Humour Writing by the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC
From the Guardian, a great Reporter
The BBC’s Steve Rosenberg: ‘The increasing aggression in Russia worries me – it could get bumpy’
The broadcaster’s Russia editor on Putin’s attitude to the BBC, the future of the war in Ukraine, and playing the piano with Mikhail Gorbachev
Sun 12 Feb 2023 09.30 GMT
Steve Rosenberg, the BBC’s Russia editor, grew up in Chingford in east London. After studying Russian at Leeds University he moved to Moscow, where he taught English. He worked for CBS News as a translator, producer and reporter on the war in Chechnya before joining the BBC in 2003, initially as its Moscow correspondent. He’s a talented pianist and regularly posts musical updates on Twitter.
Has reporting from Russia become more difficult since the invasion of Ukraine last February?
Reporting has become more difficult. Getting access to officials has become more difficult, persuading the Russian people to speak to us has become more difficult. Although, despite the anti-western propaganda and anti-British rhetoric in the state media, out on the street Russians still stop and speak to me. Many are wary of expressing a public opinion about the war and about Putin but still, many people do talk to us.
What is the reputation of the BBC in Russia?
The Russian authorities portray the BBC as a British government mouthpiece, which is absolutely not the case. And very often the BBC is criticised in the state media. But on the other hand, last year I was still able to secure an interview with the Russian foreign minister, Sergei Lavrov. And we’ve been able to ask questions to the director of Russian foreign intelligence, Sergei Naryshkin. I would like to think it’s because there is some kind of respect for us.
In a few musical minutes, I learned more about Gorbachev than in six interviews
Have you been able to get a sense of what level of support there is for the war?
We’ve been able to travel across the country and I’ve come to the conclusion from talking to people that public opinion roughly splits into three groups. There’s a small minority which is very publicly and vocally behind the war and Putin; a small minority which is completely against it, totally shocked by what’s happening. And in the middle, the majority, composed of people who are utterly confused by what’s happening, partly because of the stream of propaganda in the state media. They are very anxious about the situation.
Have the sanctions had any tangible effect on day-to-day life?
If you go to a supermarket in Moscow, the shelves are pretty full. The selection perhaps isn’t as large as it was a year ago, and a lot of western products that used to be there have disappeared, like Coca-Cola, replaced by new local brands. Imported goods are becoming much more expensive. But for the majority of Russians across the country, they don’t see a huge effect from sanctions. Now that may change this year. I think the economy is going to come under increasing pressure.
Do Russians worry about how their government looks to international eyes?
Perhaps in the big cities they do. But for the majority, their priority is not to think of their government’s reputation. Their priority is to get through life, the day-to-day struggle. Real incomes have been falling. Life is tough.
Has the war affected your own feelings for Russia?
This is a country that has intrigued and inspired me for years. I fell in love with the language, I fell in love with the people. For the last year, it’s been a country that has shocked and horrified me, and it’s tested my love and my respect to their limits. It’s an alternative reality, it’s Nineteen Eighty-Four and Through the Looking-Glass all mixed up. It’s almost as if a huge black cloud has come over the country and everything has gone dark. The whole country has been put on a war footing. It’s a militarised Russia, a more patriotic and more nationalistic place that affects all walks of life.
In 2018, you asked Putin about the attempted assassination of Sergei and Yulia Skripal. Were you nervous? And was there any comeback?
I was nervous, because I didn’t know what the consequences would be. He hadn’t spoken publicly up to that point about the Salisbury poisonings, and he didn’t expect that question. But there wasn’t any follow-up, which was quite interesting.
How do you see things going from here?
Even though everything has gone pretty badly for him, I think Putin comes across as someone who still believes that he holds strong cards, and that he will secure something that he can portray as a victory to the elite and to the people. He may be wrong about that. But I think he believes that western support for Ukraine will weaken, and that Russia is in this for the long term. What worries me is the increasing aggression in Russian society. There are a lot of groups with a lot of guns – the Wagner military organisation, the Chechen leader Kadyrov with his paramilitaries, and regional militias. There are also a lot of traumatised people. I think this year could get quite bumpy.
What was it like accompanying Mikhail Gorbachev on piano?
That was one of the most bizarre episodes of my career. We’d recorded an interview which hadn’t produced many news lines. But there was a piano in the corner of his office and he suddenly asked if anyone could play, and I sat down and played and he started singing. In those few musical minutes, I learned more about Gorbachev the man than in all the six interviews that I’d done with him. He was a very emotional, very warm person. And his death last year felt like the end of an era. He represented that rare moment in Russian history when the country opened up.
Can you explain your love of Eurovision?
It was one of the few programmes that I was allowed to stay up late to watch when I was a kid. I was mad about TV and I just thought it was amazing that you had all these different languages and crackly phone lines. I started to collect Eurovision songs the way other people collect stamps or coins, and I started playing them on the piano. Most years we do this Eurovision Piano Request live programme where people send in their requests, and I play them on the piano. I love that, because it’s the one day of the year where I can kind of switch off from politics and Putin and the Kremlin and just have a bit of Eurovision musical fun.
Fat Dave and The DJ
Sunday, 1 April 2018 first appeared
Fat Dave and The DJ
Fat Dave and the DJ
By
Michael Casey
Dave was fat and old, and needed a wash, he had the needs a wash smell about him. But he lived alone since his wife had died when she was hit by a supermarket trolley in the large car park of the local supermarket. The trolley had not been parked right and had had a nudge and went crashing down hill over all the pot holes and killed her. Lemony Snicket could not have written it any better, but it was the reality, death by supermarket trolley. But at least they paid for the funeral and did offer a free shopping voucher for life, to compensate for her death.
Dave turned down the offer, shopping as a remembrance of his wife’s death would not have been the same. Though the store really did have such great offers. So Dave these past 20 years got fatter and fatter as he found solace in fast food and take aways, while he listened to all the music they used to enjoy together. Can I Touch You there by Michael Bolton used to be their foreplay song, now he just ate chips and dipped them in loads of tomato ketchup. He did get a payout but not the supermarket voucher one first offered.
Barry White’s You’re my First MY Last My Everything was another romantic piece they listened to as they tested the springs on their marriage bed. Now pizza boxes lay scattered about the house. His one and only one was not there any more, his hot water bottle was not there any more. You are the Sunshine of my Life, was not there any more. Oh Jean he proclaimed was not there for him, as the tears for all his fears and his love of all those years was gone, gone, gone.
He had too many Miss you Nights now, since he did not have her, he had been a man and he had really loved his woman, but now she was gone, not even leaving a watermark. Just a dent in an old supermarket trolley where it had hit her head. He had only had eyes for her, and she had left him crying in his sleep. All that she wanted was him, and now she had lfet him high and dry, with just the tears of a clown to comfort him. Has just about staying alive but he had night fevers.
So on and on and on, he played the music that was in him, he let the music take over. If he didn’t he be under attack, from demons. He was searching for a hero to help him to save him from being under attack from demons. He went through their shared record collection, backwards and forwards, looking for an inner vision. But the music was too much, he thought he’d have to throw it all away. He decided to gather up all the CDs and take them to the charity shop.
On the way to the charity shop, a new saviour entered his life. For as fat Dave struggled with wicker basket on wheels which contained all his cds he met a DJ. The DJ really did save his life. For Miles the DJ helped him move the wicker basket to the charity shop. In fact Miles took over and they chatted on the way. Miles knew all about music and therapy. Miles had broken up with his boyfriend at the exact same time fat Dave had lost his beloved fat bottomed wife. Miles boyfriend had betrayed him in the most vile of ways. He had ran off with a straight haired woman, not even nice locks but a straight haired women with bad makeup had stolen the love of Miles’ life away.
So they consoled each other. Then Miles had an idea, he’s give fat Dave his Samsung S9+ 128gig Phone in exchange for trolley load of CDs. Fat Dave would have 10 times more music and a phone he could use, not that he’d ever use all the fancy photo stuff. Fat Dave struggled for a few minutes, but a bargain was a bargain, and maybe with new music his heart might heal. Miles also gave him his BOSE headphones, he’s had them 6 months and besides Miles always changed his headphones every six months.
So with a wave and a smile fat Dave pottered off while Miles rung for a taxi on his backup Apple phone, he was a DJ after all. Now when Miles got to the club that night he decided to use an old CD player, and he announced that tonight he would only play the basket. Then closing his eyes he picked out one of fat Dave’s Cds and played a few tracks. It was Boston’s Don’t Look Back, followed by It’s Easy and then A man I’ll Never Be. Quickly followed by Tina Turner’s Steamy Windows, then Simply the Best. I’ve tried everything came next, followed by I want it all, and then Lifted.
On and on the night went on. A disit a basket, I pull one from the basket shouted Miles the DJ over the frenzy. Whatever love Dave had had for his wife was in that basket and it was splattered all over the dance floor. Love is Stranger, Sisters are doing it for themselves, Miracle of Love with Sex Crime to follow. On and on went the music. Dancing Queen came next, pandemonium on the dance floor. The Music Basket was an utter utter success. The owner of the club immediately gave Miles a 3 year contact.
As for Dave he discovered Spotify and all the other music that was on the 128 gig on the phone. Miles rung him and said would it be ok if he came by the next day. Miles arrived with several women in tow. They all wanted to meet the inspiration. They were a little surprised to see fat Dave and his untidy house, but once they started to talk music they were totally smitten. The women were Lesbians who loved to dance when they were not running several house and office cleaning companies. So as they talked music with fat Dave they cleaned and polished. Two hours of dancing later the was immaculate. And Dave was gently glowing.
Obviously they all became firm friends. So fat Dave has a succession of very pretty girls coming to his house to talk and dance to music while they cleaned. Miles went from strength to strength with his what’s in the basket routine. Fat Dave’s neighbours were jealous and one old lady called the Police and said he was living off immoral earnings. Some people are evil that way.
A Police Inspector arrived, but he understood, in fact he was gay and knew all about Miles and his basket and how it had all happened as Miles had met fat Dave on the way to the Charity shop. So the Lesbian cleaning company owners added the Police Inspector’s house to their list of contracts. In actual fact they ended up cleaning Police headquarters too, its an ill wind that blows no good after all.
Miles was livid when he heard the story and that’s how he met the Police Inspector, as they say an Inspector Calls, so Miles and Trevor became a couple, I won’t make any comments about handcuffs either. Dave was happy with his new Lesbian cleaner friends but what with all the cleaning he lost a lot of weight. So fat Dave was introduced to a North Korean Cheerleader girl, who wasn’t a Lesbian. And they married and had 7 children each more beautiful than they next.
Obviously Miles did the music and Trevor sorted the parking out, there were 1000 guests after all. And instead of gifts there was an empty wicker basket, and cash was put in it. Dave with not want the money nor did his North Korean Cheerleader Bride. Instead all the money was donated to the local children’s charity.
God works in mysterious ways, Dave made new friends for life after he’s lost his wife. Then through his cleaners he met a new wife. Miles had a life long arresting experience too. So look to the stars everybody.
from the Daily Mail
Thin-skinned 5ft 7in Putin has secret team dedicated to protecting him from memes portraying him as a dwarf, Hitler or a crab
- Thousands of documents were obtained from media watchdog Roskomnadzor
- It found spooks work tirelessly to crack down on online dissent against Putin
By CHRIS JEWERS FOR MAILONLINE
PUBLISHED: 13:31, 10 February 2023 | UPDATED: 13:40, 10 February 2023
Russia’s federal media watchdog tasks its spooks with protecting Vladimir Putin from memes that portray him as a ‘bald dwarf’, ‘a crab’, or ‘a Hitler wannabe’.
That is according to reports on a leak out of Roskomnadzor, the main agency behind online censorship in Moscow that is responsible for blocking material about the on-going invasion of Ukraine and any disparaging posts about the Russian president.
Analysis of the leaks found that the agency compiles reports on all ‘negative publications’, and sends them ‘upstairs’ to the Kremlin and Russia’s security services to brief them on all of the despot’s critics via an internal messaging system.
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Putin’s online image is monitored at almost all times, according to independent Russian outlets that have delved into the leaks. Roskomnadzor employs thousands of people, many of whom are expected to work over the weekend or holidays.
In particular, it is understood that they are on the look out for anything that questions Putin’s macho image, his health, or his mental acumen.
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Russia’s federal media watchdog tasks its spooks with protecting Vladimir Putin from memes that portray him as a ‘bald dwarf’, ‘a crab’, or ‘a Hitler wannabe’. Pictured: A photoshopped image showing a shrunken-down Putin meeting officials in Russia
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One meme format that is keeping Roskomnadzor busy, the leaked documents suggest, is that of calling Putin a crab. His face is often superimposed over the body of a crab, or text on an image declares: ‘Putin is a crab.’ This is reference to when Putin once said he worked ‘like a slave’ as president from 2000 to 2008. The words ‘slave’ and ‘crab’ sound similar in Russian
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Thousands of pages of documents about the agency were leaked by a group of Belarusian hackers, who said in late 2022 that they had been able to breach an internal Roskomnadzor network and copy a vast collection of internal data.
This data was then handed to independent Russian journalists, as well as German newspaper Süddeutsche Zeitung and other western news organisation, who have released their findings this week.
According to iStories – an independent Russian news site – Roskomnadzor staffers sign on at 8.30am every morning to scour the internet for any activity that could pose a threat to Putin and his image – including memes.
One meme format that is keeping Roskomnadzor workers busy, the leaked documents suggest, is one which calls Putin a crab. His face is often superimposed over the body of a crab, or text on an image declares: ‘Putin is a crab.’
This is reference to when Putin once said he worked ‘like a slave’ as president from 2000 to 2008. The words ‘slave’ and ‘crab’ sound similar in Russian, which led to the appearance of the internet nickname for the Russian leader.
Other banned memes include those that liken Putin to Nazi dictator Adolf Hitler (and call him ‘Putler’), and those that call him a ‘bald dwarf’ (Putin is 5ft 7in, and is widely believed to use platforms in his shoes to make him appear taller).
A Google search of ‘dwarf Putin’ will return several photoshopped images of a shrunken Russian despot as he meets with officials.
Roskomnadzor’s workers are also tasked with tracking down content that compares Putin to negative figures (other than Hitler) such as pedophiles and serial killers, as well as depictions of him in pornographic scenes or as a ‘homosexual’.
Russia has previously banned depictions of Putin as a ‘gay clown’ (a cartoon of Putin in makeup imposed onto a rainbow, which was popularised by activists in response to Russia’s homophobic policies). The image is considered ‘extremism’ in Russia.
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Memes – such as those that liken Putin to Nazi dictator Adolf Hitler (and call him ‘Putler’), and those that call him a ‘bald dwarf’ (Putin is 5ft 7in, and is widely believed to use platforms in his shoes to make him appear taller) – are reported to officials in the Kremlin by Roskomnadzor
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Putin is 5ft 7in, and is widely believed to use platforms in his shoes to make him appear taller. This picture, which is not photoshopped, shows him about to shake hands with former US president Donald Trump, who along with other world leaders is standing on a raised platform. Russian news agency TASS reportedly removed this image from their coverage in 2018
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Images likening Putin to unfavourable characters, such as Nazi dictator Adolf Hitler (pictured) are also reported by Moscow’s censorship agency Roskomnadzor
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The spooks are also working to crack down on suggestions that Putin’s health is in a ‘critical condition’. In one report detailing Roskomnadzor’s efforts to halt the ‘destabilisation of Russian society,’ staffers gave a few examples of their findings.
‘Putin 100% has dementia! The old man has lost his mind!’ and ‘Will a sane Russian support a president with mental illnesses?’ were listed in the report that was sent to the higher-ups in the Kremlin.
Censors also quoted messages from Telegram channels. ‘Putin has cancer […], but he will live,’ another example listed in a report said.
In order to track down criticism of Putin online, iStories said Roskomnadzor agents use Brand Analytics – software that monitors media and social media.
They also manually enter search times, such as ‘bald dwarf’, ‘puilo’, ‘PutinVor’, ‘Little Tsakhes’, ‘chief corrupt official’, ‘Putler’ and ‘Pynya’, the outlet says.
Analysis of the leaks by iStories shows that Putin was most criticised online towards the end of September, in connection to his partial mobilisation for the invasion of Ukraine in which he called upon another 300,000 soldiers to fight in his war.
There were also spikes in criticism around his 70th birthday and when an explosion hit the Crimean bridge, the bridge linking the peninsula to Russia.
Reports about Putin’s health peaked in June 2022.
The outlet also reports that Roskomnadzor monitors western media outlets, such as CNN, Fox News and the Financial Times, as well as anonymous Telegram channels critical of the Putin regime, such as General SVR.
The channel has long claimed Putin is dying, and on one occasion claimed that that Russian President fell down the stairs and soiled himself.
The leaks also suggest that Russia’s top search engine and Google alternative Yandex was filtering out unflattering search results about Putin and the Kremlin.
A spokesperson for the company told independent Russian news outlet Meduza that the engine does not remove results on its own, denying the accusation.
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Russia has previously banned depictions of Putin as a ‘gay clown’ (a cartoon of Putin in makeup imposed onto a rainbow, which was popularised by activists in response to Russia’s homophobic policies). The image is considered ‘extremism’ by Russian authorities
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The cartoonist behind these puppets from 2000, depicting Putin as a poison dwarf in Russia’s version of ‘Spitting Images’ fled the country in fear of his safety towards the end of 2022
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Roskomnadzor agents are also tasked with cracking down on memes critical of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. Pictured: A meme making it clear that despite Putin’s claim that it is part of Russian territory, Ukraine is ‘not Russia’
Speaking to iStories, Abbas Gallyamov – a former speechwriter for Putin – said the goal of monitoring activity online was to ‘quash unrest’.
‘If you are hated by your own people, then at some point the security forces will simply get rid of you, you will be unnecessary to them,’ he said.
‘Popularity is of great importance for the leader [of the country], including for Putin. Any regime can be sustainable only if it relies on the support of a significant group of voters,’ Gallyamov continued.
As a leader, ‘you see an information threat, and you make a decision how to stop it, how to deal with it. Either with the help of technological tools, creating an alternative agenda, or with the help of an administrative scenario,’ he added.
Since the outbreak of the war, Roskomnadzor has also been cracking down on any instances of dissent against the invasion. Those who protest the war in public face up to 15 years in prison.
iStories said since Putin ordered his forces into Ukraine, the war has been the main target of criticism in relation to the Russian leader.
Agents search for mentions of ‘unleashing a war’, ‘illegally invading’ and sending Russian soldiers to their deaths.
To this day, Putin and Kremlin officials still call the invasion a ‘special military operation,’ and avoid using the term ‘war’ when speaking to the Russian public.
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Vladimir Putin has secret team to protect him from ‘crab’ and ‘Hitler’ memes
Tears for a Butcher
jul99
The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker book2 ©
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Tears For a Butcher ©
by
Michael Casey
Chapter One …Mrs Murphy to the Rescue
ÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿ
The next day found the street nursing a collective hangover , Mrs
Murphy being the sole sober person . It was her soul and that of her
infant grandchild which concerned her , so as usual she had got up and
said her three rosaries before going to early Mass . In the afternoon
little Shiela was to be Christened so Mrs Murphy at least was getting in
the right frame of mind . Mrs Murphy did stop to light a candle in front
of Saint Anthony as thanks for help in finding Jaswinda , after all wasn’t
he the saint in charge of lost things and you might call Jaswinda’s
kidnapping a form of being lost , lost from her parents and friends that
is . Fr Shaw had privately offered the Mass up in thanks for Jaswinda’s
safe return , even he had felt humbled by Mrs Murphy’s faith in God . He
had noticed the lit candle by Saint Anthony’s statue and the nod and smile
Mrs Murphy had given to a poster of Mother Theresa of Calcutta . So united
in prayer the Mass was celebrated .
