Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man

Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man ©

By

Michael Casey

Somebody else used that title, a guy in Ireland, but I think you’ll find that my writing is far far easier to understand, and maybe much more fun. Who would you rather study at GCSE? I did of course try and read the other guy’s book but 40 years ago and more I just found it to be a right pain. So now that tomorrow marks the 30^th anniversary since I finished The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, perhaps I should go back and read the other guy’s book. In fact I’m lying as tomorrow is 28th Feb 2018, when in fact it was 29^th Feb 1988 that I finished my masterpiece or is it master of the pees?

A lot has happened in the past 30 years, I met and married in improbable circumstances. I had a wedding day and a class reunion for 25 years on the same day, great time management there. Including doing chemical equations on napkins in MacDonald’s with a PhD in Biochemistry, not me, my bride and my best friend. Then on to a bar and telling my nice postman that I had been Shanghaied literally.

My hair had got more and more wrinkly and silver in colour just like my own mother, you may even think my mother is me in drag should you see the photo. I used to be very strong, almost half as strong as Lech, Boris and Gregorgi my imaginary Polish, Ukrainian and Russian cousins who appear sometimes on my page. Ok, I’m lying 1/3 as strong as the likes of them, but very strong compared to Birmingham folk. The Trio have looked up from their spot at the bar and given me the thumbs up, or I think it was the thumbs up, you can never tell with them. They are warming themselves up before going out into the snow, they drive snow ploughs, what else do you the think they would do. Sit at home playing Ludo and Snakes and Ladders? No the Trio have to be out being useful it is their nature.

These past 30 years have gone so fast, what else has happened? I discovered sleeping in the nude. The Trio have just puked and headed out into the snow storm. But when you have your own place for the first time there is no need of pyjamas. This is great freedom. Then you get married and have daughters so you have to start wearing pyjamas again, or a dressing gown around the house.

Having a quadruple heart bypass means you have to wear PJs in bed again. Why? Well because the scars on both legs and chest can be so sensitive that the bed-sheets rubbing against them makes you jump and even scream. Yes, even 3 years later my left nipple is so sensitive. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi just tapped at the window, but now they have driven the snow ploughs off into the blizzard. Pray that Saint Michael himself looks after them, I’m sure they are his favourites.

What else has happened these past 30 years? Well I’ve gone past 1,260,000 Words now spread over 15 books on Amazon. But remember I am not the Monk, nor the Irish guy, no not James Joyce, but somebody sharing my name. Just look for my silly face and then you’ll find me and my 15 books. 15 Down is my latest, though a 15 down duvet would be very good in this weather.

My writing is simple, just like me, because I want as many people as possible to understand and like it. Not get confused by over long and pretentious sentences. Never talk down to people, just talk, as if you are in a bar with Lech, Boris and Gregorgi having a drink. Never be such a bad writer that people would rather go out and drive that snow plough. And no I didn’t bore the Trio.

Style in writing does make a difference. The Book Thief is the best book I’ve read in my life. Its a 10 and I am a 1 by comparison. Though I would say that some commercial writers may be commercial but for actual writing quality they can be rubbish. If the style is so bad I just cannot read a book, even if the plot is supposed to be good. Making people smile as they read is what I’m about, or if I’m being serious I want people to think, they may not agree with me but I hope that because of the style they will keep on reading. Or maybe you have stopped reading already. I can get Lech, Boris and Gregorgi to pay you a visit at your local pub. The bar bill would bankrupt you, so be nice to me.

Joking apart, the story has to flow, yes as much as the Japanese vodka did when the Trio won that singing competition. If you explain things too much then its boring, if the rhythm isn’t there then the story is bad. It really is in the telling, as Frank Carson used to say. Remember I had years practice telling stories when I worked in a hotel at the front of house. The front of house manager even said I had an “act” which is a bit cruel. But if I had 100,000 micro-conversations over 3 years then that would transfer into the writing. Everything you do or say or feel all goes into the soup that is your life. And when you write a story you are a dinner lady ladling out stories onto the page. Well that’s the way I see it, though I could just be my own mother in drag.

