Short Fat Fannie

Of course not  a personal reference...., although I am not the tallest of persons. Indeed mine would be spelt "Fanny" and would be called a bottom, since I don't speak American.

No this was a 1957 smash hit for blues singer Larry Williams.  This rock n roll number was one of the first "novelty" records and was featured by many other groups in their touring sets, including The Beatles, who played in their cinematic homage to excellence, 1969's Let it Be.

He was also a firm friend of Little Richard....

Since diminutive seems to be the order of the day, it would be appropriate to mention the amount of time spent at my last transplant clinic.....16 minutes. That includes from the electronic ticket barrier opening, parking, walking to the clinic, sitting and waiting in the "waiting" room for the doctor.

My doctor having quickly reviewed my blood tests,was most pleased, and I was soon sent off on my merry little way. I was back at the ticket machine and out of the car park in a flash.

I know this because the ticket machine told me my length of visit and charged me ....zero. Parking for visits of less than 30 minutes are free! 

Which is gratifying to know. many times I have been short changed by that particular little machine.

The Politics of Dancing

Amongst other things 1984 gave us; a George Orwell revival, more Ronald Reagan, and this little songs by Reflex in which the politicians became DJ's playing hits across the nation. A respectable yet lowly entry at number 27 in the charts....
1984 also saw David Lange win the NZ General Election and turned the country into a land of nuclear free hobbits. 

New Zealand went to the polls again last weekend, and the nation was subjected to a bitter campaign of dirty politics and various sideshows. The nation spoke as one however, and the current party was reinstalled like a vague Apple update....No one really understood the point but it doesn't seem to cause any damage to the status quo...

This was only my second general election here, as for the first four years I was prevented nay prohibited from enrolling. Like Emmeline Pankhurst and her merry band of agitated suffragettes, I was like many tax payers in this country, unable to vote.

The reason? In New Zealand you have to be a New Zealand citizen or Permanent Resident to enrol. Due to the damaging nature of long term diabetes and therefore the likelihood of renal failure I was denied a visa, and therefore the right to stay and the the right to vote. This was due to the cost of  my care on the public health system :(

Four years of fighting immigration and various appeals finally worked and in 2008 I was given official residency. Since then I've received a new kidney, a new pancreas, and regular drugs costing at least $25,000 a year to fund.....

Now that sounds like the sort of manifesto I'd vote for, and no dancing whatsoever.

Imagine.

Arguably the best record in the world ever.....

A stellar recording by an influential rock genius, recorded when I was a wee lad in 1971. The disc shot to prominence after Lennon's untimely death in December 1980, just as I was an easily influenced spotty teen. It was soon number 1, deposing The St Winifred's School Choir with Grandma. 

Inviting the listener to ponder on the nature of the world and mankind….(not Grandma..)

Talking of wild imaginings, picture if you can the crippling pain caused by a double migraine attack following a week of stress.

Imagine then, that it struck on the Saturday of a busy weekend, simultaneously emulsifying with a viscious attack of influenza.

Continue to envisage then the painful swallows of rapid onset laryngitis, together with the coughing and tight constriction of a chest infection.. Painful? You bet.

Now conceive of a sudden deterioration resulting in an urgent need for accident and emergency services late Saturday night. Now at this point insert the words “consumed alcohol and therefore unable to drive” and phone the ambulance. Imagine further if you will, being packed off all alone in the ambulance, with no money, shoes, 'phone, in fact just a jolly old dressing gown.

And conjure up the horror of trying to dial home after being discharged at 7am, only to have your calls go unanswered and being forced to pay $100 for a taxi ride home…still in a dressing gown.

Now visualise that all these nasties had happened to you, how would you feel?

Especially if your partner had had a kidney pancreas operation, had been a diabetic all their life, and had been rushed many times to hospital and probably should be a tad more empathetic....

Ono!

Take that to the Bank

There it is, said Shalamar as they scoured the High Streets looking for somewhere to stash their top 40 gold. No doubt hunting in vain for a HSBC or Midland bank. This hit from 1978 added to that vast horde of riches.

On a completely unrelated vein, I was embraced by the warm and friendly glow seeping from the local team of phlebotomists at Labtests on Saturday.
As usual I strayed into the corporately fashioned designer interior, imbued with a warm inviting slick gloss of caring responsibility.....but still sterile none the less. I took a seat, then returned it. After a while an exotic voice called me over and directed me to room 4. I followed her orders and took another chair following the man in front of me as I went....

After the by now well rehearsed pleasantries, we settled into our respective roles. For the her, the ever efficient health professional, for me the slightly squeamish and agliophobic customer.

"Can you please confirm your name and date of  birth please"

Why yes certainly I can, the sight of impending blood doesn't actually cause my memory to fail.

"And for security reasons, your address"

For security reasons !? Was this in fact the SIS, (New Zealand's top intelligence bureau, with more spooks than a haunted house fair ride)

"Sorry, force of habit, I used to work in a bank" she weakly smiled. More embarrassed perhaps by her past employment in these recession hit times, rather than her slightly foolish mistake?

In a bank? I laughingly retorted....Shall I utilise that obvious pun? Yes let's do it...

Was it a blood bank? Ha! A stunning punning victory for me I think!

"No" she replied, flatly "it was Westpac"

Nothing. No smile, no laugh or wink, no acknowledgment of the recent linguistic tool whatsoever.

I felt like a total clot.

Video killed the Radio Star?

Or so Buggles mused in 1979, when the future seemed bright and goggly, more UVF than VHF.
Not so says the radio in the background, frantically waving it's antennae and speakers about in a frankly cheesy manner.

As the world  fast forwarded, we watched the epic cellulose battle between Beta and VHS, and still the the dear old wireless went from strength to strength. Video shops boomed everywhere. Soon every house had a video recorder, complete with enormous cabinets housing huge libraries of bulky rectangular tapes. 
I remember the language firmly asserting itself in our collective consciousness. We started to "tape" stuff, and forgetting to "set the video" became a national sport. How many of us can remember "taping over" a cherished memory with a hastily recorded EastEnders, or Brookside replacing the Royal Wedding.
But now the video is  dead, killed by shiny new plastic discs, and digital downloads are now the norm.

Why then do I still want to "tape" Sky? Or when I press series link, do I then affirm that I have set the video? 

On a similar vein, I occasionally wonder whether I have missed my evening injection, or I forgotten to go to dialysis! So much for 40 years of conditioning and habits.

Oh well, time to eject this thought and get on with playing the programme..