When the Mass was over and Fr. Shaw had taken the vestments off
he walked down the side isle and sat on the bench in front of Mrs Murphy ,
leaning back he spoke to her .
“Well that was quite a night . I didn’t have as much fun since the last
ordination I was at ” , he said with a smile .
“It was grand , I’ll agree with you there , BUT you do know that the food
we were “ateing” was for Shiela’s Christening do ” , replied Mrs Murphy as
she heaved her bussom indignantly .
“You don’t begrudge Jaswinda and her family that do you ?” asked Fr. Shaw
trying not to smile .
“I do not , I enjoyed myself too ! It’s just that Patrick doesn’t seem to
do anything in the right order . I mean he fathered a child before he got
married , now he eats the food before the Christening ” , sighed Mrs
Murphy .
“You don’t mind being a grannie , I mean some women feel that they’ve got
one foot in the grave now that they are grandmothers ” , said Fr. Shaw
teasingly .
“I do NOT , now that’s the best thing Patrick ever did , and June is such
a nice girl . It was almost the will of God them meeting , fancy it being
her father who lent us that money all them years ago . Now we are one
happy family , APART from that mother of hers . I just hope I’m spared
long enough to see all my grandchildren grow up , I wouldn’t want the
“English Grandmother” to influence them too much ” , she rolled her eyes
at the thought .
Fr Shaw smiled broadly and tossed his head back , stiffling his
laughter out of respect . Mrs Murphy smiled too , noticing for the first
time the small piece of paper stuck to Fr. Shaw’s neck, she’d have a laugh
at him too as well as herself .
“Is the work getting too much for you Father , not trying to cut your
throat are you ” pulling the piece of paper from his throat and holding it
in front of him .
“Get away out of that , besides the Samaritans are ex directory around
here” he replied .
“Well I’d better go home for some breakfast , I’ll see you this afternoon
with the “Pagan Grandparents” for the Christening ” said Mrs Murphy as she
gathered herself and her handbag up .
“You could always try converting them ,I mean their daughter is Catholic
now ” , said a deadpan Fr.Shaw .
“And how do I go about that ” said Mrs Murphy as she put her gloves on .
“Well we don’t have a statue like we have one of St.Anthony nor a poster
like the one of Mother Theresa ” , Fr.Shaw paused, he could see Mrs Murphy
blush , she was embarrassed by her shows of faith .
“Don’t you dare tell anybody ” whispered Mrs Murphy as she fidgeted with
her bag .
“Anyway ” said Fr.Shaw diplomatically ” haven’t you heard of St. Jude ,
she likes a challenge , perhaps the “Pagan Grandparents” would be right up
her street ” a smile on his lips .
“St.Jude would be ringing the Samaritans then ” was Mrs Murphy’s reply as
she nodded towards the altar and headed down the isle and out of the
church .
“Lord grant me faith ” , said Fr.Shaw . Then he smiled, he knew the saints
would soon be bombarded with conversion prayers .
In the afternoon Mrs Murphy , Patrick and June and baby Shiela
arrived for the christening . The “English Grandparents” were there
too , that’s to say June’s parents Mr and Mrs Kemp . Mrs Kemp was dressed
to the nines , with a big hat on her head and matching long gloves .Big
Sid , Mark and Gillian , Percy and Sgt Mulholland and Mathew were also
there , along with Amjit , Balbinda and Jaswinder of course .
“The Lord Save Us , if it isn’t The Duchess of York Herself” whispered
Mrs Murphy as she walked up the side isle to the baptismal font . June had
to look down at the baby and pretend to wipe its nose to save collapsing
into giggles . Patrick just bit his lip , the pain would stop him
laughing.
“I’ll just go and say hello to “Annette” ” , said Mrs Murphy before
striding over towards Mrs Kemp .
“She’s up to something ” , whispered Patrick .
“I know , but what ? ” answered June from behind her hand .
After a few moments they found out what . For Mrs Murphy returned all
smiles , giving a knowing wink to Patrick and June , well that’s how it
seemed but in fact the wink was for the baby Jesus in the Virgin Mary’s
arms .
“You know you were going to call the baby Shiela , then have Annette as
the middle name , after your mother over there ” said a surprizingly coy
Mrs Murphy .
“Yes , we decided that months ago ,” answered a suspicious June .
“Well “Annette” agrees with me it would be better if the middle name be
different , I mean Shiela Annette Murphy is a grand name , but the child
might think one grandmother is better than another , what with her name
coming second and that . Now we don’t want favouritism do we . So
“Annette” thought that you could save her name for the next granddaughter
, which won’t be long in coming , as you are such a loving couple after
all ” continued Mrs Murphy .
Patrick blushed at this point , June just twinkled , Mrs Murphy was a
terror to be sure , but it felt alright , well as far as June was
concerned . Mrs Kemp saw Patrick blush and whispered to her husband .
“I bet she’s talking about the next doxen grandchildren , and in a church
too . Well at least one will be called “Annette” , and NOT “Shiela
Annette” , she consoled herself with that thought .
“So what will the middle name be then ?” enquired a still red Patrick .
“Jude , of course , ” replied Mrs Murphy .
“Jude , of course , ” echoed June while pulling a face at Patrick .
“But she’s the patron saint of ” started Patrick .
“Hopeless causes , ” finished June , who had recently finished a book on
the lives of the saints .
“Well it nice to see you’re becoming a good Catholic , ” smiled Mrs
Murphy beaming with pride .
“Us converts can teach you old ones a thing or two , ” smiled June .
“But why Jude , mom ?” asked a puzzled Patrick .
“Well its a nice name , isn’t it ? ” she replied defensively before
walking towards Fr. Shaw who had emerged from the presbytery .
“What’s she up to ? ” said Patrick thinking aloud .
“Well you are a bit of a hopeless cause , or so my mother says ” jested
June .
Fr. Shaw smiled when he heard what Mrs Murphy had to say , looking over
towards Mr and Mrs Kemp .
“Did you see that ? Fr.Shaw looked at mom and smiled , and he said
something too . It looked like” started already” . “
“I didn’t know you were a lip reader . I’ll have to watch out when I swear
at you in future ” replied Patrick .
“Well only a bit , but what has she” started already” ? ” continued a
an intrigued June .
“We can ask her afterwards , ” was Patrick’s reply , as he could see
Fr.Shaw was coughing and opening his prayer book , a sure sign that Shiela
was about to be baptised .
So with family and friends looking on , Shiela Jude Murphy was
baptised , Sgt. Mulholland and Mathew being her Godparents . Mrs Kemp
rolled her eyes at the sight , to her it seemed like two “King Kongs”
standing over a small bundle , which was baby Shiela . Mrs Murphy would
later explain how only Catholics could be Godparents for Catholic babies .
Baby Shiela stayed asleep during the service , even when drenched , for
Fr. Shaw a baptism meant water and lots of it , no dabbing for him . Yet
the baby slept through it , June had taken a tip from Mrs Murphy , namely
a thimblefull of Irish Whisky in the baby’s milk half an hour before the
baptism .
Back at Mark’s cafe the baby’s health was toasted , Mark and
Gillian having stayed up late to remake the eaten buffet . Jaswinda was
looking at her future playmate , and trying to work out when little Shiela
would be bigger Shiela , or big enough to play at any rate . Outside Amjit
was pacing up and down the pavement in front of the cafe and barking , he
wanted to be let inside the cafe .
“What on earth’s that savage dog trying to do ? ” said an alarmed Mrs
Kemp.
“He’s only saying congradulations , that’s all , ” said a totally
unperturbed Mrs Murphy . Who then went to the counter to return with the
scraps .
“Jaswinder , do you want to feed little Amjit ? ” asked Mrs Murphy ,
holding the plate out so Jaswinder could reach .
“Yes , please , ” Jaswinder replied then with a hop and a skip , her one
pigtail bobbing she dashed out to feed Amjit .
“Is it safe , he might harm her ! ” said an alarmed Mrs Kemp .
“I don’t think so ,” said a smiling Mrs Murphy .
After an hour of festivities , the people began to disperse ,
Mrs Kemp was about to leave herself , when she leaned over conspiratorily
and with a glance at Patrick whispered to Mrs Murphy .
“Shiela , it’s Patrick’s birthday next month and I was thinking of getting
him a nice watch , as I noticed his old one is a bit worn out . “
“More like , knackered , I’m forever telling him to take it off when he’s
humping big loads of flour and the like , but will he listen to me ? “
,replied Mrs Murphy shaking her head .
“Quite , but he’s changed since he’s married MY June , so if I was to
buy him a nice watch then perhaps he’ll take care of it ? ” said Mrs Kemp
trying not to sound condescending , but failing as usual .
“Oh , to be sure , he’s a real man , now that he’s married to YOUR June ,
but then isn’t he the image of his father , MY dead husband in heaven
who’s no doubt having a drink with the angels to celebrate his first
grandchild’s baptism into THE CHURCH . ” , smiled back Mrs Murphy as if
butter would not melt in her mouth , while glancing over with pride at her
own earthly holy family , namely her Patrick and June and baby Shiela .
“Well , you do agree with me he needs a new watch , I mean we don’t want
to end up buying him the same thing do we ?” , said Mrs Kemo , flashing
her best smile .
“Yes , you are quite right “Annette” , and can you tell me where you got
those luvly false teeth from ? They are grand altogether , or did you just
soak them for a week in Domestos ? ” , replied Mrs Murphy the butter still
not melting in her mouth .
Mr Kemp came to the rescue , and ushered his wife out of the cafe , giving
a wink to Mrs Murphy , behind his wife’s back of course , he had a sense
of humour after all , but he was not totally stupid though .
“I just hope she gets him a stretch strap , otherwise he won’t wear the
thing . Mind you the watch he’s got now isn’t too bad , he’s superglued
the glass back in , it could last a while longer . ” mumbled Mrs Murphy as
she watched the Pagan Grandparents go .
“What’s this about a stretch strap ? ” asked June as she placed baby
Shiela in grandma Shiela’s arms .
“Annette ,wants to buy your husband a watch for his birthday next month .”
“He could do with one , he told me those Russian one’s seem to last him
the longest , the sweat gets in the others he’s tried over the years .
Besides the one he’s got now has a horrid picure in green of a man playing
a lute , the man looks as if he’s just came out of a concentration camp !”
“I’ve seen that , it could frighten little Shiela here when she gets
older” , said Mrs Murphy as she stroked the baby’s nose .
“I just hope mom gets a stretch strap , he hates the others they dig into
your skin when you work , he likes wind up ones too , he said he’d not
have got his present one if he’d realised it was a battery one . “
“I’m sure she’ll get a nice one , I mean now there’s a real man in your
family , besides she probably fancies him on the quite . ” said Mrs Murphy
as she played with the baby in her arms .
“You’re an absolute terror , you are ! ” laughed June .
“It might be true , I was reading it in the Readers Digest at the surgery
when I was at Dr. Quaringa’s for my blood pressure tablets . It said that
some mothers – in – laws have a fixation for there son in laws . “
“Well I’ll have to get my figure back quick , and then start to seduce him
again !” laughed June .
“You’ll soon have a brother for Shiela if you do that , but at least with
two children to look after , then Patrick would be too busy to notice your
mother’s overtures . ” retorted a deadpan Mrs Murphy before looking up at
June and throwing back her head to cackle like a hen .
Patrick came over to see what was up . The two women in his life just
looked at him and resumed their laughter with fresh vigour . Then his
daughter joined in to .
“The sooner I have a son , the better , then at least I’ll not be
surrounded by mad women ” , said a slightly indignant Patrick .
June and Mrs Murphy just looked at each other again and laughed till they
cried . Patrick was bemused , so he repeated his statement . “The sooner I
have a son the better ! ” June wiped the tears from her eyes , before
kissing him . “I’ll only be too happy to oblige , if you can wait a few
weeks ” , she replied as she patted her still swollen stomach . Patrick
blushed as red as the bottles of ketchup on the tables , Mrs Murphy just
swelled with pride and whispered to the bundle in her arms ” Little
Timothy won’t be long in coming , a year at the most . “
Patrick was still blushing as June kissed him again . Mrs Murphy then got
up and handed the treasure back to June , before snatching a kiss from
Patrick and leaving the cafe , she had other matters to attend to …..
Mrs Murphy had walked to the end of the street when , she had to
stop and shake a pebble from her shoes , leaning on a wall as she did so .
When something cold and wet shoved itself into the back of her leg she was
naturally frighten for a second . Spinning around she saw what it was .
“God blast you , the Devil carry you , Amjit you hairy thing will you
leave me alone . ” She screatched at the innocent dog .
Amjit lowered his head , and offered his paw , so they could shake hands
and be friends again . It was then than Mrs Murphy noticed her umbrella ,
hadn’t she left it in the cafe and Amjit had brought it after her .
“Sorry , Amjit , but you did frighten me . Here shake hands . “
They shook hands , then with a woof , and what could easily by mistaken
for a smile Amjit was off his tail high and proud . He too had other
business to attend to , if only he could remember where he had buried that
pig’s head that Big Sid had given him , Amjit knew there was another meal
or two left in it , if only he could remember where he’d left it .
“Thank’s again , Amjit ” shouted Mrs Murphy after the hairy hound . Amjit
stopped to bark again , then with a burst of astonishing speed he was off
, he’d probably seen the Post Office cat and Amjit wanted to talk to that
moggie . It started to rain , and thanking Amjit with a “Bless Him” Mrs
Murphy opened her umbrella . She had hardly opened it when old Michael
pulled up in his taxi .
“Do you want a lift , I’ve earnt my diesel for the day . “
“Well could you take me to Weatherfield Rd ,the one by the Rover’s Return
past the old clothing factory ? “
“Hop in , but why are you going over that way ? “
“Me and Mrs Lynch are looking after Mrs Powulska , she’s still weak after
her operation , so we take it in turns to keep an eye on her . Her sister
is coming ower from Poland for a month , she will be here in a few days
so I’ve got to tidy the place up a bit . “
“I like the Poles they are a great lot , I was with a lot of them fellas
in the war , they are sometimes called the Irish of Central Europe , they
have suffered let me tell you . ” said Michael as he moved up the gears
and sped off .
“Yes they did suffer , first the Nazis , then the Communists , but they
led the way for Europe to be free , and after all isn’t the Pope himself a
Pole , so you cann’t beat that . ” said Mrs Murphy her voice showing her
passion .
As Mrs Murphy left the taxi , Michael who’d just had 10
minutes on the persecution of the Catholic church in Poland was numbed by
the outpouring . “Is it really true , they built a church themselves cos
the government built the town without one . And that in Albania they shot
a priest dead for babtising a baby ? ”
“Yes ” was Mrs Murphy’s simple reply though her eyes betrayed her anger
and passion .
“The Bastards , I fought a war for them , what are they afraid of ! “
“The Baby Jesus ” mumbled Mrs Murphy as she walked away .
“Let me know when your Polish friend arrives , I’ll drive you to the
airport ” shouted Michael after Mrs Murphy . She just waved in
acknowledgement , her mind was elsewhere .
Mrs Murphy did the vacuuming , and dusting for 2 hours before
stopping to make cup of tea for herself and a hot meal for Mrs Powulska .
She proped Mrs Powulska up in bed , before putting a tray down in front of
her , she watched as a still weak Mrs Powulska ate .
“So which part of Poland , does your sister come from ? ” asked Mrs Murphy
as she sipped her tea .
“Oh the south , a little place , a university place , its called Cracou “
Mrs Murphy’s cup clattered against the saucer , she put her tea down for
fear of dropping it . To her it was as if a trumpet had sounded to herald
the entrance of an angel .
“That’s where the Pope comes from !” she jabbered .
“Oh , of course , he babtised my sister’s children . This food really is
good , you could almost be a Pole , Mrs Murphy . ” replied Mrs POwulska as
she ate heartily . Mrs Murphy finished her tea fast , she’d have to give a
final sheen to things before she went . After all wasn’t a friend of the
Pope’s coming . She had seen the Pope in Coventry , sneaked in with the
handicaped thanks to Fr. Shaw , but now to meet with a friend of the Pope
, Mrs Murphy hadn’t been this excited since her confirmation .
Mrs Murphy took it upon herself to meet Mrs Powulska’s sister at
the airport . On the drive in Nanska the sister , told an awe struck Mrs
Murphy all about “Carol” , which was what the Pope insisted his old school
chums call him , his reasoning being that’s what his mum called him , so
they must call him that too . Michael cocked half an ear to the
conversation , after all it wasn’t often that he had a V.I.P. in the back
of his taxi . Mind you he had had the odd Lord Mayor or two who did think
that they were important , Michael knew from his own experience that the
really important people tended to be the quiet ones , they knew that they
were the guardians of gifts , however bizarre or seemingly useless , yes
the truly important people were the quite ones that was for sure , ask any
old taxi driver mused Michael as he pulled up outside Mrs Powulska’s .
“Thank’s Michael , come inside for a cuppa , I’m sure Nanska will not
mind . ” chirped Mrs Murphy .
“Yes , Shiela is taking the words from me . ” continued Nanska who was
now as a sister to Mrs Murphy . The sisterhood of the faith , was a bit of
a beneign conspiracy . A pair of rosary beeds and pictures of
grandchildren in a bag and there you had it , instant sisterhood no matter
what nationality , it was the mothers that gave birth to faith , and it
was meer men that said the Masses . The Pope himself knew that , that’s
why he insisted on being called Carol by Nanska and all his old school
friends .
Inside the tears flowed into the tea , Polish words and songs
rang out from the heart to the heart , there in central England , Mrs
Murphy looked on , she knew that but for the miracle of Poland breaking
the chains of Communism , this happy scene would never have happened . It
was at times like these that a good Irish drink was called for . So
reaching into the bottom of her black bag , she produced Poteen .
“Will you take some in your “Tay” ? ” , she said but without awaiting an
answer she was pouring it .
“What is this Poteen ? ” asked a curious Nanska , sitting up straight and
straightening her hugh , black clad bussom .
“Vodka ” was Michael’s reply , repeating the word in Polish , it was one
of the few words of Polish that he could remember from the war , the
others words he knew were certainly not fit for ladies such as these .
So tentatively sipping at the cup , Nanska tried her fortified tea .Her
face changed colour then slowly changed back again , rather like traffic
lights changing , only traffic lights don’t breathe heavily and fan their
mouths with their hands .
“It’s good ” said Nanska with a tear coming down her eye .
“It’s fresh if I’m not mistaken ” added Michael who was a bit of an
authority on these things .
“It was made three weeks ago , Sgt Mulhollands family send it over “
mumbled Mrs Murphy a tear now coming down her own eye .
So the three ladies and an old taxi driver got quietly and quickly drunk
, on tea strengthened with Poteen . Michael even remembered a whole song
in Polish that he’d learnt . It’s wonderful the power of good alcohol , it
brings back the memories to the old and banishes the cold of loneliness .
As for the song , it was as bad or as good as the one Mrs Murphy had sung
at the do for the childrens’s home . The two Polish women laughed till
they cried , Michael sung it even louder and was made repeat it seven
times , and all the time he hadn’t a clue for the life of him what he was
singing ….