I want to be a radio star, a love story

Stumbling back here

Stumbling back here,its 27th Feb 2018. After 30+ years of writing I have yet to be discovered. Because I'm not on Anti-Social Media, and I'm not going to hawk books outside the local supermarket. Maybe I should, but I am not an American, a salesman. I just write the stuff and hope my readers like it too. Then when I have a load of stories I compile them into a book. 1300 to 1600 stories now. 1,260,000 words or so spread over the 15 books. My next book when it reaches 100,000 words will be called Sweet 16 and then I'll launch it on Amazon. Leap Year's Day 1988 was when I finished The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, half my lifetime ago. Sadly a life carrying stuff has caught up with my Health, so all I am good for is writing stories. Usually in one hour I'm done because I'm very quick. Then I take 30 mins to load to my sites and do my backup securities. SECURITY IS EVERYTHING. You have been warned. I was a computer operator most of my working life, so I speak from experience. I have readers in 26 different countries that's why I think my writing could be used to teach English as a 2nd language. I do have a Shanghai wife as well and I did do ESOL. That's as far as my sales pitch goes. And yes I really did get 21,000 Polish readers just by word of mouth in 3 weeks for a Translation of the Finale of The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker. Today its cold and snowing and sadly I can no longer go out and make a snowman, as I was able to do till I was 50. Now If I tried I'd be dead the snow.

127.I want to be a radio star a love story

I have recorded 207 out of my 1300 to 1600 stories.  But I've stopped recording until somebody in the world asks for more.Its 11hours of my voice and stories. Here  on this site you are spared, you just get 50 stories I think.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC   to buy an read my 15 books

Old Books

Old Books ©

By

Michael Casey

I was looking around the room looking for an object to inspire a story when I glanced over and saw 2 paperbacks abandoned on the piano, and that was enough, so tonight before the big snow arrives I’ll be talking about Old Books. The 2 on the piano were brand new, but sadly the print size was so small I could not even read them. So rather than waste them I told my small daughter to hand them into the charity shop she in volunteering at. You have to do a bit of volunteering to get your Duke of Edinburgh thingy. Personally I’d just go to Edinburgh for the Festival and forget the Duke, not unless it was a name of a pub. Having just said that I can remember there was a pub near my church that one of my old school mate’s dad was the landlord there, William Francis where are you now?

So back to books, why do we like books? We like books because of the story inside them. Though marketing people will tell you a good cover and plurb at the back will sell the book. The smell and touch of a new book is a great thing too, not as good as a girlfriend, not as soft or smelling as nice, but a nice feel to a book is always good, and you can drink in the perfume from the pages.

In Birmingham we had Hudsons on New Street which was a rabbit warren of a bookshop and I really enjoyed visiting there 40 years ago. Modern bookshops are nice but Hudsons was special, if ever you visit Birmingham bow down before where it used to be, then visit Waterstones.

Or go to our new super dupper Central Library with its pretentious title, which is so good and expensive that the council cannot afford to keep it open. The opening hours have been restricted. The purpose of a Library is to share knowledge not just to be a monument of modern architecture. If all it becomes is a monument and it is not open for as long as possible to share knowledge then something has gone wrong. You decide for yourselves. A simple design of an open book, with the spine housing lifts and stairs would have been one quarter of the price and allowed Knowledge to be Shared, not shuttered and closed.

I sidetracked myself there, but the book was a revolution which allowed knowledge to be shared, and for our masters not to monopolise learning. So books took away the power of the master, pity in Birmingham a Big Idea ruining the meaning of Library. A Library is to share books and learning, and it can only do that if it is open.

Where was I, old books we keep because we treasure them, if we have finished with a book we can pass it on via the charity shop, but a treasured book we keep. I will keep The Book Thief, Don Camillo, a history book given to me 50 years ago when I let Primary school. These are precious books. You may not look at these precious books, but they are part of you like family photos. They are part of the architecture of your life, they are building blocks that help form your character. I have reread Don Camillo a few times and was reading it when my Italian heart surgeon took a look at me 3 years ago prior to my bypass operation. Though originally my History teacher 40 years ago suggested I read it.  

