiffanys, closely followed by Ra Ra Rasputin.
Clearly Boney M gets googled frequently, as does Rasputin, but I suspect the main reason for it's popularity lies with the inclusion of Russian billionaire and Chelsea FC boss, Roman Abramovich blatantly swearing in cyrillic, which obviously pleases the dry Russian sense of humour.

Yes my world is a silly place, full of frolics and general silliness, so please drop in from time to time to check my updates. This year I hope to branch out to Google+ and perhaps tumblr to enable easier posting and updates, but we shall see.

If you are on Facebook  please use the 'like' button if you read my blog posts and I encourage you to leave comments. Sometimes blogging feels like a very one sided process.

 If you are not on Facebook, why not?? (and who isnt these days it?) posts gets tweeted as well.

Happy New Year.

On the first day of Christmas.

My transplant gave to me.....

Hot Summer Nights...

No not filled with Olivia and Johnny, wella wella wella. Tell me more. Tell me more.

Indeedy. I've been spending some much needed "family time" over the Christmas holidays, in the Coromandel; Auckland's backyard water playground.

Of course it is now well into Summer in the "other" hemisphere, and we are replete with sun lotions, bug repellents, shorts a plenty and of course enough pills to stock a small regional health facility. (bloghoppers will remember the 'pill forgetting' fiasco of last year.

Everything has been packed, checked and rechecked and the long hot summer days are consequently stress free and enjoyable........albeit a tad warm.

The 94% humidity is a bit too much for a wee Brit sweltering in the colonies...made much worse by my Prednisone tablets. Essential to prevent organ rejection, they have the undesired effect of raising body temperature. Any sign of rejection presumably would be boiled away!!!

So here we are on holiday; bowling in the arcade, drinking lemonade, splashing around....

With all this extra heat these traditional Kiwi holiday activities just sound like a drag.....

 

We built this city...

Proclaimed Starship (ex Jefferson Starship) in the lovely summer of 1985, a huge hit the world over. Indeed it made such an impression that it has been regularly voted the worst hit of all time by MTV viewers. Ahhh.....altogether now....

"Someone always playing corporation games
Who cares they're always changing corporation names"

Became the mantra of the era, as companies merged and were swallowed up in aggesive takeovers. I remember when the beastly Burtons made a successful bid for poor little old Debenhams in 1985. The "Hands off Debenhams" badge I wore was the closest I came to the shoulder padded corporate takeover world...

With this came the the age of the corporate art, where "approved" work was displayed for the benefit of  staff and customers alike. Baaahhh what a pretty picture....Baaaaahh

One such example still in existence in 2012 can be found at the Labtests blood collection centres across this fair city of Auckland:

I know it is their "corporate choice" for I have visited several clinics, and it is there on every wall..

I find it odd that Labtests went for a depiction of  Tibetan families, a scattering of assorted Asian/Oriental  abodes, a man in a green parker, a MOD scooter, a container space ship house,  and several wabbits.
Perhaps it represents the wealth of cultures that we have in our fair burg, or the many different conditions that they test for, or just their corporate art consultant had eaten yak burgers the day before.

Every time I go for my blood harvesting I am drawn deeper into the mural, so much that I shall soon require a passport to visit it. It has become quite a favourite of mine, better than the offerings on display in several global chains the world over.
I particularly enjoy the architecture involved.

We built this city? Especially if the city may be Lhasa or Ulan Bator

Like Jesus to a Child....

A suitably melancholic rendition by George Michael  from  1996 as he climbed back atop the UK chart once more. The proceeds of this record sale (when we used to have records) went to charity, and the song was dedicated to the memory of George’s erstwhile lover who passed away quietly.

Which sets the tone this week...

My  outlook is generally upbeat  in nature but this week I am left felling a bit sad.

One of the blogs I regularly follow and which gave me  the creative muse for starting my own self penned weblog  is called Amaorican….

It details the experiences of a girl in New Zealand, married to an American, Larry.. He is on haemo-dialysis, having problems with immigration, adjusting to life in a new country, getting to experience new foods, new healthcare, new family… a very similar story to my life down under.

Except that 7 days ago he died.

 From a dialysis related problem:

 Unfortunately Larry became heavily overloaded with fluid and his organs were struggling to cope. 15 hours of dialysis was urgently prescribed to alleviate the pressure on his heart, but he passed away during the marathon session..

Rather bravely his partner, Camilla continues with her blog which is at times uncomfortable to read, but is a real tribute to her love and respect for her partner.

Amaorican.....

I cast my mind back to the many occasions during my two years on dialysis, remembering those times I was overloaded with fluid and considerably above my target weight.  This can be caused be drinking too much fluid, forgetting to take certain types of medicine, or it can be a sign of  something more serious.

Thankfully the 4 hour sessions of dialysis brought it down again, and this became routine.

So often we just laugh off the precautionary tales from the doctors as mere anecdotes, or indulge  in “that won’t happen to me” syndrome.  Alas this approach does not always play out well, and I am mindful of the sacrifices that have been made by so many people to help end my dependence on the dialysis regime, which although crucial in keeping some renal patients alive can be as damaging to long term prospects.

So Camilla ,I will miss your witty updates about Larry and your on-going sagas of life on dialysis in a far flung land, and dealing with the unknown, but hopefully you will continue to write and allow other people to see what some people have to endure without a word of complaint.