The next day Mrs Murphy took Nanska on a trip around town to show
the sights , Mrs Murphy really liked flashing her bus pass like a police
man , in fact Starsky was her favourite . The two ladies stopped off for a
cuppa at a little cafe by the bus station . Behind them was a park and a
wood , it reminded Nanska of home .
“I feel at home here , with these woods , with a friend by my side ” ,
she squeezed Mrs Murphy’s hand , as she gazed towards the woods .
” We have woods like that back home , when I was in service in the hotels
in Killarney I used to walk in the woods . Its nice to see something so
tall and strong reach up to the sky and grow . Then you have the low
branches with their leaves leaning down and touching your hair . It always
gave me a thrill . ” said Mrs Murphy as she followed Nanska’s gaze .
“It was such a thrill , the soft earth underneath the trees , the bouncy
ground , the squirrels chattering away and jumping like acrobats from tree
to tree , the magpies too , oh it was all so grand , just think what its
like to be young .” continued Mrs Murphy in bewteen sips of tea .
“It was the closest we got to sex . ” smiled Nanska
“Yes , I suppose you are right – then we realised trees are more
dependable than men . ” laughed Mrs Murphy .
They laughed together , a shared love of trees , a shared faith , a
shared hope , they laughed as only the old can laugh , they laughed at
themselves .
“Come on , let’s walk in the woods ” said Mrs Murphy jumping up and
nearly knocking the table and chairs over .
A smiling Nanska , eagerly joined in this nonsense , oh to be young again
, youth was wasted on the young , they wasted so much time , life is for
living and loving and hoping , not sitting around and saying ” I’m Bored”
all this went through both their heads as they strode towards the wood .
Not that they actually strode , in their hearts they did , but they
progressed towards the woods arm in arm …..
They must have been in the woods for a half hour , before Mrs
Murphy felt the call of nature . So making hissing noises , and gestures ,
she ushered Nanska on , while she did a country pee . This is how Mrs
Murphy described crouching behind a tree with her dress held up about her
head so she could let nature take its course . It was while nature took
its course that it happened . A fact of human nature to be prescise ,
greed . Nanska was mugged . Mrs Murphy heard the screams and came running
, or rather huffing and puffing with her drawers still not fully pulled up
“What’s up ?” she demanded as she rearranged her underwear .
“A bandit take my bag ” was Nanska’s reply as tried to contain her heaving
bussum , such was her shock and heart rate .
Mrs Murphy looked feverishly around her hoping to see the mugger , but
there was no chance . So taking Nanska’s hand to comfort her , Mrs Murphy
led Nanska out of the wood . On the way out they found Nanska’s handbag ,
there was a trail of Nanska’s poccessions .
“So we are lucky after all ” said Mrs Murphy trying to console Nanska .
“Yes , but he did frighten me , he pushed me to the ground ” replied
Nanska as she crouched about picking up her belongings .
“Bad sest him , the divil carry him , if ever I catch him , I’d tan his
bare arse ,” said Mrs Murphy as she struggled about picking up Nanska’s
belongings .
“I have everything now , he must have thrown it down when he realised my
money was Polish kind . Sadly I miss the gold cross and chain that The
Pope gave me . ” sighed Nanska .
Mrs Murphy’s ears pricked up as she heard this , nobody , no cheeky
spotty youth was going to steal from her friend , she’d catch this
“person” if it was the last thing she did . Her head raced with anger , as
the two of them continued out of the wood , towards the bus station . Now
how would Starsky deal with this she wondered , then she wondered was
St. Anthony the one for muggings too , after all she wanting help in
finding that cross . She was awakened from her throughts by the
“Chugg,chugg” of Michael’s taxi .
“Jump in ladies , where to ? ” he said quietly , as his head had not
recovered from the night before .
“You better go to Mark’s , WE have been mugged . ” said Mrs Murphy .
At Mark’s , Mrs Murphy and her soul mate , were the life and
soul of the inquest into the mugging . Concerned looks , and dire threats
of what they’d do to the culprit were the order of the day . Patrick his
hands covered in flour came running .
“Are you alright , are you alright ? ” he said , scouring his mothers face
for signs of harm .
“Of course , I am . Only the spotty faced monster made me wet my knickers”
“You were that afraid ? ” said a worried looking Patrick .
“Don’t be so soft , you overgrown egyt , I was taking a country pee ,
when I heard the fuss , then in my rush I wet my knickers .” said Mrs
Murphy with a look that said “What kind of idiot have I for a son ” .
“So we’ve wet the baby’s head last week and now your knickers this
week ! ” said Patrick who couldn’t resist the chance of a joke .
“I’m not too old to tan your bare arse , Patrick ! ” snapped Mrs Murphy
before she saw the funny side and started to shriek with laughter .
“I’m going to catch that cheeky monkey , I don’t mind my knickers getting
wet , it’s just that Nanska a visiter to our country should not get
treated like that , it ruins the reputation of the place , they’ll think
we are all totally uncivilised . ” Mrs Murphy sounded more than indignant
, she had that look in her eye . Then by way of afterthought she added
“Besides , the little bastard stole a cross and chain given to Nanska by
the Pope himself ! “
Patrick knew it was definately a waste of time trying to persuade his
mother that she hadn’t a chance in hell of finding the mugger . He looked
about the cafe trying to think of something useful to say . Outside Amjit
barked and put his nose to the window .
“Well Amjit can help you , ” said Patrick trying placate his mother .
“Well I’ll take him home with me then . “
The next few days Amjit found himself under house arrest at Mrs
Murphy’s . She was training him with the aid of a hurling stick and ginger
nut biscuits , if he had a soul Amjit would have sold it for a ginger nut
biscuit , wasn’t Patrick the same only Rolos were his weakness . Amjit was
a clever dog already , but Mrs Murphy didn’t quite trust him as he had
ran after a squirrel while saving Jaswinder . She was an old woman she
didn’t want to be attacked while souring the town for the mugger . Amjit
already knew English and a bit of Indian but now the Gaelic were to be his
command words . Mrs Murphy did not want anybody to know what was coming .
“Well , you seem to know your stuff , so we’ll go for a walk in the woods
then .”
Walking in the woods was a joy for Mrs Murphy , a harsh word
in Gaelic was all that was needed when Amjit started to trot , having seen
a squirrel ahead .That and the odd ginger nut .She thought she’d only have
to walk into the woods and then the mugger would come out with his hands
up , but neither life nor love is like that . The first thing that Mrs
Murphy came across seemed to be a body , she couldn’t quite see so she
sent Amjit ahead , just in case it was dangerous . Amjit crept ahead and
sniffed at a white rounded thing , his cold nose touched it . There was a
startled scream , followed by a girl’s laughter . Amjit had disturbed a
pair of natural lovers . Mrs Murphy brought up the rear , averting her
eyes from the naked lovers .
“I’m sorry if my dog disturbed your husband at his “Work” , ” the
laughter in her voice , hadn’t friends of hers done the same fifty years
ago in the woods of Killarney , in a crowded house a wood can be a thing
of wonder and recreation if not procreation .
“He’s only my boyfriend !” came a laughed reply from the girl , while the
boy blushed .
“You should only do that if you know , he’d be a good father to a baby !”
was Mrs Murphy’s moral retort her eyes averted still .
“Oh , he will be , I want lots of children , we are just getting some
practice in , ” was the final remark before the girl got the boy to carry
on with a job well done .
Mrs Murphy was going to say something more but then thought of Patrick
and June , so she just laughed and laughed , they were true lovers just
like her Patrick and June , so what if they were early starters . And they
wanted lots of kids , anybody who loved children was ok in Mrs Murphy’s
book .
Further into the wood teenage children were swinging from a
rope tied to a tree . When they saw Amjit they scattered , screaming
“Police” . They had been playing truant from school , the sight of an
enormous dog had only meant one thing to them – Police . It took Mrs
Murphy a while to realise this . Then she realised she had a new problem
now , how to make Amjit invisible .
Mrs Murphy thought long and hard on how to make Amjit
invisible , it would be easy if she was Paul Daniels the tv magician , but
she was just a poor widow woman , as she insisted to her son every time
she wanted to extract a favour . Saint Francis was roped in to help but
this only gave partial success , what was needed was something to slow the
hairy beast down . Mrs Murphy even thought of attaching the old last to
Amjit’s collar , she ruled this out though , something much heavier was
needed , something that would make Amjit slow down and so make him keep
his distance and so be invisible . Then while watching the tv she saw a
blacksmith , a light went on in her mind , now an anvil would be just the
thing to slow Amjit down . It was then that Saint Francis spoke up , she
couldn’t be so cruel to a dumb animal especially after he had saved
Jaswinder . The picture of Mother Theresa looked down the wall and said
“have faith “.Mrs Murphy looked at Amjit lying at her feet like some form
of long haired rug and smiled her own saintly smile , they were only
thoughts , meer passing pagan clouds . She threw Amjit a ginger nut , the
“rug” awoke and caught it , licked his lips and wagged his tail ; he liked
her , it amused him how she threatened him with a hurling stick , he let
her think she was in charge , after all he really would sell his soul for
a ginger nut .
The door bell rang , Saint Francis had sent a helper , no last
this but a human anvil who would really slow Amjit down , it was Mathew .
Mrs Murphy smiled , those saints really loved playing games with her ,
they could really drive her to distraction , yet they always came through
in the end , even though if sometimes they puzzled her despite her
fathomless faith .
“Hello Mathew , come in I’ll make some fresh tea , I’ve a favour to ask
you ” , she said casting a sideways glance at Mother Theresa on the wall.
The next day Mathew and Mrs Muphy were on the street , a trail
of ginger nuts seperated them . The plan was for Mrs Murphy to call Amjit
and make him advance slowly along the street , picking up the ginger nuts
one by one , Mathew was the braking device to prevent Amjit wolfing down
the lot . This did the trick , as Mathew was heavier than any last or
anvil .
“Follow ” commanded Mrs Murphy from up the street . Fifty
yards away Amjit eagerly obeyed , why shouldn’t he after all , wasn’t
there a trail of ginger nuts in front of him , he was only a dog , albeit
a very large and hairy dog , but he wasn’t stupid . The pavement was a bit
wet and slippery after the early rain , and such was Amjit’s pulling
power that if Mathew were wearing skis he could have water skied along the
pavement , but since Mathew wasn’t then that wasn’t a possibility , but it
was a near thing . Amjit proceeded up the road after Mrs Murphy licking
his lips all the way , now this was fun he thought , even if he did have
to drag Mathew after him . After half an hour the supply of ginger nuts
was exhausted . Jaswinder came skipping out with a couple of packets of
ginger nuts , her father like everybody else on the street had been
watching with interest . So patting Amjit hello and goodbye Jaswinder
skipped away , her mission had been accomplished . Amjit again followed
Mrs Murphy at a distance , still weighed down by Mathew , to be honest
Amjit was getting bored , even though it was his duty to do Mrs Murphy’s
bidding , it would be a shame to waste all those nice ginger nuts wouldn’t
it ? “Now lets see if he’ll do it without the bribe , ” yelled Mrs Murphy
to Mathew . So Amjit followed her at a distance , almost inventing
pavement water skiing at the same time as he dragged Mathew along . Amjit
followed three times without reward . “Well he seems to have leant it then
doesn’t he ? ” beamed a happy Mrs Murphy . Only to be disappointed
immediately , Mathew had let go of Amjit , so a disgusted Amjit dashed
off. It wasn’t fair was it , Amjit had been tricked , he had obeyed out of
duty hadn’t he , the ginger nuts had nothing to do with it , it was the
principle , wasn’t it ?
In the cafe Mrs Murphy had a well earned cuppa while she treated
Mathew to a banana milk shake . Where had that turncoat Amjit got to ,
just when she thought he had learnt his lesson .
Amjit too was having a break , he’d dug up a favourite bone and
was chewing on it , pondering on the morning’s fun as he sucked the marrow
from his bone . It was while Amjit was chewing that he had an idea , but
he finished his bone first before he put his idea into action .
“I’ve got an idea Mathew , what if we gradually reduce the
amount of ginger nuts , then even that stupid dog will understand , “
sighed Mrs Murphy , who was tired and feeling her age .
“Like Barbara Woodhouse did on the telly last night do you mean ? “replied
Mathew as he blew bubbles into his milk shake . Mrs Murphy realised what
an old fool she had been and it was Mathew of all people who had made her
realise this .
“Come on then , I’ll try and whistle the devil back to us , ” she said as
she leant on the back of a chair to lever herself up .
Outside Amjit was sitting with his lead in his teeth , his tail
was wagging , he was pleased with himself and the bone he’d just eaten no
doubt . “Your stomach not full enough is it ? ” scolded Mrs Murphy . Amjit
just barked and skipped in front of her just like a puppy . “You better
grab him , before the rascal runs away . ” Then in front of them they saw
the fruits of Amjit’s chewing the cud or rather chewing his bone . Along
the pavement placed at intervals were fragments of bone ! Amjit thought
Mrs Murphy had ran out of bribes , so he had supplied his own , in
readiness for more fun .
“You’d teach this grandmother to suck eggs wouldn’t you ,” she
again scolded , as Amjit jumped about like a very excited puppy .
“But I thought we were just teaching him to follow you at a distance , and
how can a dog suck eggs , or do you mean carry eggs like Police dogs can
do , like I saw on – “
“Barbara Woodhouse last night , ” interrupted Mrs Murphy . She looked at
Amjit and then Mathew , then she smiled , some would call them dumb
animals yet both had shown her a thing or two . There was no doubt in her
mind , St.Francis was making a fool of her . She shook her head then she
let the laughter out , at her age she had no time nor need of anger ,
laughter was all she wanted , that and to die in her sleep and to convert
the pagan grandparents of course . The shopkeepers who had again been
keeping half an eye on proceedings came out to see what was the cause of
all the laughter , Mathew having started off too , a braying echo of Mrs
Murphy’s earthy laugh , Amjit barking for joy too , which would soon start
off all the dogs in the neighbourhood . A look along the street to see all
the bones soon explained things . So the whole street joined in the
laughter . When sanity returned Amjit proved that he’d already mastered
the trick of following at a distance . If the truth be know , Amjit had
worked things out pretty soon , but he hadn’t the heart to admit it to
poor Mrs Murphy , besides it was great fun , if she wanted to leave ginger
nuts along the pavement then he wasn’t going to stop her . After all a dog
was man’s and old ladies’ best friend .
Mrs Murphy resumed her search of the woods with her newly
trained Amjit , but to no avail . So she went and had a bun and a tea from
the cafe in front of the wood . It wasn’t fair , she’d spent all this time
and energy ,not to mention wasted prayers and still no sign of the mugger.
While Mrs Murphy was having simple fare , on the other side
of town Mrs Annette Kemp was treating herself to Black Forest Gateau
washed down by real coffee and cream all served by pretty young girls in
uniforms similiar to those Mrs Murphy had worn fifty years ago when in
service in the hotels on the lakes of Killarney . Mrs Kemp was pleased
with herself , she’d just bought Patrick his birthday present , a very
nice Rolex with clasp strap . So pleased was she that she had the watch on
her table so she could admire it while she had her gateau and coffee , and
she of course congradulated herself on her good taste , if only some would
rub off on Patrick . Then she smiled to herself , hadn’t he married HER
daughter , so if that wasn’t good taste , then what was ? She overlooked
the fact that some of her “friends” would have called it a “Shotgun
Wedding” ; but now that SHE was a grandmother those kind of “friends”
could go to hell as far as she was concerned , in many ways she was
already like the other grannie – Mrs Murphy .
Outside on the street somebody else was admiring the Rolex , a
spotty faced youth with a skateboard under his arm , a “class war” badge
on his jumper , next to a gold cross held on with a safety pin . As far as
the spotty youth was concerned here was one of the enemy , flaunting
wealth , that one watch would more than pay for a years poll tax , that’s
if the spotty youth didn’t feel poll tax was immoral . Not that stealing
was immoral , for that’s was what he was about to do .
Mrs Kemp finished her gateau , had a last sip of her real
coffee , then she put the Rolex away , into a dainty carrier with Rolex on
it . She floated outside , with the air of the Queen Mother about her ,
she was happy and content , it had been a nice morning , a very nice
morning . So when a sneering spotty faced youth shouted in her face
grabbing her precious cargo she was to taken aback . She just couldn’t
comprehend the situation , it was like stealing one of the three gifts
from one of the three kings , or slapping an angel’s bum and asking for a
bit of slap and tickle . It happened to other people but never to you , it
was as likely as a man breaking into the Queen’s bedroom . It just did not
happen . Then Mrs Kemp’s face fell , it had really happened and to her ,
just as it had happened to the Queen , even the Queen .
“Stop thief , catch that little BASTARD ,” she screamed . She hailed a
taxi and ordered “Follow that skateboard . ” Only the taxi driver laughed
“It’s too late for April Fool’s Missus . ” This really annoyed Mrs Kemp ,
being called “Missus” , and by a taxi driver . So she ordered him to take
her to the street , her daughter at least would give her some sympathy ..
“So you see the spotty creature grabbed the bag and made off on
his skateboard , I doubt if he could tell the time , unless it was on one
of those horrid digital watches , so why on earth should he steal a
“Timepiece” like the Rolex ? ” mused Mrs Kemp to her daughter , as she
sipped her tea in Mark’s cafe .
“So Patrick won’t be getting his birthday present then ? ” said June , who
was holding her mother’s twitching hand , the shock only now sinking in .
“No , he’ll have his watch , no little hoodlum is going to ruin MY plans
after all , Patrick is family now . Though you will come with me to the
shop to buy him another , I wouldn’t feel safe on my own .”
June looked at her mother , she suddenly seemed old and vunerable , the
hard real world had never dared encroach on Mrs Kemp , and now there she
was holding June’s hand , looking vunerable , June was the mother and her
mother was the little frightened child .
“Of course I will , but you need not go to the expense , after all it is
the thought that counts , ” concern in both her eyes and voice .
Outside there was a screech of brakes ,as three orange VW vans pulled up .
Out jumped eight Indians in turbans and saffron coloured robes , long
swords dangling by their sides . Behind the Indians came Mrs Murphy , like
an honour guard they heralded Mrs Murphy into Mark’s cafe .
“Nine teas , please , and some cake too , ” flashed a pearl white smile .
Mrs Murphy sat down , her boys surrounding her . It was only then that Mrs
Murphy noticed a crestfallen Mrs Kemp .
“Are you alright ? You look down today , Annette , ” Mrs Murphy enquired .
“Mom was mugged , just a while ago ,” answered June .
“Jesus , Mary and Joseph it’s an epidemic . Didn’t somebody have a go at
me , only a few minutes ago ! “
“What , somebody tried to mug you , dear God , Shiela what’s the world
coming to ? ” a startled Mrs Kemp replied .
“Oh , I’m ok the mugger just pushed me to the ground . You see the bus
conducter was in a funny mood so he wouldn’t let me take Amjit on the
bus , so the poor dog had to walk the two miles home on his own . Then
what with the dirty bus windows I couldn’t see where I was and got off at
the wrong stop . So this young lad jumped out at me . But luckily my boys
happened to be passing so they jumped out of their vans and chased him
down the street . I think he got the fright of his life , mind you he’s a
very fast runner , he just tucked his skateboard under his arm and ran
like he’d just seen a banshee , ” Mrs Murphy gave glowing looks to her
boys .
“Well , when we saw Mrs Murphy we were going to give her a lift , as it
was we ended up saving her from God knows what ,” said Amajit the one with
the pearl white smile .