The Graveyard Book is another favourite book that I would not throw away, though I would never throw any book away, they are too precious, share them or pass them on, or give them to a charity shop. It’s written by the guy behind Coroline, but you can google. I used to have 100 paperbacks in my collection after I grew out of Spring Hill Library. However when you move house you cannot take everything with you, so they were abandoned, though a few sacred books were spared. Sacred is the correct word, if the book has been so much fun or you enjoyed it so much then you will keep it. It is not a Holy book per say but to you it has great significance.

The Art of Coarse Rugby used to be a favourite book because I had reached grammar school and I played rugby, if its still in print or if you can find it in a charity shop its worth a read. In those days rugby was played by mainly professional people at weekends, so its a great comic read.

I also keep an AtoZ map book in my book collection, nowadays everybody uses SatNav or an app or look on the computer. So in the future if I live long enough to see any grandkids I can show them  map book, and show them how to look up an address. Though that would be classed as old school.

Books teach us and guide us and amuse us. The 15 books I’ve written so far in my life are meant to amuse, I don’t expect anybody to keep or treasure any of them. They are just pieces of chocolate to be enjoyed with a coffee. They are guilt pleasures to be enjoyed and maybe never spoken of or shared. Perhaps somebody might keep a copy of The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker because the title is at least good. Or they keep 300 and Not OUT because they thought it was a cricket book.

I’ll never know, that’s all in the Future, I just hope The Book survives the future, even if libraries are built like books in a very cheap utilitarian form and not as great palaces that are closed because councils cannot afford to run them.

Snow Limits

 Snow Limits ©

By Michael Casey

I’ve just watched a cartoon on the tv about The Snowman’s parents life. We have all seen the animation The Snowman, Walking in the Air being the music that goes with it. I had not intended watching it but I was overruled by the wife, Harry Potter film was recorded and not watched. I’m glad we watched the animation about Raymond Brigg’s parents Ethel and Ernest, it was very well made and reminded me of my own parents.

My dad came to England in 1944 and spent the end of the war fire watching and working in a steel works. Having a few beers was also in order, one of his friends was placed on a bench in Victoria Park Smethwick to sober up, and it was there that dad came tumbling off his bicycle, and got shouted at in the blackout by a policeman.

So watching the Raymond Briggs animation mirrored my dad’s life and brought back many memories. We had an air raid shelter too, Anderson shelter to  give it its full name. Ours was full of rainwater and stunk. My brother tricked me into going inside via a plank, and once I was on an inside on a ledge at the back he withdrew the plank and I was forced to wade through stinking black water to make my escape. So I have stinking memories of that air raid shelter.

In the Summer the metal of the air raid shelter heated up and was a favourite place for cats to sun bathe and for my sister to sit and read, this would be back in the late 1960s. Then dad decided to dig the air raid shelter up. I remember that my brother who had trapped me inside was tasked with digging it up. This is harder than you imagined as it had concrete foundations a few inches thick, maybe 6 inches. Finally when the task was done the shelter was moved to the family garden and re-bolted back together.

All these memories came back because of the cartoon I saw a few minutes ago.We also had a garden shed made from an air raid shelter, so when we had a new big wooded garden shed the old shed was dismantled and placed in the other garden where our lodging house was.  A bit like musical Anderson Shelters, no bombs falling.

Then our lodger decided to put a central floor inside his, so it became posh. I was close to the lodger he was like an extra uncle to me, so I copied him and laid a full floor in the original dug up air raid shelter which was now at the bottom of the family garden. I started by the fence which formed a wall to the side of the shelter. And moved towards the door. By pure chance this gave a camphor to the floor, I also ended covered in filth, the blue bricks were all neatly laid as I had dug the soil up to slot them into position. I suppose those bricks may be quite expensive now as they are 100 plus years old now.

The cartoon tonight showed the old style bread bins, I have ours under our kitchen sink it must be over 60 years old now. There was also a mangle for squeezing the water out of the washing, but you have to separate the rollers when all the washing is done or they stick like glue together. Mum forgot once and when dad was finally able to force the rollers open, and dad was as strong as an Ox, there was a bite left in one of the rollers.

So as you can can imagine many many memories came flooding back tonight, even the fact that his dad was a milkman. An old school friend whom I used to play rugby with in 1970s, because we were a grammar school, his dad was a milkman, and Benny Hill had a number one hit with Ernie, the Fastest Milkman in the West.

