My Life with Andrew

Steep inclines and declines

It must be almost exactly twenty years ago that I first met Andrew. I was auditioning for a newly-to-be-formed theatre company that was going to tour Romania for a month, playing on the streets, at orphanages and theatres. Together with his friend Michael, Andrew was doing the selections.  I was quite intimidated by these guys. I hadn’t done a lot of improv before and these two just seemed to be able to conjure a whole lot of nonsense out of thin air. Clowns, in the true sense of the word. I didn’t do very well during the auditions, but hoped they would still take me, on account of the good vibe between us and the fact that I could play some musical instruments. And indeed, I made it through the selection and we went. It was the beginning of a life-long friendship.

Michael and Andrew, always ready to do another show, after the show.

During that month in Romania, which was pretty life-altering for each of us, we really got to know each other.  I found Andrew very easy to talk to and confide in. He always seemed to know exactly what was going on. At the same time, his sharp humour was often mistaken by the other girls for sexism, but I found his somewhat cynical attitude quite refreshing, so we ended up hanging out together quite a lot. 

'Compost' theatre company in Romania

After a couple of weeks, we had a few days off and the group split into little sub-groups. Andrew wanted to go walking in the Carpatians and Michael and I decided to join him, though the route was labelled as ‘very difficult’. The fact that Andrew had a sore knee didn’t deter him in the least. Of course, at the time I didn’t know he had been running up and down the Austrian mountains in his youth. We were amazingly unprepared, with very little food and water. After nine long hours we finally made it to the bottom of the mountain, where we jumped into the river, nearly dying of thirst. Of course, we had not arranged any accommodation either, but luckily we came upon some scouting camp, where a man pointed us to a farmhouse at the end of the town (Bran), where we could spend the night. It turned out to be a Baptist commune. One of the first things Andrew asked was: “Where can I take a shower?” His request was met by roars of laughter and one of the men pointed to a cold tap in the middle of the courtyard. 

At the Baptist commune

That evening we sat around trying to communicate with the people from the commune. I decided that a song is always a good way when one doesn’t know the language. The ladies responded with such loud chainsaw-style singing that Andrew had to turn off his hearing-aid. The next day we could barely walk, even a two-inch step would hurt our poor legs. In the town of Bran there is a castle, which is supposedly Dracula’s castle, where Andrew and I first came up with our fake sword-play and the word ‘Tsching!”, which we would use henceforth to celebrate whenever we had conquered a problem. It was an adventure we would never forget.

'Tsching!' at Bran castle

After Romania, we always kept in touch. We went to Michael’s wedding, where we bitched about everything that was wrong about the proceedings. My husband and I went to Andrew and Lucy’s wedding and they came to ours. There were some serious ups and downs in our relationship. Once, when Andrew and Michael were visiting Amsterdam, Andrew got so angry when I made an (only slightly) politically incorrect joke about people with learning difficulties that he completely blasted me to pieces. I was shocked and surprised, because he wasn’t exactly the most politically correct person on the planet, but I realised that these people had a special place in his heart. And perhaps his own sense of being an outsider made him extra sensitive. For a moment it seemed our friendship was over.

'Compost' admiring great Romanian wig

But when you’ve become like family to each other, the friendship is never over. You’re stuck together, for better and for worse. How unfair life is, that it had to get so much worse for Andrew.

The last time I saw him when he was still able to talk, he made a list of the things he had accomplished in his life. He knew he had done good work. He was extremely proud of his son Ethan. He was very happy with his theatrical successes. He loved the travels he had done. He had only one regret, he said, and that was that he should have had more sex. Typical! 

His very last adventure with myself and Andrea is already becoming a classic. We were visiting and he wanted to go to Saltburn. He insisted on taking his electric wheelchair, which made me think in hindsight that he had planned the whole thing beforehand. He wanted to go down to the beach, but the road from Saltburn town is very steep. He must have reckoned that Andrea and I would not have been able to wheel him down in his normal wheelchair. We thought it was very dangerous and irresponsible to go down, what with the heavy traffic and all, but, stubborn as he was, he scooted off on his own. He was not to be deterred, just like that time in the Carpatians. When trying to take a hairpin bend, he lodged himself into a fence. With great difficulty, we dragged him loose. The decline was so steep that even the breaks from the wheelchair couldn’t hold the weight. He went up the hill, seemingly docile, but then turned around and did the same thing all over again! With the help of a strong passer-by we managed to get him down the hill, where we had fish and chips, looking out over the sea. Andrew even had a couple of chips himself, though at that stage he was already on astronaut food. I had to admit that it had been worth it. Sometimes you can be too careful. He, now famously, said (with his Ipad voice) that “Life isn’t worth living if you can’t have any adventures.” A lesson to us all.

At the house, he showed us piles of photographs and old film footage of his life. Then we said goodbye. “Come again,” were his last words, spoken with his Klaus ‘speak-it’ voice.  But he left us too soon.

Andrew scooting off into the distance