“This is Amajit , and these are his brothers , Bamajit , Camajit , Damajit
,Hasajit ,Jamajit , Nanajit and the little one is Pamajit , ” said a
proud Mrs Murphy as if they were her own sons , and in fact she would love
them to be sons of hers . For they were all fine strong lads , only they
were sons of India and not of Kerry .
“And how did you you get to know such fine young men , ” asked Mrs Kemp
forgetting her own indignatities , for Amajit had the looks of an Indian
screen idol .
“She stopped me from walking under a bus when I was a child , so it is my
duty to honour her and treat her as a mother , ” said Amajit flashing his
smile straight at Mrs Kemp . Mrs Kemp very nearly swooned , a smile like
that had never been given to her , never . Mrs Murphy winked at June ,
wasn’t this proof of what she had said , Mrs Kemp was after a toy boy ,
and if Patrick was unavailable then Amajit would do fine , very fine .
June looked at the ceiling and bit her lip , Mrs Murphy was a rogue to be
sure . Amajit his smiling over , snapped his biscuit in two , and sipped
his tea . His brothers forming a kaleidoscopic imitation of him , as to
the echo they in turn snapped their biscuits and sipped their tea , if
there had been music it would have seemed like ballet or even opera .
“The lads are off to the Temple for a do , these are not their street
clothes , ” answered Mrs Murphy seeing a question form on Mrs Kemp’s lips.
“Speaking of which we must be off , ” said Amajit looking at his Rolex ,
his action rippling out to his brothers as they in turn looked at their
Rolexes . So rising like a wave , with Amajit its crest the Khan brothers
were off , just pausing long enough to nod at Mrs Murphy , and for
Amajit’s final smile to Mrs Kemp . So with a screech and three puffs of
exhaust , the VW vans with the Khan’s in them disappeared . Though Amajit
would never disappear from Mrs Kemp’s mind .
“He’s such a nice man , and were they all wearing Rolex watches ? “
wondered Mrs Kemp trying to appear nonchalant . Mrs Murphy again winked at
June before answering .
“He’s a nice lad , so are his brothers . They are worth a few million now
I suppose . Working sixteen hour days does have its rewards . They’ve
just bought the old pressing works , to expand their clothing business .
They have one sister too , but sadly she’s a spastic , they love her to
death , they are building her a bungalow of her own , next to their
parents house , so she can be independent . It’s nice that , they are nice
lads . The youngest boy is having a year off before he goes to Medical
School , he’s going to go to Birmingham because its the best . “
” I am impressed , ” replied Mrs Kemp raising her eyebrows .
“You’ll be impressed more when I catch the mugger , ” intoned Mrs Murphy .
Two days later Mrs Murphy had dragged a reluctant Nanska to the
woods , not in a last ditch hope to catch the mugger , they would be
more likely to uncover a teddybears’ picnic than that , no , to quell any
lasting fears Nanska may hold for woods . They were of course accompanied
by Amjit , whose presence would strike fear into The Hound of the
Baskerville’s , Mrs Murphy had more than prayers to be her guide .
“I’m very sorry we haven’t been able to catch that mugger ,it really is
such a disappointment to me . Three old woman all attacked by one spotty
youth . I don’t mind it happening to me , nor do I miss the fancy watch
that my son’s mother-in-law lost , its just that you a guest in our
country , and not to mentiopn a friend of the Pope’s should not be treated
like this , ” said Mrs Murphy shaking her head , as if it were all her
fault .
“You do your best Shiela , he have the luck of the Devil , and he run so
fast as you tell me , ” replied Nanska placing a consoling hand on Mrs
Murphy’s .
They carried on walking through the trees , the veins in the leaves
looking like outstretched hands , begging hands , just as Mrs Murphy’s
heart was begging the saints to help her and her Polish soulmate . Amjit
stopped and sniffed the wind . The woman looked , ahead of them a man
was relieving himself against a tree , Amjit began to growl softly , that
was one of his favourite trees , he’d often marked it , what was a mere
man doing to his tree . Mrs Murphy was on the point of scolding Amjit when
she noticed first the man’s arm . He was far away , but she’d seen eight
Rolexes the other day and to be sure that was a nineth . Then Nanska
pointed , wasn’t there a skateboard propped against the tree . Amjit’s
growls errupted into one bark ,this made the man turn to see where the
sound came from . It was the worst thing he could have done .
“Bandit , ” screamed Nanska slightly shocked at seeing the mugger again .
“He’ll be wetting his knickers now , ” shouted a delighted Mrs Murphy .
Before she could shout “Skither his Arse” Amjit was off , he knew that man
wasn’t nice , how could he be , he’d used his tree , and he wasn’t even a
nice bitch , just a mere man . Amjit howled , the birds scattered , the
squirrels raced up trees , the mugger peed on his own leg , caught himself
on his zip , and then ran like a bat out of hell . Only it would be no use
for a hound of hell was on his tail , no longer the creeping , the slow
the steady Amjit as bribed by ginger nuts , but the hound of hell , or
rather God’s Animal making a good impersonation of a Hell’s Angel . As the
mugger ran he could hear a jangling , this was Amjit’s name tag , his our
lady of Lourdes medal and his Indian holy man medal , it formed a kind of
clanging or bell ring , and for whom did the bell toll , the mugger of
course . It was while the mugger was running for his life that he
interrupted the young couple , tha naked lovers who used the wood to
create life , in fact he fell over them . Seconds later Amjit placed a
cold nose on a bare bum , it was his way of asking which way did he go .
Without bothered to pause , a finger pointed the way , Amjit sped off
barking his thanks . Amjit was beginning to think what a good runner this
mere man was , then he caught up with him . So teeth first Amjit said his
hellos .
“We better try and catch up with him then , ” said Mrs Murphy .
“Do you think your dog is fast enough ? ” pondered Nanska .
A scream rang out through the woods , as if answering Nanska’a doubts , it
was followed by excited barking . The ladies looked at one another and
laughed . So picking up the discarded skateboard they made their way
though the woods towards the source of the screams . On their way they
came across the naked lovers . Mrs Murphy averting her eyes dropped her
son’s business card beside them saying “If you need a flat give my son a
ring . ” Her son’s flat above the bakery had been empty since he built
his house , so to save the lovers from catching cold she left the card .
Meanwhile Amjit had let his quarry go , not so he could spit the
taste out before biting the mugger again , but more because it was fun to
let him go .Then he’d have to catch him again ,first Amjit ran away before
reappearing teeth first , rather like a toothpaste commercial , only one
with much more bite . The mugger was cowering on the ground squeezed into
a ball when Mrs Murphy and Nanska arrived .
“Amjit leave him be . As for you young man stand up ! ” commanded Mrs
Murphy , having the full authority of Amjit’s teeth at her command .
The man stood , he looked scared , not to mention tattered and bleeding ,
Amjit had enjoyed his blood sport .
“You can take off that watch for starters , and empty your pockets , “
continued Mrs Murphy .
In the woods behind them ,the lovers now clothed watched the proceedings ,
it appeared very strange . Two old ladies and a very big dog making a man
strip . For Mrs Murphy decided he might be hiding something so she had the
spotty man strip to his underpants , she was sure Starsky would have done
the same thing , so it must be right . While the man shivered , Mrs Murphy
searched the clothes . After a while she got up from her crouching
position , in her hand she held a cross , Nanska’s cross .
“The one Carol give me , you are a detective Mrs Murphy ,” beamed a
grateful Nanska .
Amjit barked his praise too , his tail moving like a windmill in a storm .
Mrs Murphy then turned her attention to the mugger . Behind in the trees
the lovers edged forward , they could sense the coming storm .
“So you think you’re a bigshot attacking old ladies , and WIDOWS like me
and honoured visitors to our country do you ? ” blasted Mrs Murphy .
“Well don’t think you’re too old to have your bare arse spanked , ” she
continued with her Kerry accent getting stronger by the second .
“Turn around then drop your pants mister , ” she was trying to sound as
hard as Starsky . She was getting worked up now , in fact she dropped her
handbag , the contents spilt everywhere . While she gathered up the
contents of her bag the mugger dropped his pants , he’d never live this
down . But worse was yet to come , for amongst the spilt contents of Mrs
Murphy’s handbag was superglue , used to fix her favourite beeds . In a
second a wicked idea was formed in Mrs Murphy’s mind . She grabbed the
skateboard , squirted the glue onto it , then used it to spank the mugger.
Only one spank , then while Amjit barked his approval she held the board
to the muggers behind .
“There you are , now see how dignified you feel , about the same as your
victims who you leave sprawled about ! ” screeched a triumphant Mrs
Murphy as she took her hands from the skateboard , which remained stuck
to the mugger’s behind . Nanska was silent for a second before bursting
out laughing , the old ladies hugged each other as they continued laughing
till tears formed in their eyes .As for Amjit he saw a friend ,another dog
that is to say , so with a bark of farewell he ran off to play . The
mugger made his retreat , with the old ladies laughing him farewell .
When the laughing was over the ladies continued walking out of
the woods , the lovers broke cover to run after them .
“Excuse me , but this card you gave us you weren’t playing a joke or
something were you ? ” asked the girl .
“Not at all , in fact we are going back that way now , so if you come with
us on the bus you can see my son about it ? ” relied Mrs Murphy as the
last trace of her laughter faded , leaving just slightly curled up lips as
evidence of her revenge in the woods .
“My car is parked by the bus station , we’ll give you a lift . By the way
we saw what you did to that man , it was very funny , ” said the man .
“Bad cest him , he was a mugger , I don’t think he’ll be mugging old
ladies anymore , ” said an indignant Mrs Murphy .
Back on the street in Mark’s cafe Mrs Murphy held court , telling
and retelling the story . Everybody thought she was right to turn the
tables . When Patrick and June came in Mrs Murphy held up the Rolex before
throwing it at her son .
“There’s your birthday present from your mother-in-law , I retrieved it
from the mugger , Amjit helped of course , mind you he’s gone off after
some lady dog now . “
“It’s nice , very nice , pity its not a stretch strap though , ” said
Patrick as he examined the Rolex .
“Well as it happens I stopped off at Jimmy’s , so here’s my present for
you , ” Patrick’s mum then threw a stretch stap at him .
“Thank’s mum , you were always practical , though it used to be boiled
sweets you threw at me . “
“Oh June come here I’ve a favour to ask ? ” continued Mrs Murphy still
basking in the afterglow of fame . The two then confered , before June
looked at Liz and Keith before laughing , then with a nod of her head June
consented to Mrs Murphy’s idea .June edged up to Patrick and gave him a
lingering kiss on the lips , making him blush , he hated being kissed in
public . He knew June was up to something , but what was it ?
“Patrick I have decided , or rather we have decided ” she began .
“You and me ? Decided what ? ” interrupted Patrick .
“Me and your mother , that we , ” continued June , pausing to plant
another smacker on his lips . Patrick blushed again , and looked at the
floor in an effort to hide those blushes from all in the cafe .
“To finish ,we , and this time I mean you and me are going to rent out the
old flat to Liz and Keith over there , ” she kissed her husband again to
press home her point .
“I suppose it is a waste to let it go empty , ” observed Patrick trying to
appear in charge of the situation .
“Yes it would be . Besides we don’t want Liz and Keith to catch a cold ,
oh and by the way I think we should have a walk in the woods next month .”
Patrick could see the glint in her eye , he did not understand but June
was good at explaining ……
Michael Casey 29th Jan 2011 Tears For A Butcher Chapter2
Tears For A Butcher ©
Chapter 2
Old People’s Home ©
Now an old people’s home is a thing of mercy and patience, the elderly go there to spend their final years, to find comfort and peace. A good home has caring staff who understand the elderly and their needs. Some old people never get any visitors, the staff are their family, or you may have one resident who has more visitors that all the rest of the residents combined. Whatever the case may be a home for the elderly is exactly that, a home with a capital H for HOME.
Now Percy’s occupation meant that he visited Old People’s Homes more than most, when the time came for the elderly to go to meet God it was Percy who collected the body and did the final duties for the deceased. The home owners used to coral the pensioners in the day room while Percy sneaked in to collect the bodies, it is an upsetting thing to know one of your number had gone to meet their maker, so Percy did his duty while trying not to upset anybody.
Now on this occasion at The Happy Valley Rest Home as Percy collected the body with Andy he saw somebody at an upper window banging on the window, then the old woman pushed something out of the window. It was a note with a message scrawled in pencil on it. Percy was going to ignore it but something made him think twice so once he had placed the deceased in the back of the private ambulance he went back to collect the note. Now this note was going to make waves, big waves and chance Percy’s life too.
When they got back to the street Percy sat in the office and put the paper on his desk. Sitting down he began to read it, the old lady said “help I’m starving and its so cold in here always, please help before you’ll be taking my body away.”
“What’s up pop?” asked Andy.
“Read it for yourself,” replied Percy as he turned the paper around on the desk.
“That’s not right, but what if she’s just a bit senile,” Andy replied.
“You could be right, but we need to find out the truth,” sighed Percy.
“Ok, pop, why don’t you go to the café to have a talk about it, I’ll start preparing the deceased,” said Andy.
“Good boy,” said Percy as he strode away to the café.
Percy repeated what he’d read on the note, Mark and Gillian were shocked, the elderly should be loved not starved and froze to death. George and Brownie arrived with the latest gossip, but hearing Percy’s news they were shocked.
“Bastards,” said George.
“Bastards,” said Brownie.
“Bastards,” said Gillian.
“Bastards,” repeated Mark.
“But what are we going to do?” asked Percy.
There was silence all around, then Brownie had an idea.
“Me and George are going undercover, I’ve seen it on tv, Esther Ranzen and Panorama do it, so me and George will do it,” she whispered.
Percy looked shocked but she was determined so he was wise enough to say nothing.
“But we have to protect you while you are undercover, so you’ll have mobile phones and we’ll ring you at regular intervals, or just text cos it’s quieter.” said Gillian.
“We can pretend to be window cleaners and we can slip you messages, and you can have a digital camera to get evidence,” added Patrick who had happened by.
“That’s a good idea,” replied Brownie.
They spend the morning discussing how George and Brownie would be spies like 007 James Bond, sandwiches were made and eaten, they had to try and think of everything. Once the camera was full of stills and movies they could drop it out of the window into the flower bed and if nobody was looking Patrick could throw a 2nd camera back up to them, it would only take seconds. They did forget one thing despite all the planning. How would the get George and Brownie into the old people’s home in the first place.
“The Love of Money is the Root of All Evil,” quoted Percy his eyes lighting up. “Those people are only interested in one thing, MONEY. So if we turn up with a couple of senior citizens and 2 months fee for their care, in cash, then George and Brownie will be on the inside with no questions asked.”
“I always said you were clever,” smiled Brownie as she gave Percy a peck on the cheek.
“So who delivers the parcel?” asked Brownie
“Smiling Paul, of course. I know he’s a changed man since China entered his heart, but even he’d admit he still looks a bit mean” ventured Percy.
Smiling Paul thought it was a great joke and he’d bring Catherine along too, because she looked so young and beautiful, and with him looking so seedy he’d suit the part as an ungrateful son dumping his parents. Smiling Paul insisted on donating the money in readies, he thought it would all be great theatre. Catherine thought they should respect him more but Smiling Paul just kissed her in front of Percy then bending down on one knee he said “Will you marry me?”
Catherine was shocked, Chinese never kiss in public, then she burst into tears and got to her knees besides Smiling Paul. “Of course I marry you, then we can have a harvest of children, you do want ½ half children?”
Smiling Paul began to cry now, it was all too much, a wife and children, if he believed in God he would have sung a hymn or he did not know what. Luckily God did believe in him, Smiling Paul was the Lucky One an urban legend who had won so much money but gave it all away to help the Chinese restaurant business of his friends. This legend was widespread in Shanghai and all of the rest of China.
But now the Lucky One was being rewarded with the greatest gift of all, LOVE. Percy smiled and walked away, he had tears in his eyes, God really did work in mysterious ways. Percy would have to get his poetry book out and read a few verses while this mood was upon him. God is good, God is good.
To be ready for their undercover trip George and Brownie filled their suitcase, they were full of energy bars and bottles of Lucasade and a teas made and bottled water. There were also several pairs of unisex long johns. The final thing were rape alarms, both of them had one hanging around their neck, if all else failed they were to pull the string and Hairy Amjit would bark and everybody would come running to the rescue. Everything seemed ready, George and Brownie had a final night in their own bed before “Operation Undercover”, then at 10am after a good breakfast their mission would begin.
“We are going to be acting, so don’t be upset at our behaviour,” explained Smiling Paul.
“It Ok luver,” replied Brownie.
In silence Smiling Paul drove to the Old People’s home, Smiling Paul was driving Jimmy’s golden car, it was all part of the plan. When they got there Smiling Paul and Catherine started snogging, George had to get the suitcases out of the boot himself. They were bloody heavy thanks to all of Brownie’s preparations. Brownie gave laser looks at Smiling Paul, she’d give him a good slap when this was all over. When they got to the doorstep Brownie rang the doorbell and gave George a peck on the cheek.
Smiling Paul and Catherine carried on snogging, to be honest it was not method acting, not they were going to be married they felt they should give each other their all. Two fat sisters opened the door of the home.
“What do you want,” said fattie no.1
“Yea, we’re busy watching Neighbours,” said fattie no.2
At this point Smiling Paul dragged himself away from Catherine, blowing her kisses as he did so.
“You have old folks here,” asked Smiling Paul looking at his love in the car.
“Yea, read the bleeding sign,” said fattie no.1
“Here, you can have these two,” replied Smiling Paul as he reached for his wad.
Throwing a few thousand at the fatties, Smiling Paul jogged to his car and carried on snogging.
The 2 fatties fought over the money, they just gestured at George and Brownie to follow them. That was their customer service, if they worked at proper place both would be sacked on the spot. George and Brownie struggled with the bags. The two fatties went back to their tv, shouting to George and Brownie they would be in room 3 upstairs.
Smiling Paul and Catherine resumed their snogging, lust will out. He floored the car, it was like a volcano about to erupt; so when he got home he hand braked turned and parked the car. Then he and Catherine ran up the stairs. She was going to be married to a great man, The Lucky One, and he was all hers. The bed would have broke, only they didn’t get that far, they made love on the fur rug at the bottom of the bed. He was hers and she was his, Smiling Paul cried as they made love, he was so happy, he didn’t deserve her, she cried too, she did not deserve him. So they consoled each other, they climbed into the bed and consoled each other, until the bed broke. There was a lot of consolation to be had that day, and both gave it willingly, they wondered how their kids would look. Totally Eastern or totally Western, or ½ half, genes are strange things. It is said that the writer Michael Casey wanted Eastern looking children, but they look Western but with fabulous hair. So Smiling Paul and Catherine just laughed and left it all up to God and genes, as they made love for the 5th time.
Meanwhile George and Brownie had struggled upstairs only to see their room. The mattress was covered by a torn and dirty duvet, it was disgusting. Brownie looked around there was one armchair with a spring hanging out and a very old rocking chair near the window. A wonky set of drawers were in the corner, it had been painted white to hide how bad it was but the paint was peeling off it.
“Right, you put the kettle on, I’ll sort out the bed,” ordered Brownie.
“Yes Sir,” joked George.
When Brownie had replaced the duvet with one they had brought, they had tea, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Another fined mess you’ve gotten me into,” said George as he flapped his tie like Oliver Hardy.
“This place is a tip, and its so cold,” observed Brownie.
“What’re we going to do then?” wondered George.
Brownie put down her tea and got into bed fully clothed.
“Seems like a good idea to me,” said George as he too got into bed.
So there they were in bed and it was only afternoon.
“Do you think we are like John and Yoko?” laughed Brownie.