It was also mentioned about how special it was to go to grammar school. I can tell you something about grammar schools and Inner Cities. In my family 4 of us went to Grammar school, then 2 of my brothers went to Oxford and Cambridge. Our neighbour 4 doors up, 2 of his went to Grammar school, and then both went to Oxford, he was a mad labour bus driver.  A third child was sent to Elocution lessons.

Further up the same road we had a PhD in mathematics. And around the corner, the son of a nurse and a crane driver was a PhD and his daughter is a medical Doctor. What did all of us have in common, we all went to Mass at Saint Patrick’s and the boys were all altar servers there. So I don’t believe your environment dictates what you are. Hard work and love dictated what you can be.

I would love for my book The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker to be cartoonised or on the radio, or to be honest just for any of you to read its 600 pages. Perhaps you have to be famous first before that happens, it does start slowly after all and Americans especially love fast things, like food, cars, bucks and women. However they did like Lord of the Rings and if any of you need reminding, I am a Birmingham writer too.  

Cold Comforts

Cold Comforts ©

By

Michael Casey

Forgive me my Polish and Ukrainian readers, if 20cm of snow is called a lot of snow here UK. Cold Comfort is a phrase too, and there is Cold Comfort Farm the book, so that’s something for you to investigate if you think today’s piece is rubbish. Though I could say I’ve been snowed under, which as you know from your English teacher is another English expression.

My small daughter did mention in passing this morning, and in passing could be a very rude expression too. See how words attack your brain with multitudes of meaning. Ok, what did she say? She said English was supposed to be very hard to learn for foreigners, but for her and her sister languages seem quiet easy to learn.

Remember she also speaks Chinese thanks to mum. So she is hard wired for languages, though mum never taught me Chinese, so I speak a bit of French and Spanish to our daughters just to spite my Chinese wife. Speaking of whom she is in Shanghai enjoying a well deserved holiday seeing her own mum.

So while she is far away in Shanghai, I am Home Alone with our teenage daughters and Totoro our female cat. The Cold Comfort I have is that the weather is so cold that the cat does not wake me up to be let out in the middle of the night. My pigs, my daughters never hear her calls, so it is me who has to let the cat out. The cat can now almost say “milk” too when she wants more than the mountains of cat food we have for her. No only milk will do, before she escapes into the night to pretend to belong to several other owners. Apart from these past few nights, as 20cm of frozen snow is too much for even her own fur coat.

I’ve just had a warming coffee before I resume talking to you all, I could be sad as Christmas 2015 was when we decided we’d look for another place and then it was a while before we started to look, and now Christmas 2017 is upon us. Close but no cigar, 2 baths and 4 beds in our price range is hard to find. We did almost get there a few times, remember with my heart and kidneys location of bathrooms or 2^nd toilet is as important as the house location itself. Its cold comfort having 2 toilets if I’d have to climb the stairs 20 times a day to reach it. Cause of death, heart attack brought on by attempting to reach the toilet for his weak kidneys. Though the obituary would be amusing.

Laughter is a comfort always, do you remember when dad wanted to watch the film but did not want to go to the toilet all the time during the film? Yea, I remember. So he threw mum’s poncho over himself and used an empty Polish apple juice bottle to pee into while he continued to watch the film. Luckily he’d only just finished drinking the Polish apple juice, perfect recycling no doubt. But he caught his willy in the bottle, so had go to hospital to have the Polish apple juice bottle removed. No I’m only joking, dad is stupid, but not that stupid.

He filled the bottle up, and then he enjoyed the film so much he even filled a 2^nd Polish apple juice bottle up, with his cloudy apple juice pee. Then he fell asleep. When he woke up he got up too fast and tripped over the poncho tearing it. So he blamed Totoro the cat, he also thought he hadn’t drunk any Polish apple juice, he just thought it was cloudy apple variety. So dad picked up the 2 bottles, that had his own pee in, 4 litres worth and put them back in the fridge.

The next day we had carol singers. I did do carol singing once many a year ago,nearly 50 years ago in fact. Collecting for the Missionaries, but that’s another story. But as for today, when the carol singers came, dad had no change but thought they deserved something. Then he remembered the Polish apple juice which really IS nice. So dad gave the carol singers the 2 bottles of cloudy apple juice to share amongst them. And singing really is thirsty business, so they quickly downed the apple juice, which really was dad’s forgotten pee.

We never ever had carol singers ever again, we did wonder why, dad insisted it was because he’d been so generous they did not want to bother us ever again. And they never did, and dad never did pee in bottles either because in the Spring we found a new house with 2 bathrooms and an added downstairs toilet just for him. But that was cold comfort for the carol singers.   

A Joy, a Life

A Joy, a Life ©

By

Michael Casey

I ended up watching a documentary about Judy Dench, or M from James Bond you may remember her as. It was interesting and reminded me of when I used to go to the Theatre quite often. I was sitting in the good seats and my boss and his wife were in the cheap seats. I once remember seeing a local newsreading celebrity sat in the Hippodrome and wearing an evening dress. Nobody wore those kind of clothes any more, though in the past people used to dress in Sunday best when going to the Theatre, well in England anyway. I don’t know what they do in Brazil, I had a Brazil reader again today so hello to them.

The thing is though if you find something that brings you joy and you can do it for you lifetime, then you are a very lucky person, just like Dame Judy Dench. I was of course a nude model in a female only art class, I could have done that for life but gravity came. And the girls didn’t want to photograph me nude with my scars after my quadruple heart bypass. I have a Pirate scar all the way down my chest, as well as scars down both legs from my naughty bits to my shin bone. So that career has ended.

It did get rather cold so sometimes I kept my socks on, just my socks. I kept a bar of crunchy in my socks, posing naked can be very tiring so I needed a sugar rush. My writing has taken over full time, though I can be found just in my dressing gown as I sit here and talk to you all. But enough of my real life posing, what about the rest of you?

Finding your Joy and turning it into your Life is a great thing. I can remember doing a bit of Presenting in the office over 25 years ago and thinking this is great, I even have a photo of me standing up in front of a blackboard explaining something. A decade later I did my one year as an Esol teacher. I could still do that if you are a millionaire and could afford my fees. Well in my imagination anyway. Not the fees, the Esol I could still do. I hope that all over the world wherever you all read this, you find the English clear and hopefully funny too.

I suppose being a dad is a job for life, my own dad still used to call me boy and I was over 40. Being a dad was the thing I always wanted, even more than women are supposed to long for family.So now I have a young wife and 2 teenage daughters, plus a female cat that sneaked into the house because I though Totoro was a tom. So you could say I have my heart’s desire. But and there always is a but being married with kids and a female cat can be very hard work. It is your life’s work trying to be a good dad, and teenage daughters can be a challenge.

Hey Brazil what do you do with your teenager daughters? Yes you send them to Samba school.If they are dancing they don’t have energy for anything else. I do sneak out at night to get some quality dad time. I am a pole dancer in a Gentlemen’s Club, well I thought the cardio-vascular exercise would be good for me. It also give the girls from the Art college a chance to catch me at my best. Hanging and sliding and gyrating from my Pole and all covered in Cadburys’ chocolate.

Do you need a bucket, the very idea of me naked and covered in chocolate and on a Pole, may be enough to make you sick. Then again I may just have proved to you that MY Joy and Life’s work is telling tale tales to amuse you all. Though Lech, Boris and Gregorgi are puking their guts up into a small bucket. Which is my revenge after they buried me in Warley Woods again. So goodnight everybody 2 tales in a day, that’s a lot, but best of all I can hear applause, well the sound of Lech, Boris and Gregorgi puking into a bucket. 

Influences and Choice

Influences and Choices ©

By

Michael Casey

I was looking out the window enjoying the Winter Sun from inside the warmth of our house, because it’s freezing outside, so I’ll enjoy the sun from inside. The Russian blast that is due hasn’t reached Birmingham yet, but its too cold for me already. I was thinking about what somebody asked me yesterday, can I write when I’m Sad, the answer is No. And I’m not talking about SAD, the disorder due to lack of sunshine. I’m talking about how mood or events influence what I can or cannot write. Because I wrote choices in the title I may go down that route as well.