“No we’re better than them,” replied George.
So they joked and laughed and as it was a 15tog duvet they fell asleep. When they awoke they were too hot so they took their clothes off and went back to bed. Now was it the spirit of John and Yoko, or was it Smiling Paul and Catherine’s lust dust being sprinkled on them nobody would ever know. But they decided that a platonic marriage was no long good enough. So starting slowly, ever so slowly, they renewed and remembered how it was in their youth; memory is a great thing and once it is awakened it is like a tidal wave. They made love just like John and Yoko did, only they were from Old Forge and Singing Anvil, but just as the hammer beats on the anvil keeping a steady rhythm, so did they, for a full 2 hours.
George and Brownie were a bit peckish so they decided to get dressed and go look downstairs, it must have been teatime by then, so they’d try the home’s tea. They were in for a shock when then went down, the fatties had been drinking Bailey’s so the supper was not ready, they were fat and snoring.
“Bloody useless,” said Brownie.
“Worse than useless,” echoed George.
They went into the kitchento see what was there, Old Mother Hubbard was there, Brownie sighed.
“There’s a few left overs,” said George hopefully.
Brownie went and counted the residents, 7 including themselves.
“I hope you like omelette she explained.
So George chopped and diced everything in sight, his training in the Army Catering Corp came rushing back to him, then he threw six eggs in.
“We’ll all be farting all night,” joked Brownie trying to raise moral.
“But at least the farts will keep us warm,” observed George.
So the 7 residents had an omelette.
“That’s the best meal we’ve had in a month,” observed one.
“Them fat bitches just eat all the food themselves, they just give us rubbish,” added another.
“Well eat up fast before they wake up,” said George.
Smiling Paul and Catherine were a little tired but very happy, Catherine had heard stories about English people and Smiling Paul had heard stories about Chinese people, but now they knew everything about each other, in the Biblical way. Their love would be eternal, and Smiling Paul would give odds of 7/4 on she was pregnant, but she was happy, she had waited and she’d made him wait till today and now this was the climax, well several of them. Love had conquered all, and broken the bed into the bargain, but there would be children, Catherine was so happy as she lay there beside him, her head on his shoulder. In China she could only have one child, but here with her hero she could have as many or as few as she wanted. It was great, no Chairman Mao in the bedroom, just her and her hero, she was so happy so she rolled on top of him, six was her lucky number after all, and who was Smiling Paul to refuse. Six of the best, six of the very best.
well that’s whats down on paper, you will probably never see the rest
I need. speed typist and the rest.
9 Feb 2023
200+ Audio files plus TEXT to match it to, enjoy
Humour Writing by the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England
207 Audio Files, me reading my stories, perfect to sleep with, 12 hours worth
Posted bymichaelgcaseyPosted inUncategorized
Sunday, 31 January 2021
Michael Casey the AUDIO collection, hear me read aloud my stories
Michael Casey the AUDIO collection, hear me read aloud my stories
Everything is in one take, same as the Writing
Hope you can stand my Voice
so follow your nose:-
https://profile.typepad.com/michaelgcasey
last load of audio 177 to 207 and I finish needing a drink
179.From Lenny Bruce to Innuendo
190.When and If I win the Lottery
194.Why do men think they are perfect
195.Children are not ready for school at 5
204.Things to do Before I die Part 1
TFAB Chapter2 old people’s home
f I had a legal secretary I could sit and dictate the sequel to The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
TFAB Chapter2 old people’s home
as it is I’ll probably never finish the book, not unless I get the help of God and two Policemen
still more audio:- 151 to 176
155.From Short Wave Radio to Facebook
161.Why are writers and poets so precious.mp3
166.Just Say No to Warren Buffet
174.Rediscovering John Denver.mp3
176.How do you know you are not fat
even more audio:131 to 150
131.All things bright and beautiful
133.Swimming Baths and Painting Eggs
134.Judging a book by its cover
135.Oxbridge and still cannot write an essay
138.To be a writer or to be a Preacher
140.Charles Dickens Xmas and all that
145.Chinese mother I live that life
149.Creative Writing Group on Daily Telegraph
still more audio:- 116 to 130
118.Look in the mirror and what do you see
119.from Bedowrth to Bookshelf and beyond
126.Santa is stuck up the chimney
127.I want to be a radio star a love story
even more audio:- 96 to 115
101.Horror Stories and other stuff
102.How to bribe the kids while wife at dentist
112.From a father to a daughter
115.Crockery or Cups and Saucers to you and me
more audio:- 81 to 95
84.Food for thougtht think as you watch tv
85.Education reach for the stars
87.Die Hard 4.0 or how to use your talents
88.Shakespeare in Love and other thoughts
94.Where do the tears go when they are shed
more audio:- 66 to 80
78.The Trouble with Technology
80.From Shanghai to Birmingham6 Nov 2018 15:45:50 |
Books, Current Affairs, Film, Food and Drink, Games, humor,
more audio:- 51 to 65
51.It’s got to be Winnie the Pooh
52.The best years of your life
55.Home is where the heart is.mp3
58.Go to sleep with the Japanese
well I hope you are all enjoying these, in Nigeria or Russia or Denmark or anywhere.
more audio:- 41 to 50
46.I love my neighbour’s house
48.where do tears do when they are shed
more audio:- 31 to 40
more audio:- 20 to 30
27.Crawling Like a worm in the dirt
More Audio 11 to 19 and yes this i s my voice, I got a new microphone later on, everytghing in one take
11.Dreaming of my own Bathroom
13.If Music be the food of Love
15.If you go down to the woods today
16.From Fireworks to the grave
me holding my life saver Movelat pain killer gel
0.Introduction to Michael Casey
10.Counting Money3 Nov 2018 00:23:04 | Books, Current Affairs, Film, Food and Drink, Games, humor, Music, Religion, Science, Sports, Television, Travel, Web/Tech, Weblogs
I hope you all enjoy all this, with my posh Birmingham accent, too much listening to Radio4 years ago, and having Kerry Irish mom means I do not have a traditional Birmingham or Black Country accent.
TEXT here
The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
Short stories from Birmingham PODAST TOO https://open.spotify.com/show/1wSSIExkhsR97u1jqj0iiR
Saturday, 30 April 2022
Teach Yourself English with Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham ENGLAND
Humour Writing by the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England
Teach yourself English with Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham
Posted bymichaelgcaseyPosted inUncategorized
Now this is the easy way, if you want to be bored find a Teacher and pay £20 an hour, though any super rich people I’ll give private lessons if you pay off my daughters’ student debts. Anyway, no takers as I expected. So all you have to do is read Blogs2011 and listen to the Audio which I think is on my Typepad Audio. 207 short stories, 11 or 12 hours worth. And yes if you are in Japan or Korea or China maybe you could create an app and PAY me. All of these are my copyright. Not that I expect any of you to pay me either. But. I’d rather somebody have some use of my Words.
So here is Blogs 2011, followed by the Audio.
Some of the words are also in 300 and Not OUT
MichaelCasey’sBlogs2011©
By
Michael Casey
A collection of 100
blogs
1.Window Shopping ©
by Michael Casey
Well the cold has got me so I’m all bunged up and drinking gallons of hot drinks, the kettle is whistling so wait a sec. Ah that’s better, another hot coffee, then I’ll switch to hot blackcurrant. Why do colds come at Xmas?They are as predictable as carol singers. I only ever tried carol singing once as a child that’s another memory that has rushed back to me.
Rosie told me she believed that if you looked at a toy shop window you could see all the toys but at night when you were not there they all came to life. She was a child at the time, but I hope she lets that memory come to life often. My kids still believe in Santa as do I, I go for the fittings of his new costume at Slaters every Christmas, and then Santa comes along for the final fitting, we are about the same size you see. You could say I am his body double, just like in the films.
But back to Slaters, now they only have a small shop window then you take the lift upstairs and it’s a bit like an Aladdin’s cave. But speaking of shop windows and window shopping there are many ways to window shop. The real world one can be tiring trudging around the shops, especially if you have a young and fashionable wife. So I soon realised the best way was to let her go on her own while I had peace and quiet, then once we had kids she took the kids and I had peace and quiet. The perfect solution, especially as I paid the bill. Young girls become very fashion conscience, so they were the perfect mirror, to say mum this is good or this is bad. I’m sure Shanghai husbands/boyfriends agree with me, perhaps there should be a club for the Shanghai husbands/boyfriends
Me I look in 2 shop windows and know they won’t have my size, and then I head for Slaters, sometime with the family in toe, then its like lightning, flash bang whallop, I’ve got all I need. That’ll do me for a year or two.
I do like looking in watch shop windows, watches are a weakness of mine, why are men’s watches so huge nowadays, its like having an alarm clock strapped to your wrist. I tend to go for the elegant ones, or the elegant ones in my opinion. The ones with multi dials and buttons to press and turn are a turnoff. Oris ones are nice, as are Omega. Yes I do dream of having one of those when I win the lottery or finally sell some books. My first watch was for passing the 11plus, its all in The Watch and Me an essay on my site http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
Now we are in a technological world, we have windows on the world via our tv and our computer. I was telling my girls earlier today that we only had 2 or 3 tv channels when I was their age, they could not believe it.So what do we do with our tv/computer eyes ?We window shop. Obviously I look at watches and dream of my automatic Oris or Omega, and how nice it would be. I have had maybe 20years these past 20 years or so. I’m forever carrying things and banging my watches. One steamed up and the front fell off so I superglued the glass back on, only I glued the hands together.
What else do I window shop? Well when I need a new winter coat I look at the web sites and see what I can see in xxl or 2xl as its called nowadays. Window shopping on the web allows me to see what’s available, the designs and so forth, all from the comfort of my own home, as you’ve seen from the photos on my website. The government encourages all this window shopping because it helps trade and that in turn helps their tax take, which in turn should help us. We do finally leave our homes and visit town and buy stuff and have a beer and a meal while we are at it.
We all look online before we book our holidays, some look online for love, romance, sex. And then they book their holidays. Online is our eyes, nobody will believe how old fashioned the world used to be, my grandkids won’t believe the Internet was invented, its as ordinary as trees growing in a back garden, its always been there. In the future there will be guided tours explaining about Window Shopping, about holding hands in the rain, about blokes gathered in the doorway talking about MU while their wives/girlfriends try on stuff. Window Shopping is part of world culture, it’s the 3rd oldest occupation in the world after sex and stories comes Window Shopping.
2.What’s on the Internet
Saturday, November 27, 2010, 11:14 AM GMT
Categories: Creative & Arts , Entertainment , General , Personal
There was a piece in today’s DT about the internet, my post Internet Story says a lot about the subject so I’ve brought it back below.
But I would first say that using the Internet allows you to practice your skills, it allows you to be a verbal Banksy, to share your “wisdom” with the world. It allows you to hijack websites for your own devices, its like shouting at a tv crew or pulling faces at the tv crew while they interview somebody important or self important, its like mooning while a politician drones on. Which is more important, a politician trying to save face or a mooner behind him?
Me I’m trying to get people to read The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker my comic novel. If I had a few quid I’d publish it as an Ebook, at the moment its a free read on my site. http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com I can empathise with singers who used to tour all the old folk clubs being allowed to do three songs in the interval. Finally they are allowed to do a set of six poems. Mad Dogs and Englishman was a great band from years ago, they may be dead now, I hope not but alcohol has got a few of their kind. Nick Fenwick was another great singer, as was Tommy Dempsy. Back to the Internet, here everybody has their 15mins of fame or their own virtual world in which they are a star, its like Xfactor where you are both the judge and jury and your own publicist. Yes I’ve broken some of the “rules” on the internet but thats the joy of it you can have your say, the printing press was a great revolution and brought education to the masses, so now in its way the Internet brings enlightenment to the masses. Yes its brings lots of rubbish too, perhaps 50% rubbish and 50% interesting stuff, but I do think I’m right in saying it is as important as the printing press. If we didn’t have the Internet we could still be back in the days of Monks in cells illuminating pages. Now if I could draw my book would be more sellable, a few drawings grab people so they turn the pages, cover art is important too. So if Banksy reads this how about doing some illustrations for me. As payment they’ll be one blank page in every book so you Banksy can draw to your hearts content, me I’ll just enjoy the royalties.
Now everybody enjoy Internet Story again. Michael in Freezing Birmingham
Michael G CaseyEmail michaelgcasey@hotmail.comwww.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
Internet Story ©
By
Michael Casey
So all I had to do was send an email , and then I’d be a writer , my book in every shop , my face smirking from cardboard cut outs of me holding my book aloft . My book had a great title , so it was bound to sell . A Nation Of Shopkeepers was a great title , if only people could remember their History , were people interested in History , and for that matter my book . It wasn’t a history book , would people think it WAS a history book , and then not buy it . It was a comedy drama , about a street of shops , interconnecting short stories , for all the family , but would people notice the levels , the strands of humour , or would they say it’s a Ma & Pa book , and miss the joke , just as one publisher called did ?
I decided to keep the title , though I had a reserve title , The Butcher , The Baker and The Undertaker . Then I realised the US market would rename it The Butcher , The Baker And The Funeral Arranger . You don’t think about such things when you are writing the book , you’re just happy , on a roll , in love with your own intellect , or just surprised you actually DO have any intellect , then you discover that you are dyslexic , you really are dyslexic , thankfully not a really bad case , just dyslexic . As you proof read you see you have put BUT instead PUT , LEAD instead of READ , things like this and other strange things . Sure there are spellcheckers but or is it put , you have to check it anyway . As you read you are surprised at your own ability . You didn’t waste 4years in journalism school , but your writing is GOOD , Did I write that ? Then your chest filled with pride you get somebody else to read it , and guess what ? They think its crap . So now you have to decide , should I give up or should I carry on ?
I gave up for as while , while is a unit of years in my case , my life took another path , so the writing was forgotten , it lay dormant for years , then like a phoenix it arose , or more truthfully , like a tortoise awaking from hibernation , sleep still in my eyes I slowly poked my head out , then back in , went back to sleep again , then finally with the pangs of hunger in my stomach I just had to do something . In my case it was eat , as in really eat , then I turned to my old Atari and realised it was not PC compatible , so I bought a new , or rather an old new Atari which was PC compatible . Then I spent a day copying my files so that I could read them on a PC . Then I wrote a few more pieces before I realised I’d get nowhere in England . The chances of being published were 1 in 2000 . So like a bear , I went back in my cave and slumbered .
Meeting my wife Jing Jie was a turning point in my life , and not just because it was like Thunder as Jing Jie calls it , it was a turning point because I had a professional opinion on my writing , from a journalist at the very top of the tree . Her uncle is an editor in chief , so his comments were and are like gold , worth more than my first coffee and Cadbury’s chocolate , the pleasure rush I treat myself to every day , his comments really were that important to me , and I really DO like my Cadbury’s , so being better than Cadbury’s is the highest praise I can give . So I knew the quality of my writing , even if others said and say its crap .
Getting a modern PC and internet connection was another turning point . Email in our house is like water and eclectic in any other homes . Jing Jie can “talk” to her mum in Shanghai every day . To friends all over the world as well . Birmingham IS the centre of the universe .So with hope and fear I had to transfer my files from my old Atari to the new PC . The floppy discs were old and battered , several were unreadable , finally my work , my babies were safely on the new PC . Just to be on the safe side I set up a web site , so now my work was on somebody’s server in the US , thousands of miles away , safe from fire or theft . I could also put our new baby’s photos on the web site so that my Chinese family in Shanghai and Miami and friends all over the world could see Annie and Jing Jie and me , they could even read my work too .
So now all I had to do was market my work in the US , simple really , soon I’d be doing something useful with my life , making people laugh . I’d be a writing whore , I’d get paid to make others laugh , the best job in the world . So how would I set about it ? I got a list of radio stations from the internet and started sending emails galore . I’m talking in the hundreds now , to radio stations the length and breath of the US .They could publicise my site then eventually I’d get published , or my play would get produced . It was simple wasn’t it . So merrily I went about my business , sending emails galore . Years before I used to send off big heavy envelopes with my work in , with more persistence than hope in my heart .”Thank you for your pieces of paper“was the best put down . I once even met a writer and he agreed to to read my play Shoplife , then he wrote back calling me a plagerist , because it was so good . So I used his note as toilet paper , Shoplife was so good because I had 20years of experience given to me by my sister , I just improved on it , but yet I was called a Copyist , so naturally I was angry and used his note to wipe my bum .
I wondered why my strike rate was so low with my emails to radio stations , then somebody casually mentioned , “You do know they will just delete anything with an attachment” . In these days of viruses or worms which I’ve discovered is the new trendy word , nobody can risk their PC , so I merrily send and they merrily delete . I’d been wasting my time , but not my money because I’d got a 24/7 package on my internet from AOL .However one radio station did read Shoplife . The DJ or is it Host , he called it hilarious and he could not stop reading it . It turned out he was an actor as well , though isn’t everybody an actor in the US ?So I thanked him , and quoted him in my future advertising .Humour is a funny thing . The things that make English people laugh are not the same as the things that make Americans’ laugh . We are constantly told by people on tv that English TV is the best in the world , the US material we see is the top 10% , the rest is rubbish . But I know I’d never get my foot in the door in England so I had to persist with my American campaign , so now I pasted in my material , no attachments . Just get them hooked , then paste in a sample then direct them to http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
Then bingo part2 of my life could begin ,I’d be the man that made America laugh , a naïve sentiment , but it was honest .Only AOL turns things into zip files and some people cann’t unzip your files , its like wanting sex but your zipper is broke and you cann’t get your trousers off . Such a strong urge , but no forfillment .
I switched to MSMAIL and pasted in my stuff , things started to happen , my files weren’t being deleted or too zipped up to be read . At least I wasn’t frustrated any more . Now I had an agent interested , and a new magazine , even a theatre replied .All praise to Bill Gates , and to a Christian called Pat Verato who pointed me in the direction of a few good sites .However some of the sites that I trawled through were just , so very American . Hey , you too can be a writer , just send me 10 dollars and I’ll send you my book “How to make 10 dollars” , and he does . Then there’s magazines you can subscribe to , yes you’ve guessed it , just send another 10 dollars “Writing for Beginners” . There’s all these agents too who are so successful , persuading tap dancing bus drivers to write about Tap Dancing For Bus Drivers , the complete self help book , costs 10 dollars . The agent gets 20percent , and the bus driver pays 5000dollars to print 500 copies , then he can boast he’s a writer , not just a bus driver , and guess what if you pay 10 dollars you can learn to tap dance too .
As for me , what do I think of all this ? I’d say just keep on writing , stop your selling , or attempts at selling , just write a bit . Add to your catalogue of 3 poems and 2 short stories , then search for an agent . Believe you’ll never be published and then you won’t be disappointed. There is one final thing you can do though , just tell everybody to go to my site http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
And help find a publisher for my book , and then you’ve guessed it , just send me 10 dollars !