If there is a tragedy somewhere it affects us all in one way or another, and if we have a connection then the effect is stronger. We say I was there only yesterday, or my uncle used to live there. How could this happen, or they are always driving too fast on that road. All manner of events and small or great connections to the place or the event. So if the connection is strong then you don’t feel like going dancing or to lunch because it wouldn’t feel right,or it puts you off your stride. So it is with me and the writing. I cannot write a comic piece about sausages if there has been a food poisoning in the news, though recently a butcher escaped being locked in his own fridge by using a black pudding as a hammer to escape.

You see I’m not a journalist who’s trained this way or that way, to write about all manner of things, including the terrible and the heart breaking. I hope I write funny stuff normally, as an antidote to some of sadnesses I have witnessed in life. I don’t want to bore you all about my pains, though I do mention them from time to time. I’d rather lead you down the garden path to laughter. I hope you enjoy my style, I could not write in the rubbish style of some publications, though you could all be saying, michael casey writes rubbish.

So today as I looked out the window I see 2 of our neighbours putting a plastic table in the boot of their car, outside the house where the other neighbour just died. Two separate events but to a writer, one can lead to another. Table and a death. When one of our lodgers died he left behind a brand new pair of shoes, so dad gave them to Billy one of his co-workers at the steelworks, this would be 30 years ago. Only the next day Billy told dad that the dead man had chased him around the table. That’s why you never put shoes on a table I suppose.

So just by looking out the window I was influenced by what I saw, and what I chose to write about. It unlocked a memory and as you know I have many many memories. Memory makes us. That’s why when you lose a memory you are losing part of your personal history, and that’s why any illness or disease that destroys Memory is a bad thing. And so is substance abuse of any kind, because it is taking away part of us and our dignity. And that’s why some things have so many memories attached to them, its not the thing, its the memory attached to the thing. That old chair belonged to granny and she used to sit in it and tell you stories. Or that sledge was the Rosebud sledge in Citizen Kane.

Life is full of influences, sex, drugs and rock and roll could be one path, one influence. Or percentages and mansions another path if you are the manager. The thing in life is to be free to feel all the influences, but then wise enough to chose the right one. Do you give in to the lust, or wait for the right guy, though if you are lucky it’s the same guy. Sometimes the choice is not yours at all. You just stumble along, and as Mark Harris once said to me, You are a good stumbler.

My brother said try computers, and I applied for one job, scrawling a note of application on half a piece of paper as I wrote on the old barn chair, the one I still have upstairs in my rubbish room. That was 40 years ago and I became a Computer Operator on DEC PDP 1170s, so by being influenced by my brother my choice led to a job that lasted 21 years. I stumbled into it. The dog peed on the garden gate and the dog’s pee led to me buying this house years later.

I never even thought of being a writer, I just loved words and listening to Politics with my dad. So once I had the house I wondered what next, so words chose me. I have an old shoe box behind the piano with my first efforts written in pencil behind me. I might dig it out and release those old stories, once I type them in. They are 30 years old and more now.

I can remember one story called Darth The Once Mighty, I may dig that one out. We used to have a bag of pennies to feed the coffee machine, so that ended up in the story, but with mystical powers, as did the coloured read write rings from computer tapes. Things influence stories that way, they become ingredients in a story. I only know if you all like today’s story, number 1600+ or whatever after I see the viewing figures. I may think you’ll like this one but you don’t. Or I may wonder why you love this story. Shakespeare is big in Poland it would seem, but I only found out after I saw the viewing figures and googled.

I hope my choice of words and stories influences you all for the good. Though Lech, Boris and Gregorgi say they are off to the pub, that is how I’ve influenced them today. Their choice is which pub, and once there they will definitely be under the influence, not of my words but 7 pints of Stella Artois each. If I’m lucky they’ll bring me back some Walkers cheese and onion crisps.    

Embarrassing Moments

Embarrassing Moments ©

By

Michael Casey

I’ve just had an embarrassing moment, we just looked at a house, and we will put an offer in, but who else turned up to look, only the people who looked at my own house on Saturday. This morning they were less than complimentary to the agent about my house. I just carried on regardless, it’s their loss. So just now we were both rivals for today’s house. And it turned out they did not like another house that we had viewed recently either, though that one IS spectacularly over priced. But it’s always nice watching people’s faces.