End
3.I know your face
I know your face ©
By Michael Casey
Somebody said he knew my face today, he was looking at a photo of me on my site http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com But 100,000 people know my face, I worked at a 4star hotel for a few years so that many guests must have seen me. I have brothers and cousins, so I suppose my face could look familiar. My hair is distinctive, it went white, silver if you’re generous to me, it went silver 20 years before it should have. I’m “granddad” on the school run. In songs a face changes things, “when I saw her face” the Monkees sang, I was small when their show was on tv. “Take that look off your face” another song sings. For the Chinese its about not losing face, saving face is important. Putting a face to a name is what we say when we meet after just phone or email contact. Faces are important, we can see each other, we can see each other’s reactions, the look of love or the sneer of contempt. Fear written on a face, tired and worn out, sad eyes, pained eyes all of this is on a face. But what about a mother’s face, love is written all over it, kindness and compassion and laughter too. My wife took my mother’s photo to Shanghai to introduce her to my Chinese family, my mother had died a few years previously but the photo showed them the depths of love, the oceans of love, all of this from the smile on her face. A face is a door to the soul, a way to the heart, a sign showing just how much spirit of love is inside a person. A face is a road map for love, so always be open, a hard uncaring, a hard look is self defeating, I’m strong, leave the face pulling alone, leave it for heavy weight boxers. Me I hope I have a ready smile, a warm look just as it was given me by my parents and by my heritage. His face reminds me of Santa, now that is a face worth keeping. Smile Everybody.
4.
Counting Money ©
By Michael Casey
The King was in his counting house accounting out his money when down came a Blackbird…
We all remember this from school days, days getting further away from us all the time.
We all know how to save the pennies, save the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves.
Make ends meet, what does that mean, touching your toes perhaps?
Scrimp and save, things are tight, does that mean you are fat? Or lack of money.
We all learn about money when we are small. We remember the sound of loose change in dad’s pocket.
We were getting a treat because Dad was getting money out, we could hear the sound we were happy.
I’m old enough to remember real money, pounds shillings and pence money.
It was 12 pennies to the shilling and 20 shillings to a pound, and horses were sold in guinnies, if I’ve spelt it right.
Our money confused my American cousins, but it was fun explaining it to them. A halfpenny, a penny, a threepenny bit, a sixpence, a shilling, a florin, a half a crown, crowns I next saw, an orange 10 shillings note and then a pound note, and then other notes which I never got to see because I was too small.
Explain all that to a foreigner and they were totally lost, going to the moon was easier to understand.
I’m old enough to remember the joy of the Apollo landing, we were the world, everything was so exciting, Apollo and Ali not to mention the Beatles and real money.
A penny was made of copper and so was the half penny, the threepenny bit was six sided with a portcullis design on it, it went green with age. The sixpence was very slim slimmer that today’s 5 new pence. The shilling was thicker and perhaps bigger than today’s 10pence. It was real money and the sweets it bought were so much better than today’s sweets, or so it seems.
We knew about money because we had lodgers and they came to the back door to pay the rent, sometimes barely able to stand up, smoke and beer belching over us kids. Are you alright Mrs Casey? As they leant on the lintel for support, staggering away to the pub again.
The gas and electric meters had to be emptied and the money counted. We had a copper coloured metal jug which had the keys for the locks on the meters inside it, when dad had then we knew he’d be counting soon. He emptied the money on the kitchen table and started counting, piles of coins, shillings and florins.
Dad was like a Casino croupier counting and stacking the coins. Then when he’d finished he’d put the coins in little plastic bags, and after that in a small leather black bag. This was his lunch bag for work at the foundry, but when the gas or electric bill came it was the bag for the money. I was charged with walking down to the corner shop, there I’d present the money to Mr Singh who wouldn’t even weigh it, just throw it in his safe and peel off the money from his very large wad from his back pocket. Smiling we’d say our goodbyes both happy with the exchange. Who needs a bank when you have a corner shop?
There are more stories to tell, but I’ll save those for another day.
TTFN
Michael
5. We Are Words
We Are Words (c)
By
Michael Casey
Words have meaning words have power
Words are nothing but hot air
Words mean this words mean that
Words can set you free
Words can send you to jail
Words can be sprayed on a wall like cat’s pee
Words can be printed on a press and sell millions
Words can be illuminated one at a time by Monks
Words are lies words are truth
Words can send you to war
Words can bring peace
We are Words
In the Beginning was the word
But what is the last word
6.
If Music Be The Food Of Love ©
By
Michael Casey
If Music Be The Food Of Love wrote Shakespeare, he was right, Music Is The Food Of Love. A boy can get up close and personal if he has the right mood music. A girl’s heart will melt if he has the right song on his hifi, or should I say IPod. Music touches us, it makes our hearts beat faster, just as a bit of flesh revealed makes our eyes dilate.
In the interests of balance should I reverse the sentence, a boy’s heart will melt, or a gay lover’s heart will melt etc. Let’s take that as read, Love does Conquer All as my mum once encouraged me, and if you look at my family photo you’ll see IT DID.
Now Music has been a big thing in my life, since 1974 to be exact. How can I be so exact? Well my brother went off to be a coal miner then, that was his gap year before they were even invented. He did go off to a very good University the year after, the very best to be exact. So while he was a miner I was all alone in the homework room. To break the silence I listened to a radio while I did my homework. So love of music while I struggled with Latin homework, Latin is a form of torture but it does focus the mind, I’m pleased to say I got a B. Remember the Ablative Absolute is like, say, remember the Alamo.
Years later I used to go to a Folk club and see 3 bands every week. Later still I went to a Jazz club, mainly Trad Jazz, so I know a good or bad musician when I hear one, and I know a good voice when I hear one. If ever I develop cancer it will be because of all the years of smoke while I listened to music. The idea for the Jazz band and Jazz funeral in The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker came from all those years of music.
I love my radio so much, it was and still is a constant companion. Though before I got my own house I also listened to plays on Radio 4, I can spot one from 100yards now, 20years of listening to Radio 4 before I took up a pen myself. But it’s music I want to tell you about. Music is a reservoir of emotions, past and present. Elvis brings back memories, why? My dad discovered Elvis in his 60s, there was a series of Elvis films on TV over Christmas so my dad watched them all and was impressed. If there was a good song on the radio dad would raise the volume and then lower it again when the other rubbish returned. Dad would be shaving in the kitchen because the bathroom was too cold and he’d come in the living room all lathered up and he’d say he/she has a good voice.
Me, I’m very eclectic in my tastes though Regaee does leave me cold, its washing machine music the same repeat motion/noise as a washing machine. Yes I know a whole avalanche of criticism will fall on me, but as Joanne used to say “we are all different” so let’s agree to disagree. What’s amazing nowadays is that lots of the music I remember is 40years old. I was young when I heard Eric Clapton for example because of bigger brothers, so now it makes me realise I’m getting old, being called “grandpa” by teachers when I do the school run is one example. I tend to listen to Magic radio on my dab radio, because the music is good and they don’t prattle over the songs. But I still am amazed at the age of some of the music, but it’s the music that’s old, NOT ME, I still feel 20 in my head.
Today Lady Gaga is Queen, she has a great voice and is very pretty, ok very sexy. Her videos are fun and she seems to know how to stay ahead of the music and other press. You get so many wanna bes who if you listen to their voice really are 2nd rate, 1 hit wonders. I suppose the test is, if you listen to your dab radio and hear a voice do you want to open your eyes and poke your head out from under the duvet. If the voice is good then you will because the dab text will tell you who is singing. On some of the tv talent shows the voices are terrible, but when you hear a good voice you can press record on your Sky+ remote. If my dad was still alive he’d raise the volume on the radio to listen to Lady Gaga, if he saw her he might think she was a modern Dorethy Lamore in a Bob Hope and Bing Crosby Road Movie. But Gaga is already making her own Road To movies and they really are a modern form of Art.
7. Bring On The Tears ©
By
Michael Casey
What makes you cry? I’ve just wiped a few tears away before I started talking to you. Today in 11th Nov 2010, which is Remembrance day, it is also my dad’s Birthday, he would have been 89 today.
My dad was a man of peace who spent his life in the heat of the furnace,The District Iron and Steel, Brasshouse Lane was where he worked for 40 years. He came over to England in 1944, he was a blacksmith. My father was a gentle man a kind and caring man, hew spoilt me he always got me an extra ice cream when he was on holiday, my many siblings called me Pet because of it.
If there was a film on tv and it was touching, my dad used to clear his throat and pretend he was getting a cold, he move to the kitchen to dab away those tears. Or he’d put the kettle on. My dad was very very strong, after our mum had died he said she was strong, he said mum was as strong as a horse, the highest compliment a blacksmith can make. My mother died in her sleep next to her husband of nearly 50year. My brother climbed into the bed and cradled her in his arms and tried CPR but she was already dead. Eight weeks later, the same brother heard a noise, it was our dad falling out of bed. My brother laid dad down on the bedroom floor flat and started CPR, he screamed to another brother, 999.My brother saved our dad.
I wrote all of this down in Padre Pio and Me. The bottom line, I have a Shanghai wife and 2 bilingual daugthers all because of my brother and Padre Pio too.
When we look at an object we have an association too, an object is not just an object its an association too. The electrical socket for my washing machine is there because my dad put it there, it doesn’t mean I cry every time I do the laundry, but it does mean I smile. I have an old barn chair with the back broken off, my mum used to stand on it when she washed the outdoor windows, its been in my house nearly a quarter of a century. This reminds me of my mum. In fact I sat on that chair with the old typewriter balanced on a red stool when I wrote my comic novel The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, I can even remember when and where we bought that stool, it was 1973. Simple objects are full of memories and meaning. In Citizen Cane it was Rosebud the sledge that meant so much when Cane died.
I had a pair of Rosary beads but I felt they were too gaudy, so I gave them to my mum. No doubt she used them well, she really knew how to pray. That may have been 15 to 20 years ago, now she’s gone, but my brother said he had a spare set of Rosary bead would I like them. So he have them to me, he said they belonged to our mum, and yes they were the very same pair. So love and “objects” had performed a circle. My sister’s house has white lillies scattered all about her front garden, they only appeared after our mum had died. Mum had sneaked up to my sister’s house and planted them with Love. So after she was gone there appeared a reminder of her and her Love.
I have a speaker in the corner of my living room, my brother used to play Cream music on it via a reel to reel tape recorder. So that too has an association. I did in fact meet Eric Clapton when I was working in a 4star hotel, so that in a way was a circle.
There are many things and many lives that touch and connect with one another, such as the lolly pop lady when you do the school run, or the nice dog tied up outside a school waiting for the kids to finish school.There are grand gestures too, such as in My Big Fat Greek Wedding the dad buys his daughter a house, right next door to his own. All this is love in many many forms and I’ve just touched the surface. I can remember my mum crying her eyes out over a broken wooden coat hanger, why?Because her mother had given it to her in 1944 when she had left Kerry for England. Many things Bring On The Tears, but they are tears of Love.
8.
If You Go Down To The Woods Today ©
By
Michael Casey
Well we all know about Teddy Roosevelt and how he could not bring himself to shoot a bear while out hunting. Teddy Bear came into existence. Thousands of bears, millions of bears, probably more bears than there are people in China have “Lived” thanks to teddy. I bought my future wife a panda when we first met, the panda was made in China, just as she was. In fact she used to say I was her Panda before she changed her mind and called me Panzi in Chinese which means FAT FAT BOY. So that panda travelled from China to England and then back to China, and then she brought it back home to England when she came back to me, that’s 15,000 miles by my reckoning. My daughters have been back and forth a few times, when you marry a Shanghai girl international travel is inevitable.
Girls just love their teddy bears too, my smallest just adores Winnie the Pooh, she was saying a few hours ago she wished she could have a Winnie the pooh bed and carpet and wallpaper, basically everything that could possibly be Winnie the Pooh. My girls have received lots of cuddly toys, teddy bears and all things cuddly. I did a count a while back and I stopped at 40. These toys live behind the settee next to the vacuum cleaner and my old collection of CDs. Every now and then my small daughter drags them out from the 3 Plastic bag carrier bags and makes them pay attention, she plays teacher and they are her class. She then takes the register before starting to read to them. The cuddly toys sit up straight listening eagerly while she reads to them, she is quite a strict teacher.
Now a while back while the wife was tidying up the plastic bag with the cuddly toys broke open scattering teddies everywhere. So we had to have a cull, you have to feed fizzy pop gently to the toys until they fall asleep only to awake at the North Pole where Santa welcomes them and makes them as good as new until they become new toys for new owners. We had to have another cull today, my small daughter separated the sheep from the goats so to speak. Then the unwanted toys were placed in an Plastic bag carrier next to the front door, no fizzy pop for them, just a plastic bag, in the morning they will find themselves in a charity shop soon to have new children to love them. There was one cuddly toy a hush puppy dog that we had brought back from Florida years ago neither of my girls liked it, but I do so I have rescued him from the Plastic bag bag, he can live on top of my bedroom Dab radio. I cannot decide what to call the dog, my new best friend, we bought it in a shoe shop, HushPuppy maybe, or Subway the dog. We always said if we have a real dog we’d call him subway.
Christmas is coming so the smaller cuddly toys have been saved and will decorate our house once Christmas gets nearer. For now my daughter has arranged them on top of the piano, looking over my shoulder I can see, Winnie the Pooh(of course), Tigger and another Winnie the Pooh, a snowman with bells, a cat from Shanghai who’s chasing Minnie Mouse along the keys, it sounds like Jazz and finally there is a smiling teddy with Christmas hat and gloves on. Well I hope the toys find nice new homes via the Charity shop, as for me I hope HushPuppy/Subway hasn’t left any messages on my Dab radio.
9.
Teddy Bear Cull ©
By
Michael Casey
Well we all know about Teddy Roosevelt and how he could not bring himself to shoot a bear while out hunting. Teddy Bear came into existence. Thousands of bears, millions of bears, probably more bears than there are people in China have “Lived” thanks to teddy. I bought my future wife a panda when we first met, the panda was made in China, just as she was. In fact she used to say I was her Panda before she changed her mind and called me Panzi which means FAT FAT BOY. So that panda travelled from China to England and then back to China, and then she brought it back home to England when she came back to me, that’s 15,000 miles by my reckoning. My daughters have been back and forth a few times, when you marry a Shanghai girl international travel is inevitable.
Girls just love their teddy bears too, my smallest just adores Winnie the Pooh, she was saying a few hours ago she wished she could have a Winnie the pooh bed and carpet and wallpaper, basically everything that could possibly be Winnie the Pooh. My girls have received lots of cuddly toys, teddy bears and all things cuddly. I did a count a while back and I stopped at 40. These toys live behind the settee next to the vacuum cleaner and my old collection of CDs. Every now and then my small daughter drags them out from the 3 Iceland carrier bags and makes them pay attention, she plays teacher and they are her class. She then takes the register before starting to read to them. The cuddly toys sit up straight listening eagerly while she reads to them, she is quite a strict teacher.
Now a while back while the wife was tidying up the plastic bag with the cuddly toys broke open scattering teddies everywhere. So we had to have a cull, you have to feed fizzy pop gently to the toys until they fall asleep only to awake at the North Pole where Santa welcomes them and makes them as good as new until they become new toys for new owners. We had to have another cull today, my small daughter separated the sheep from the goats so to speak. Then the unwanted toys were placed in an Iceland carrier next to the front door, no fizzy pop for them, just a plastic bag, in the morning they will find themselves in a charity shop soon to have new children to love them. There was one cuddly toy a hush puppy dog that we had brought back from Florida years ago neither of my girls liked it, but I do so I have rescued him from the Iceland bag, he can live on top of my bedroom Dab radio. I cannot decide what to call the dog, my new best friend, HushPuppy maybe, or Subway the dog.
Christmas is coming so the smaller cuddly toys have been saved and will decorate our house one Christmas gets nearer. For now my daughter has arranged them on top of the piano, looking over my shoulder I can see, Winnie the Pooh(of course), Tigger and another Winnie the Pooh, a snowman with bells, a cat from Shanghai who’s chasing Minnie Mouse along the keys, it sounds like Jazz and finally there is a smiling teddy with Christmas hat and gloves on. Well I hope the toys find nice new homes via the Charity shop, as for me I hope HushPuppy/Subway hasn’t left any messages on my Dab radio.
10.
From Fireworks to The Grave ©
By
Michael Casey
The girls were singing at a Wedding Yesterday morning, they came home telling us about the bride and groom. They also heard that there was a fireworks display that night. They asked could they go, so I said yes if they behaved.
They behaved all afternoon, so at half past six I nagged them top put on full winter gear, hat, coat, scarf and gloves. They wouldn’t believe me that it would be that cold outside but I explained it would. So reluctantly they put all the layers on. The witch as we call my wife drove up to the firework display. It was behind the church where they had been singing a few hours earlier. My wife, or the witch said she’d collect us a few hours later, she said I could ring her. Only I had forgotten to bring the mobile phone, I have only acquired a mobile phone this year and I don’t really know how to use it, an I don’t really want it either, its for emergencies, its on the Asda tariff because that’s the cheapest. Its my wife’s 1st phone. Anyway we said goodbye and we went to watch the firework show.
Only there was a problem, the price to attend was too much, I have to watch every penny at the moment and I didn’t think it was worth it anyway. So we stood on the pavement in front and to one side of the church. From that vantage point we enjoyed the fireworks display, a bit like watching tv though your neighbours window. There were a few other families who did the same. So we watched the fireworks while my 9 year old filmed it on our old digital camera, she was very pleased with her efforts. I promised them we’d buy sweets and pop to make up for not seeing the fireworks display officially. My girls understood and after 20mins of illegal watching of fireworks we started to walk home. As I had forgotten the phone we’d have to walk and not get a lift from mum. But I do know how to improvise, it’s a gift I do have.
We stopped at the 1st sweet shop and they roamed around, but girls being girls they could not make up their minds, so they left that sweet shop with nothing. Now from the church to our house is a good 25min walk and is twisty and curvy and runs alongside the woods at Warley Woods and golf course. So as its was the Eve of Haloween I asked them did they want to walk through the dark woods. No they both said, but I knew they would like it so we crossed on the crossings which cross the race track of a road. The boldly we went a few yards into the dark dark woods. We were only there for a minute but it was a good thing to do so close to Halloween. Then we crossed back to the safer side of the road. My smallest daughter wanted a rest so we stopped at a bus stop and sat on the plastic seats, I told them that I had a bus pass, would they like me to leave them there while I jumped on the bus.
After a couple of minutes rest we resumed our trek back, were we like the Von Trapp family, no Swiss mountains for us, only the long and winding road. The kids could see the retaining wall of their school, from that point on, even in the dark they knew their way home. Spirits lifted I had an idea. My big daughter’s friend lived just down the road on a side road. So when we were outside her friends house we did ghostly noises, just like in Michael Jackson’s Thriller. I thought I made the best screams. Sadly no lights went on in the house, not unless we had given her nan a heart attack.Further down the road by the light of a front room we could see a child in a witches Hat he was pretending to be a witch. It turned out that he was a friend of my other daughter, this was too good an opportunity to miss, so again we made ghost and ghoul noises. The child inside lifted the curtain to check was the devil outside, no it was only us. My big daughter laughed and laughed when she say his face appear, she hid beneath the high retaining front wall and then ran laughing to use further down the road.
We went to Thimbermill and got our chocolate and Dr Pepper, we had had some fun after all. My small daughter had said when we were in the dark dark park that she hadSeen a cross, we were in a graveyard. I think it was the support posts for a sapling, not unless it was….
Finally home we decided to scare mum, our resident witch, so my big daughter did her big scream and she managed to scare the neighbours over the road.but mum had the last laugh, she was sitting in dark watching a Chinese movie on the internet so when we entered the house she scared us.
Well that’s how we enjoyed our Saturday night. Tonight 31st Oct 2010 we had several trick or treats at the door, so I just screamed back I’mdead,” followed by my best Vincent Price scream/laugh. But the kids and parents weren’t impressed. Today does mark an anniversary, its 11years since I was made redundant from CAN been a few varied years, and best of all I have two daughters whom I can stroll in the dark withDon’t tell anybody though, my witch is more like Bewitched
11.
My Arm Chair
I did actually bust my armchair the other day. My kids do sit on the arm rests with me while we watch films, Camp Rock, High School Musical etc for the zillionth time.
My wife used to sit on my lap in my rocking chair, the rocking chair lasted 18 years. So the current armchair may be 6 years old. I was lucky with the rocking chair because it was part of a suite, in fact it was the only reason I bought the suite. As for the current armchair it was part of a suite too but the customer did not want it so I picked it up cheap for £45, yes only £45. All my girls do squeeze onto it while they watch Phoenix TV, now the bottom has fallen out of the chair, we’ve had to put a big cushion under the seat of the chair. So that’ll do until we can save up for a new armchair. I had a quick look in two furniture shops and its £200 plus just for a single armchair. I will go back to the same furniture shop where I picked up my bargain 6 years ago, but I’m not holding my breath.
Rocking chairs are great and I’d love to have another furnished rocking chair, perhaps I could be a rocking chair tester, or the NHS could send me one of their new vibrating chairs. A good chair is a thing of beauty in itself, and the rocking is very soothing too, and with a nice drink in your hand then that is poetry in itself. Cue Queen’s Song We Will Rock You.
When our dog long ago broke its pelvis he was saved by the vet, and we placed him in our dad’s old armchair when the dog came home. When our dad came home from the steelworks the poor dog got out of the armchair because he knew it was dad’s chair, I remember it so well. Our cat used to enjoy an armchair too, soft and cosy, she’d fall asleep purring like a Jaguar car.
So the point of all this musing? Enjoy your armchair, because your kids and wife and finally grandkids love that chair too, in one object you capture the word family.
p.s. cross your fingers so I find a cheap replacement
Michael
http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
12. The Simpsons are modern Shakespeare
The Simpsons are modern Shakespeare ©
By Michael Casey
I just read a piece in this morning’s DT it was about the Vatican’s newpaper and the Simpsons.
The DT comment button did not work so I’ve written this piece instead.
Shakespeare touches all of us, once we learn or are taught how to understand it. It may mean a West Side story experience. It may mean Shakespeare in Love or a modern version with Leonardo di Caprio.
But it is all Shakespeare, yes I know the literati will moan as the always do, but underneath it is Shakespeare. It’s the universality of it, http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com for my stuff, more like an Ealing Comedy. But back to today the Vatican/Jesuit take on the Simpsons. My girls tease and say I’m like the dad in the Simpsons, I tell them I’m much much slimmer. Comedy pokes fun and draws us closer together as we laugh at what’s happening, and a big part is laughing at others’ suffering, PC people will spin in their graves, and the soon the better.
There was a really good series on tv about Shakespeare and how he could have been a secret Catholic amongst other things, not to mention his eclectic background, he could touch bases with so many things because of his life experience. So the Simpsons touch bases with us because it highlights the worst in us all, and then we laugh at ourselves, there is no “I couldn’t possibly be like that” because we ARE like that. I suppose in the New Testament the common touch in the language/life draws us towards the Divine, The Simpsons could it be called the common man’s Bible? I don’t know, you’ll have to read more of the Bible and watch more of the Simpsons. And ask the Jesuits who write the Vatican newspaper, me I’m going to find my deck of cards you may remember the song.
13.
Which Way Do You Look?
By
Michael Casey
Which way do you look? I’m thinking of this because it’s an anniversary today, so it got me thinking. I also heard today about the funeral arrangements for our old priest, he was the priest who came to the house to confirm that our mum was indeed dead, when my dad saw him enter the house with my brother and sister my dad started to cry. So now we cry for that priest.
Events make you look this way and make you look that way. Events touch us and pain us, events make us laugh and make us sigh. Today in Chile the whole nation screams in celebration, to be honest the whole world smiles too, we are the world.
When you look in a mirror which way do you look? If you are a girl or a lady you look at your body and wonder is it as you want it to be. Is your hair good this way or that way, do those clothes really suit you or should you take them back to the shop to exchange them, you’ve tried 20 things to match them but they just don’t work with your wardrobe. Yes you’ll take them back, I mean your mirror is so much better than the one in the shop, and why don’t husbands understand about clothes.
Men look in mirrors for 2 seconds as they drag the comb through their hair, they never seem to notice the stubble on their chins, or the paint on their jumpers, they shame their wives.
Do you look forward or do you look backward? It depends on how your life is doing. If you’re on the dole with no hope you may look backward to when you had a job and the money that went with it. You’re afraid to look ahead it’s looking into the gloom, its like the Titanic, all fog and mist. Some take refuge in drink or worse, glass ½ full or glass ½ empty, or maybe the glass is just not big enough. Your prospective influences how you cope with things.
You can look forward by looking at the property pages on http://www.rightmove.co.uk if only you get more money then you’ll move house, even if it would really be a lottery win amount of money. You can look forward more realistically by looking at argos and currys and comet and do some window shopping for the things you really need to replace once the money comes in again. A new cooker perhaps, a new living room carpet, perhaps a fridge, or just upgrade the central heating boiler. All these are looking forward.
I look back a fair bit, because I have lots of memories and spent a lot of time with my dad in his good years and his fading years in the old people’s home, you can find out more by reading Padre Pio and Me on http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com I have almost total recall for my family events. I’m the one who remembers all the family growing up things. When my brother went to University he bought our little sister a tricycle, it was £5, that was good use of student grant, over 40 years ago. Now my own daughter has ambitions to go to that University. My younger daughter had a tricycle too, I got it as a gift from a toy show that passed through a hotel where I was working a few years ago.
I think having memories is good, it certainly means I have material to write about, growing up with lodgers for example. I look back with love and think just much love we got from our parents. “You are as good as anybody” is what I can remember my mum saying, proud and defiant she was, for her love was a nuclear weapon. Mothers know how to use nuclear weapons, their love really is that powerful. I have an idea for Tears For A Butcher my 3rd book, if ever I get to write it.
14. A Winter’s Day
As I look from my window I see the blue blue sky. Birds dive and soar better than any circus acrobat, they are painting a picture with their wings. Tiny tiny whisps of white cloud remain, like left over candy floss on a childs face, like white whiskers on a very old woman’s face.
Curtains are pulled open and windows are inched open too, daylight and fresh air to bedrooms shuttered down against a cold winters night. People stand and yarn and scratch too as they struggle to wake up fully. Then one or two realise they don’t wear any pyjamas so they hurry away from their windows, their wives, their husbands, their lovers laughing at their stupidity. At least old Mrs Jones may have had a thrill.
The sounds of morning, of daylight rise. Slowly the sound of the milk float, the sounds of milk bottles clinking together as the milkman does his rounds, this way and that. The sound of of Mrs Murphy walking her dog, the dog panting in the cold winters air. He doesn’t have a sheepskin coat to keep him warm. He has his own fur coat but this winter is a cold one, so Goldie the dog could do with an extra coat too.
People dance down their door steps to their car, nagging children to hurry up as its cold. Children write their name in the frost on their neighbours’ cars before being told off. John the neigbourhood jogger rushes past, the kids stick their tongue out at him, he does the same, they all laugh, only for John to miss his stride slip on an icy patch and fall to the ground hurting his elbow as he does so. Still laughing the kids get inthe car and are taken off to see grandpa, John is rubbing his elbow and his bum as he gets ups gingerly.
The lads, we are so hard, appear from their homes to noisily attack the day, Sunday is for shouting, but not too loud, as they have headaches and hangovers, did they really chat up that ugly fat girl, but they gave her his brother’s mobile number and not his own. They stride off to the news agent for The News Of The World, just for the sports pages, their mums can read the scandal section and the horoscopes.
One or two black people wearing their Sunday best pass by on their way to church, a throwback to decades before when people still went to church and when people still wore their Sunday best. People used to dress up to go to the theatre too, but now, but now.
I reach for the kettle and have my first coffee of the day, coffee with milk and no sugar, the way English people have coffee, not the American way, just the soft English way. My kids want toast and peanut butter, or cheese on toast, so my 3 slices of toast become one slice of toast as I feed my girls. I nag them to put slippers and socks on, yes we have nice carpet but in the winter’s weather they are always getting colds, so I nag them, I nag them. My wife nags them in Chinese too, or Shanghai dialect. The phone rings, its Germany calling, or rather my wife’s best friend who’s calling from Germany, the cackle or hens, of chickens clucking is the noise these 2 Shanghai girls make, as they talk in Shanghai, when are we coming back to Germany is the message. Cluck cluck cluck.
The sky has changed the blue has changed to grey, will the snow return, its been a snowy winter over here in Birmingham, some parts of the country have had the worse weather in 20years. The children have quietened down, my wife has relented and put a nature program on the tv for them. As for me I was going to try and write a poem but instead you see what’s before you. I’m half listening to Mike and The Mechanics a cd I’ve loaded to the computer, “give me the simple life” he sings, I suppose my life is a simple life too. But if we can see the poetry in life then we enjoy the simple things which make up all are lives. All our lives are poetry if only we take the time to watch and listen, while we’re making toast for the kids.
15. My Atheist Friend
I spent the afternoon with my friendly atheist he was condemning God, he thought God existed but only as a bad and evil thing. He assumed a lot about my faith, and was wrong about it and me. Now should I bother to try and convert him? Should I point him in the direction of his local church where he could find himself a nice wife. Do people go to church to finds wives, now that’s another question. Or should I let him carry on until he stumbled over his own direction. I did explain how I stood by my fridge and asked God to intervene in my life, my 3 wishes so to speak, its in my essay Padre Pio and Me on my site. And then as if by magic I met my Shanghai wife. However atheists put themselves in a box, a cold steel box and throw away the key, and they are not Houdini’s who can escape, they are like collapsed dead stars deep in the cold of space.
Does family make us believe in God? Wishing for a family was one of my 3 wishes. I got all my luck in one go is what my Kerry cousins say. You ask for anything will do and you get the best, better than all the rest as the song goes.
THe autumn leaves fall and Life will soon die, winter will come and cold will desend, but in the spring there will be growth as Chance the gardener. How to plant a seed where there is forever autumn as another song goes. How do you plant a seed in an atheist’s heart does he have to suffer a dark night of the soul before like a caterpillar he emerges as a beautiful butterfly? Its a difficult question especially when I got my faith at the nipple. Others of many faiths learnt their faith when they were toddlers, the trendy I’ll wait till they grow up so they can decide for themselves always strikes me as child neglect of the worst sort.
Christmas is a happy time full of innocence and hope, perhaps I should drag my friend to Midnight Mass and let him hear carols, silent night holy night. When we sing and remember our family members who have gone ahead. Should I make him look up at the stars overhead twinkling to eternity, for there is always hope. Hope springs Eternal.
16.
Words are for what? ©
By Michael Casey
Words are for what? Conversation, a chat, gossip, juicy gossip, a quiet word, a stern word, a protest, a scream, a shout, a murmur, whispers, a buzz or just plain old prattle.
Today the news is full of the Labour Party, much is being said and not said, how will the future be, will they the brothers bury the hatchet, do they wish to bury the hatchet in one another’s head. Are they both lying about everything? Or are they both champions of truth. One thing is certain the Tories just love this result.
Political reporters just love it too, those politic al reporters are prettier nowadays too, I remember when I was a child it was just Robin Day in his dickybow talking to other men about politics. I once saw Robin Day in the street, he was a really fast walker. Now Robin Day was great with words, he could and would call somebody a %%%$$%^&& to their face but he used such elegant words, it would be an honour to be dumped on by him. Robin Day’s most famous quote was “Some here today gone tomorrow politician.” He said that to Sir John Knott when the Falklands War kicked off, John Knott walked off set. At the time nobody knew where the Falklands were, were they in extreme northern Scotland?
Words though do have so much strength. Hitler knew this, and look what happened. Other evil leaders did the same thing, pick your own despot.
Sometimes all it takes is a word and things can be healed. Sorry is the hardest word to say as the song goes. Kids play in the playground and harsh words are said, kids are cruel is what any teacher will tell you. “Take it back” is another catchphrase, then you have to say the magic formula of words and all is healed. Or is it? With kids in the playground, or between brother and sister yes, hopefully. But with international relations? Pick your own dispute.
Love songs have so much power, or certain words can tickle us and make us smile, or make us angry. When I was in Shanghai in 2000 meeting the family at one dinner a 13year old boy was proud to sing a song he knew in English, Michael Row the boat ashore. He grew whiskers on his chinagin the wind came out and blew them in again. The Chinese boy was so proud. It was the same song that my brothers and sisters used to sing to me to make me cry. I think I laughted in 2000. In 2007 at another dinner I met him again, he asked did I remember him, he was now as big as myself. Of course I remembered him, how could I forget that song and the association. I told the Chinese lad to keep up with the English and do Law at Uni. I was working at a law firm at the time.
A way a woman dresses has a lot of power over a man, it leads to the power of love. The way a man dresses has power over a woman, a fireman for example. The way a man undresses has power over a woman too, the Chippendales or The Full Monty…..
But back to words, if they are not matched by action then they are like steam coming off a coffee on a train, just evaporating into nothingness. A few simple words with action attached is better than a hurricane for blowing inaction away. My last uncle died recently and after the funeral his son in law said “He didn’t say much but when he did it was worth listening to.” He was a quiet man, but he was loved so much, and his words were worth their weight in gold.
17. Cobwebs of Love
Kids need good parents, friends we choose for ourselves, your families you get anyway.I’m lucky I had great parents. Faith does help, but kids get bigger and decide for themselves if their parents were talking rubbish or were worth listening too.Kids travel and find their own way home to their faith and their families. Elastic is very important in relationships and faith. If you try to keep things set in stone then you will be in for a fall. Nothing is set in stone, friendships change and alter and our own understandings change and alter.Have a bit of elastic in your life is my best advice. You are not in an army and getting up at 5am and doing all the marching and so forth. Yes have discipline and rules, but be aware IF you force somebody to do something when they have the chance to rebel then they will. Youcannot chain anybody to you or your faith, brainwashing is a bad idea, listen to the Genesis song Jesus we know him…….So you bind your family and friends and faith to you by cobwebs of love and nothing stronger than cobwebs of love. Love should be like that its a cobweb of love, also be happy to have a Prodigal Son in your life, happy because you will always welcome them back. If you’re lucky you’ll never have any Prodigal sonsin your life but I already tell my kids I’ll always love them and they can always come home, leave your doors open with cobwebs of love waiting there
18.
The Bicycle Removal Firm ©
By
Michael Casey
Today’s blog is inspired by what I saw through the window.And what did I see? Well you may have all seen The Quiet Man with John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara. In it a spare bike is “carried” by somebody already riding one. It no doubt takes great skill.
It wasn’t that I saw but something much more intriguing, I say a man on a bike carrying a mirror under his arm. Not the newspaper, but a real mirror, a 3.5foot one under his right arm. He also had it mirror side out, so no doubt several car drivers would have been dazzled.
Later on as I sat here at the computer I saw him again, this time he had an ironing board under his arm, at least the legs weren’t sticking out. He just pedalled past. I was wondering what would happened next. I was thinking it was nearly time to collect the girls from school when he came walking past carrying a heavy bundle on his shoulder.
As we walked home I told my girls what I’d noticed, I always try and teach them to be observant, such as seeing the new trendy sign over the help the aged charity shop today. And as we walked home why the policeman had got out of the panda car near the bank, to go to the cash point and then go to Subway for his sandwich.
I explained to my girls that the man on the bike must be moving house, but he didn’t have a car so he was DIY moving with the aid of a bike. My mother once put on all her clothes and then walked home to Cromane Kerry because she had no suitcase so she wore everything. Her mum had belted her for her stupidity, this would be in the 1930s. I encouraged my daughter to use the bike man as a story for her next English lesson, she said it was not her style. Then as we closed the front door, who did we see? The man on his bike with a mixing desk under his arm, my daughter laughed, but her little sister had the last laugh, she’d found the chocolate biscuits.
So what can I say, I hope that if ever we move house, if ever I sell my 3 books then I hope we can at least have a van to transport our things. Or perhaps I could self upgrade from a bicycle removal service to a bus removal service, I do have a bus pass after all.
http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
19. What is Prayer ? What is Love? ©
By
Michael Casey
What is Faith? We are told in one Bible passage that if a man can do many things yet there is no Love then man has achieved nothing. I remember this being read at grammar school at the morning assembly. . Sorry if I cannot quote it verbatim. I’d come home from work and my dad would be sitting down in the living room his dinner on a chair so he could watch the news,he’d have the first bite raised to his mouth. I’m not hungry he’d say and offer me his dinner. This is love. Another time, another shift pattern. I’d come home at 11p. Dad would wait up to see me before he’d go to bed, he’d be up at 5am for his work the next morning. This is the standard I’m used to, I’ll do the same for my own children. Its normal, it’s obvious. To me anyway.My mother used to watch Dallas on tv after she’d fed all her children, one hand in her apron as she watched tv. Only the hand always jumped in her pocket, she was saying the rosary while she watched tv. Very Irish,very motherly. Very normal, the standard I got used to. Countless mothers the world over do the same. They may be Christians, they may be of a multitude of different Faiths, yet one thing in common. Love, love of God, love of family, love of children . And do we thank our parents for this love? If we didn’t and now our parents our gone, then do we live with regret all our lives . No, this would be folly. We can thank our parents and our God by being good parents, by trying to copy the good example shown to us . I met my wife in the retirement home where my dad lived after his near fatal heart attack, which happened 8 bare weeks after my mother died in her sleep. My dad lived long enough for me to meet/marry and have a granddaughter. As I gaze on my daughter’s face I often say “thank you”. Thank You to God for allowing me a wife and for having a daughter. An extremely beautiful daughter,healthy and funny. I have to show the moon to my daughter because she thinks its so pretty, she loves stars too , not yet 22months old and she knows the wonder of creation . As I look upwards and see the cold beauty of space I know how lucky I am. I know how lucky I am. Lucky enough to cry, which I do on occasions. My tears are my humble thanks and praise of God. I have a family. July 96, mom was gone 2 months, and dad was now given 1 week to live. So after 3years of constant visits to the seniors home I met my wife, my Shanghai China. So yes I cry in the dark of the night as I look up at the stars . I am a lucky man, because I had good parents, I know I did . I hope everybody could be as lucky as me …..
well I hope this reads ok , I couldn’t think of any poetry , I just hope telling it plain catches the spirit , the spirit of love . One word, one look, one sigh, one flicker of the eyes, each of these is a prayer, a deep prayer . A prayer of hope, pray, hope and don’t worry is a motto I try to live by that’s all the advice I can give
20. My New Computer Part 2
A new home computer is an event. You think how quick it will be. You prepare by backing up your files, but you have so many of them. Then you have email accounts and favourite sites and so forth. You think you’ve thought of everything but you haven’t. BUT you do have a safety net, you’ve emailed your important files to yourself, in fact you have a couple of email accounts so your stuff can be safe. Only you forget the passwords.
I’m sure we’ve all done it. Luckily the nice folks at Google can help. But then there is GMX can they fix it too?
Then you get 60 day trial of software from Norton which features an online backup, so your files are safe on a server in the USA.
So I had loaded our family photos to the new PC and then deleted them from the memory stick thing.
So that was ok, only I then lost them from the new PC. So I have to rely on Norton, only there’s a glitch, I can see my files on their Server but I cannot restore them to my PC. It may just be I need to click somewhere I cannot see. So I send an email to Norton, thats a couple of hours ago, but I’m sure those guys are just as nice as Google.