I’m continuing this piece after a night in hospital, lots of stabbing pains in my left shoulder, but it wasn’t my heart. Instead I will be visiting the arthritis clinic soon, which I’ve discovered is in the Maternity block. Though the delay in writing this has given me more material to think about. Just how do nurses and doctors put up with people just dropping their clothes and displaying their body?

Normally its a few weeks at least before people are relaxed enough to reveal their treasure. And then you are mightily disappointed or excited. The chase and the flirting are more fun, the big or little reveal can be most disappointing. So always bring sandwiches to eat later, or instead of. The body will fade, so good sandwiches, and conversation is the saviour of any situation. Beauty and lust will fade, but conversation and sandwiches will last forever.

There are many embarrassing situations in life, meeting me will probably be the most embarrassing, depending if I think you deserve the full surreal works, with egg and bacon and a mug of coffee on the side. The egg and bacon and a mug of coffee on the side could be a metaphor, depends on your imagination, if you are blushing with embarrassment right now then kindly leave the page. Fr. Michael is holding confessions on page 97, so go there and come back cleansed.

You can be deliberately embarrassed, your friends come and fart loudly in front of your new boyfriend. They say they were trying to save you from embarrassment by embarrassing you. Then the new boyfriend slags off your best friends. He is just a fart, slagging off your friends, you know them from Primary school, he just met you at the bus stop. So you dump him.

The next day you meet another boy, but at a different bus stop. He’s a rugby player, big and strong, he carried your rucksack, he’s a gentleman. So when your friends come along and start farting in front of him he just stands up and reveals his big bum and farts back. Then he sits down and carries on taking to you about nuclear thermo dynamics, he’s in your class but you never noticed him till you met him at the bus stop.

Your friends don’t know what to say, though they would like to see more of him, they are Art students after all. The Rugby man,and he is definitely a man , your 4 girlfriends have seen his bum after all. They blush and run away. The rugby man explains he knows the boy who slagged off your friends, so you hope you’ll forgive him. What is a girl supposed to do? So you start attending all the Varsity rugby matches.

Which reminds me I was in the crowd when we had the Twickenham streaker, the quick thinking Policeman used his helmet to hide the male streaker’s bits, to save everybody’s embarrassment. I don’t know what he did with his helmet afterwards, perhaps he had it dry cleaned.

Aside from nakedness words can bring the most embarrassment. When you are caught out slagging somebody off, you turn around and they are standing there, right behind you. What do you say? 25years ago maybe I said X was shallow and vacuous.Like a reed forever being blown over, no backbone etc. So there I was in the pub, it really was an extension of the office, we did do market research into alcohol sales after all, yes really. So X came up behind mean and confronted me, did I really say all that. So I just said YES, do you want a pint then? He said YES, and that was the end of the conversation, oh I did say don’t spill your pint.

So am I shameless, heartless or just honest. Never be embarrassed by honesty.

Points of View

Points of View ©

By

Michael Casey

I was thinking about what to talk about today, there is so much sadness and badness in the world it can really overwhelm you. I looked outside and my view of the street was blocked by transit vans, so that gave me an idea. Points of View. My daily view is here overlooking the street, so as people pass I look up from my computer and watch them pass by. That is my physical view, but as people pass I can hear their points of view as they pass by.

A point of view is a good thing, because it informs your choices. I won’t buy this item or that item as it’s made in a sweat shop. So by having a point of view you have an economic power over the maker of whatever it is. Your choice , your point of view puts money in people’s pockets or takes money away from them. So you can make or break a company, people power if you like. Though personally if the coffee was bad I would not buy it, I am practical after all.

A point of view can restrict you too. You always look West so you are ignorant of the East, either politically or you always go down 7^th and 5^th so you never discover any other part of the town. So a point of view can just be a continuing point of ignorance. You have to try other options on the menu or you will never expand your palette.

The same goes for people and prejudice. I could never date a White bloke, or a Japanese girl, or a tall man, or a fat girl, or a ginger. And on it goes. In my own family we have connections with 4 different nationalities, so you can see from my point of view petty prejudice is just that. It is petty and ignorant. We have always done it that way so we won’t do it another way. I’ll never trust a Pole or an Albanian you may say. But when they come to your home and work their ass off and do a great job for a reasonable price your point of view changes. Then you recommend Poles and Albanians as brothers, because experience trumped prejudice.

A point of view is better that nothing, but it should be updated and you should filter in more experience often. In the end your point of view may not change an inch, but at least you have the benefit of knowledge. Politicians pretend to listen, but getting re-elected is their only point of view. Remember you have the Power, any power given to them is from the people. So if the Politician does not do what should be done, pick your own cause, then kick them out. Politicians are 10 a penny, they are not gods. Power is given from God.    

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC 

Let There Be Light ©

By Michael Casey

Let my tears be my words

Let the candle light be my eyes

Let the flowers in bloom be my lips

Let their scent be my blood

Let the wind be my breath

Let clouds be my mood

Let children's laughter be my hope

Let widows' sighs be my conscience

Let a stranger's prayers be my delight

Let the bees be my wisdom

Let the trees be my strength

Let my patience reach to the stars

Let me be always remembered in your prayers

Small Thoughts

Small Thoughts from Birmingham.

Well it was ironic that after writing that piece about pain I was later in so much pain I thought it wise to go to hospital.

Now today I am kind of jet lagged as I was awake for 28hours till I got  home.

At least the stabbing pain to my left shoulder has gone. Only for a different kind of pain to appear elsewhere. But I will get an appointment with an Orthopedic specialist, so I can talk to them about it. Though my mother had arthritis and my dad the heart trouble, so I've inherit both from them. Close families are good, if  only you don't inherit the diseases.

I'm glad that when I put a substitute story on the page you all seem to like it wherever you are in the world. It's like having Pele on the bench to come on and dribble my words all over the page while I have a rest.

I have 1600 individual stories including repeats to draw upon. And I can and 7 more new stories a week.

It's too late to write another new story today but come back in the next 24hours and I'll be rested enough to produce more.

Though did I tell you who I saw in the Charity Shop today? It was the Queen,she had the Corgis with her for protection, she buys all those hats she wears at my local charity shop, we have 13 charity shops to choose from. My daughters do a bit of volunteering in them. I did tell them to invite the Queen home for tea and biscuits. She could also use our toilet before the drive back to London.

Billy Graham died tonight, so good luck to him as he has the entry interview to Heaven. He has to get up even earlier to milk those cows as they do like their tea in Heaven, coffee is not allowed. I'm sure he'll be great at getting the teas made for all the Angels each and every morning  in Paradise. You see you greatest talent is used the most once you get to Heaven.

So what would I be doing in Heaven, assuming they let me in. I have cleaned toilets professionally when I worked at CPNEC Birmingham, I did do 10 different roles regularly. I carried far too much paper in my computer room days. No need of paper in Heaven, telepathy would be used. So what could I do? I can write stories and tell stories. But what if AI was in Heaven, I would not stand a chance.

I'd have to resort to Prayer, Dear God help me, I don't know what I can do to be of service to you. Then Billy Graham would come along and get me to help with the milking. My family back in Kerry Ireland were farmers after all. I even have a cousin who still farms the Casey farm in Carker Scarthaglen. So Maybe with the Help of God and two Policemen as my mother used to say I'd be allowed to milk cows for the Angels' tea in Heaven. I'm sure Billy Graham would show me the ropes.

Speaking of ropes, I could be the bell ringer in Heaven, though I heard only tears and prayers moved the bell, no ropes required. So I'm wondering what all of you my readers  in 26+ different countries think I could do in my future Heavenly future.


I'm sure Lech and Boris and Gregorgi have plenty of ideas about what a writer  such as I could do in Heaven. Though they might just say try being a better writer on earth, before I even think of Heaven. So maybe I'll do that and in the morning The Best Has Yet to Come, failing that you'll have to put up with my usual rubbish, or God might just hit me with a thunderbolt, and tell me to go to Hell.

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi  and laughing their socks of now, I think God sent me this Trio of friends as a punishment..