Have I learnt my lesson. Yes, buy 2 memory sticks and don’t delete anything.
Footnote I first used a computer back in 1978, DEC PDP 1170s but then computers were as big as washing machines and dealt in megabites and tape decks were as big as wardrobes.
p.s.Windows7 is fab and the lads at Comet are very very professional
21. How to Teach a Nine Year Old Long Division ©
By
Michael Casey
Well my daughter only has 2 more years in primary school, year 5 is what they call it. So my Shanghai wife is pushing her to learn maths, 11plus beckons next year.
I remember I was called the “Ready Reconner” by the lady in the butcher’s shop, Marsh and Baxters. The shop had a variety of changes over the past 45 years but now it is once more a butchers, a halal one. I was 8 or younger at the time me and my mum would go to the butchers and buy the meat for the 8 of us, sawdust was on the floor in those days. The lady in the shop would write down all the separate items on a piece of paper using her pencil. Then she’d try to add them up, remember it was pounds shillings and pence in those days. 12 pence to a shilling, and 20 shilling to the pound, 240 pence in one pound. If you did not know your 12 times tables then you’d be lost. Mr Gallagher my old school teacher threatened us for months with a times table test. He sprung it on us and the result was 4 of the best, a pump on my bum. The next time he tested us I was perfect. So with a stinging bum as a reminder I was red hot as far at times tables and sums were concerned. Hence I was the ready reconner
We always paid the right price for our meat, the tills were huge monsters in those days with big symbols appearing in a glass window, watch Ronnie Barker in Open All Hours and you’ll see one.
Now how do you teach division to a 9 year old. Well my wife starts in Shanghai dialect, then I interrupt in English giving a metaphor or two, upside down stair is how I explain. Then we jump on Utube and you get lessons galore, 360 maths lessons is what I hear. Though its American so is Math lessons, I was boasting as they explained long division that I had shown our daughter the correct way, but Utube had another set in the upside down steps, by basically I was right. I then reassured our daughter if she did 100 examples then she’d get it. If you know how to multiply then you know how to divide. More encouragement is given in Shanghai dialect. As for our daughter she heads for her room and Galaxy on her DAB radio, perhaps if she counts the stars in the Galaxy then she’ll have her head for maths.
22. Mickey Mouse Degrees
Three of my family went toUniversity, and it was called University then not Uni. They worked very hard to get there. Me I went to work and later discovered the OU, after I discovered I could write.
I also spent 3years
at a 4star deluxe business hotel. So I’m thinking should I set myself up as a tutor and teach “Car park cleaning and security patrolling a combined course” or “Concierge skills with smile techniques” or “Housekeeping with combined Laundry services” “Reception skills with added Switchboard techniques”. I was a close runner up as Employee Of The Year so I could charge more.Perhaps I could teach “Acceptance of Rejection, a multi discipline course for Writers and Playwright and Poets”
I’d just love for somebody to take me under their wing and give me a grant, I’ve written a comic novel The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, I’ve written a play that will be a hit, Shoplife is its name and its very topical, its about a store about to close. I’ve got another book called Essays and Plays which is just that. Finally Tears For A Butcher is my 3rd book which I’m still writing.I did try and get a grant from the Rockefeller Foundation but no joy,perhaps I’m too old or too working class. Perhaps I should try Getty Foundation, who knows, I do know my play Shoplife could be turned on its head to teach Customer Service, all I need is a Dragon, I did try that too but no luck.
Perhaps I should go on the X files and read a few poems or speed read from my book, like the Reduced Shakespeare Company. I did meet thousands of people while I worked at a hotel and many were amused by my Tales. Tales from Old Forge and Singing Anvil http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com is where my stuff lives in cyber space. I am no Blacksmith like my father but I always followed his maxim “Do what you like, BUT do your best.”
23. My Mouse is drunk ©
By
Michael Casey
Well my mouse is drunk, I did see the warning signs and I hoped and prayed that it would get back to the straight and narrow, but it did not. The mouse is a drunkard and that’s all there is to it, its not that I live in a windmill with the sails producing electricity for our home our windmill home. It would have been just fine if the mouse wore cloggs and did a bit of break dancing. Living in a windmill would be fun too.
I am of course talking about a computer mouse, not any Nick Park creation. Our computer was waving goodbye as you can see by my previous post, but now the mouse was joining the strike in sympathy, all for one and one for all.
Can you remember the last time you were on a double decker bus up stairs and drunk?I can remember being on the Metro in Paris Feb 1998 drunk and very happy, but that’s another story. So picture that in your mind and that’s just how my mouse is behaving. Scrolling and jumping and highlighting galore, could be like a scene from an old film, Easy Rider perhaps, and yes I remember seeing that at the cinema, 2pound a week pocket money so I could go to the cinema at the Grove.You think you can master a silly little mouse but you cannot, its like a jockey verses a giant, the jockey is wiry and nimble so its very hard to catch him and lay a punch on him. Exactly how it is between me and my mouse. I was trying to do a few things before the new needed replacement computer arrived, but it was a battle of wills and the mouse, the computer mouse was winning. I need to renew my house insurance so I thought I could do this online. I had rung up my existing insurance company and they immediately offered a 40% discount! But it was still cheaper to change so I had been looking online, but with the mouse playing up it was like being in an Irish Pub on Saint Patrick’s day, one giant jelly mass of people, me and the mouse were just like that. Finally I had to give up I was getting seasick. 4 of us use this computer and the mouse has been battered for years, so now it was time to put it out of its misery, the only decision was whether to bury the mouse in an old shoe box or just cut off its tale and give it to the with. kids to play
24. We are having a baby ©
By
Michael Casey
We are having a baby, after much though and heartache we have decided to have a baby, it will be our 3rd. Now in Google search that’ll be condensed so everybody will be mislead until they click and read the full version. Yes we are having a baby, and yes it will be our 3rd, but not a baby baby, which would indeed be our 3rd. No we are not trying for a boy after having two girls, we are just having a 3rd baby, I mentioned it to my eldest daughter on my way back with a coffee in my hand, she said it wouldn’t be a 3rd baby, it would be a 4th baby, or even a 5th baby. You see we had a new Tv after ours gave up the ghost after 16 years, so the new Toshiba was a baby, and our new noisy whistling kettle was a baby too. What I’m really saying is that our computer has reached the age when it should be replaced. The baby I’m on about is a new Emachine computer, a baby computer because it should be so much smaller than the original one from over 7 years ago. Best of all it was on offer, 200 off. If it wasn’t on offer it would have stayed in the shop, but we really need our computer so thankfully a cheap one has popped up to save the day.
As for our current Emachine that’ll find a new home with somebody who had our last old baby, a tradition is forming, he has our old cache which saves him cash. Its nice if you can recycle things, and I’m sure our friend will spruce it up to make it better than we had it. I know somebody who has a computer who has never done a disc cleanup, but that’s another story. As for us I now have to backup our old files, can you imagine how many 1000 photos you take when you have a young children; you have to send them to grandma in Shanghai and friends in Toyko and Taiwan and Singapore, and the most exotic Stourbridge and Reading and Frankfurt. You do have some on the family website but now as change is in the air you must backup everything, you cannot lose your children’s childhood snaps.
Yesterday I looked at USB sticks they can be pretty expensive, finally I worked out how much stuff we just had to backup and move. Play.com turned out to have the best offer for 16gig flash security. Lets hope it’s a simple as I think it is to back things up, I have 14gig of stuff to backup. As you can imagine I have to keep my other babies safe, my stories my writing, which are dreams in themselves. I had them on floppy discs scattered all around my house. I do have my site www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com so my “masterpieces” will survive fire and floor and even nuclear war as the are on a server on a different continent. However I still need them on my new baby computer my new Emachine, so my 16gig flash storage will have a mission. There is one thing to remember though I remember somebody saying if you don’t dismount/unload you media properly then you lose what’s on the flash media. Well I’ll find out about that soon enough, Wednesday will be my security day.
Then once everything is safely loaded I can breath a sigh of relief. But what else do you have to do once you have your new baby, your new computer. Get connected to the Internet, without being swamped by viruses because you forgot to get an anti virus program. Set up accounts on the computer, I have my side and my wife has her side. With a Shanghai wife though I get stray Chinese characters appearing on our current computer, and strange things have happened. So I need to keep a clear head while I get things as I want them to be, however give it a fortnight and China will have invaded my side of the computer and stolen all the duvet. I still dream of having my books in Waterstones and sold as Ebooks for all these new devices, but most of all I want a computer just for me!
25.
Where do the tears go when they are shed©
By
Michael Casey
Where do the tears go when they are shedWhile I lie here crying on my bedDo the tears drip drip away and seep thoughThe floorboards and head for the sea.Do my tears join an ocean that rises and fallsDo the tears yell and scream but only sea farersHear them, do whales moan as they crash through themOnly whales know of my distress as my tears groanIn deep deep oceans in the unknown dark deep seas.
Do my tears head north to the North Pole and SantaDoes Santa Ho Ho Ho so much because he is trying to drown outThe cries and sobs and tears held back for so many years.Do tears form ice shelves and become icebergs, silent and majesticLike giant cathedrals of ice. Is this the way to silent the voice of tears.Frozen in Time for 100s of years, the fears of today and yesterday are mergedAs one, gagged for eternity in an ice cathedral.Will everything be forgot, deep freezed, quick frozen like garden peas.
Do my tears evaporate and head for the sky, joining the clouds as they pass by.Are my tears blown this way and that, are they taken far away over the ocean.As planes pass through the clouds that are my tears, can the passengers hearCan the passengers hear my tears, all my hopes and fears, or are my tearsDrowned out by the in flight movie, 007 killing my prayers to heaven.
Do my tears wash away my pain, my guilt, are they like mothers’ milk?For tears touch us all, they are like a morning mist that shrouds us.For tears are the dark dark night of the soul, a cold coat that covers us.In the morning we remember we fell asleep crying, but what of now?Now we’ve looked at our dead mum’s photo and think of what she would have said.We smile as we remember, her fight, her love, her spirit, her smile.But never tears, she shed no tears for us, she shed no tears for us.Tears will come, tears will come again, but they are just water, we are strongerThan mere water, we have a boat and that boat is Love.
****Well I dug this out from my PC I wrote it a year ago…Michael
26. From A to B or From Sat Nav to Blocked Sink
Well I hope you are all fine this morning. For us the Sat Nav debate continues.
In the old days a Black Taxi would not be seen using an AtoZ, it was beneath his dignity. He’d done the Knowledge and it was all up there in his head. Jack Rozenthal wrote a great play about it, was it 30years ago? Maureen Lipman was his real wife.
Delivery drivers have and egg and bacon butty in one hand dripping egg on to the AtoZ in their other hand while they try and deliver a chest of drawers, with 5 days growth of beard for good measure.
Bus drivers know their route, so once they’ve done it a while its automatic, they know what they are doing. All they have to do is put up with kids trying to use a 3 day old ticket, and not get too high from all the cannabis on the bus. Or remember when they have switched routes because that can lead to strange directions.
Door to door salesmen all those years ago, with the rap at tat tat on the back door had their route carrying the suitcase with samples in. I can vaguely remember one at our back door did my mum buy a clothes brush? But that must be 45 years ago.
So basically we all know what we want and where we are going. Going further back they say people only knew a six block radius around their home. Going to War changed all that as did radio and then more importantly tv. Tv being our eyes on the world, previous to that only Merchant Seaman knew of the world. My own granddad was a merchant seaman, I sometimes wonder did he ever get to Shanghai
Or was it me, his grandson who got there first. Had he visited at the turn of the 19th/20th Century 100years and more ago.
Which brings us back to Sat Nav. Me I use a bus which is fine apart from the pot heads who sit next to you on the bus and all I want to do is puke. My wife is a car driver, so she and our girls love the car. But my wife has borrowed a Sat Nav and likes the ease of it so now she wants one of her own. The result is that I’m being nagged to provide one. You pay, me pay, yes you pay, why me pay, because you are the husband so you pay, no way me pay, you pay you pay yourself, I say. And on the ding dong, sing song goes. Which is the fun part. Me I no pay, use computer I say. You can get perfect directions off the computer all you then have to do is print them off, if our printer was still working we’d be doing that. So really all the wife has to do is copy them down, in English.
She’s busy with the wok as I talk to you, she’s compromised now, she only wants me to pay half. So I say I’ll be doubly generous and double the share I won’t pay, I’ll pay zero and she can pay 100%. That’s the true spirit of negotiation, now I have another thing to resolve, she’s blocked the sink, so pardon me now as I take the plunge, or rather take the plunger to the sink, no need to use a Sat Nav to get there, its over my shoulder in the next room, just turn left at the tv and go straight on to the sound of bubbles. Love is everywhere don’t you know it, just find it, no Sat Nav required.
27.
Read My Mind ©
By
Michael Casey
I just read in the Sunday paper that soon they’ll be able to read my mind, everybody’s mind. A computer firm is scanning brains so that in future you can control your computer with just a thought.
“Where do you do to my lovely when you’re alone and in your bed, tell me the thoughts that surround you” as Peter Sarstead sung in the old and very good song.*
Now the song was a great song, perhaps they’ll play it on Magic again soon.
But our thoughts are private like the sunglasses of our mind. They ring fence our brain and keep strangers out, they hide our boredom when at Company events, the same speech and the same director laughing at his own jokes while as one we all think “what a plonker”. A whole hall wishing he’d stop so we could get on with the entertainment, free bar and circus.
Politicians lie, we all think they do, and if we could read their minds we’d all throw cabbages at them, or eggs or just manifestos. We heard what Gordon really though of that lady and it helped lose the Election for him. Then the apology shambles, you cann’t take back something like that. If somebody could read Gordon’s mind they would have dived in to save him before he even said it. Politicians need to be clear but they never are. Why have clarity when you can have deniability. Let’s just wish Gordon a good relaxing next 5 years.
But what of you and what of me. You see a girl, you see a boy, you’ve got your shades on, you take a good hard look, the object of your attention cannot see your eyes, you try and look cool and not move your head an inch. But you lust after him, you lust after her. Choose your own words as to what you are thinking, or are you lusting. Well they’ll never know because they cannot read your mind. But if they could, they’d be a few slapped faces that’s for sure. Or they’d be a few sudden snogs in doorways and in bus shelters or on the top decks of buses. And all because we can read each other’s minds. Perhaps in the future the gismo to read minds would be attached to your shades, so you’d look cool while they drool.
What about your mum if she could read your mind? She’d be sending you to bed without supper, she’d scream and shout “get out of my house.”
What about old gran and granddad, they’d know what you really think of them. Do you love them or are you just playing along to get their money when they die.
Reading Minds is a dangerous thing, we need protection from ourselves, a stray spoken word can hurt, but luckily our words are locked up in our minds and they can be chosen and picked and used with caution. But if they were there all naked in front of us, no nuances, no clarification then we’d all be in big trouble. I believe we think
4 times faster than we speak, but speech is our filter so that we DO pick the right words, we don’t say the wrong thing. Reading Minds can be dangerous, yes it would be great if you could walk down the road and have all the girls dreaming of you, but what if you were walking down the road and you could heard everybody’s inner voice saying I hate you. What You Don’t Know Cann’t Hurt You, so as far as I’m concerned I’ll Fortune Telling to Gypsies.
*Peter Sarstead copyright
28.
My Daddy’s like Google he knows everything ©
By Michael Casey
My kids were in London today for a day out with my wife and one of her friends. Me I stayed home I’d picked up some bug last night , so I nursed my bug.
The girls were all excited when they came home and my smallest one was telling a story. It began with a box fell from the sky, but it was no ordinary box, it was a magic box. So I told her to keep the idea in her head and she could write it out in the morning, it was late now. Her bigger sister observed that when she wrote she wrote all posh, but when she talked she did not. I then tried to explain the difference between :- speaking, writing, presenting, teaching. Some people may be able to do one but this does not prove/equate to being able to do another. Then my smallest let loose with the line that I was Google and should be a teacher and that I should write kids books. I’ll do anything IF somebody sponsors me, or becomes my patron, though in my case it would be Saint Rita or Saint Jude themselves who’d help. Thinking back to 1969 I did win a Junior Free Handwriting Competition, I have the certificate somewhere, Brook Bond sponsored it, I’d forgotten about it till just now.
Daddy, any daddy has to try and be an encyclopaedia to give his kids some information, in some SciFi film or it may have been in Dr Who I saw a battered Robot became the teacher, with holograms too. If only I could be some sort of magician, then that would be swell as the Americans say, card tricks with lessons on, slight of hand passing messages of learning. I am award that I have to try hard and give good information out, otherwise 1984 becomes a reality, rubbish becomes fact, and facts become rubbish. There are more questions than answers, luckily I’m very eclectic so I can give a base camp answer, then watch as their minds click and you can see from their expression, from the look in their eyes that they understand and they can begin to work things out for themselves or just have a look online. The main thing though is that Daddy, this daddy, me, encourages his girls to use their brains.
The cobwebs may grow IF I didn’t have children asking this and asking that. In a couple of years time my biggest daughter can read my book, it’s a 12 certificate so although she’s seen it she’ll just have to wait for the dubious honour of reading daddy’s The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker.
29. Its Just got to be Winnie The Pooh
Its Just Got to be Winnie The Pooh. My youngest daughter just loves Winnie The Pooh, my wife thinks its because I look like Winnie The Pooh, judge for yourselves.
We have a collection of soft toys tidied away behind the settee, about 40 I think. Every now and then my small daughter lines them up in rows and she’s the teacher. Winnie The Pooh is always 1st in the queue. Then she takes the register and tells the toys to pay attention. Then she reads to them, everything is done in an orderly way. I think she’ll end up a scientist as she’s so organised, my wife did Science back in Shanghai, so its in the genes. Her Chinese grandfather did a bit of writing too, as did her Chinese great uncle, and then there is me http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com , so writing is in the blood too. Does anybody remember Abbott the Physics text book? That just sprung to mind, we were told to read it cover to cover, my brother actually did do that.
So back to Winnie The Pooh, I’m being told that she wants a Winnie The Pooh lunchbox, she just saw it in the Netto leaflet that came through our door. Then another leaflet had a Winnie The Pooh duvet and duvet cover. I did buy her a Winnie The Pooh blow up cushion but that delevoped a slow leak, so I stuffed Winnie the Pooh with a few old pillows, and she was able to continue sitting on it. We have Winnie The Pooh dvds and some old VHS tapes too, and a few days ago we bought her a Winnie The Pooh cutlery set along with a face cloth. So thats just the tip of a big iceberg, she has a white Tigger thats not really Tigger but he does look like a very very pale snow Tigger. When she grows up we will tease her about this. But I know one day a chubby cuddly man will ask my permission to marry her, perhaps his name will be Christopher Robin.
30. The Best Years Of Our Lives ©
ByMichael Casey
They say that the best years of our lives are our schooldays.Maybe its true, but we are all too busy doing the homework, or suffering Latin homework. I can vouch for Latin in Grammar school, it’s a form of torture, but it does help your vocabulary, and it does make you persevere.
I suppose Uni is the best days of your lives too, until you get the bill. And realise that nobody rates a degree any more because everybody has one so the currency is devalued. 3 years experience doing something while you did you degree in film studies. So the experienced one gets the job.
Getting married and setting up home, are they the best years of our lives? Then the first baby and the lack of sleep, learning to catch and throw dirty nappies out the house, just like a wicket keeper.
Finally getting your book published. Getting a few plays on the stage, having a column in The Sun and The Telegraph, would these be the best days of our lives. http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
Or is it the old days, when your life is in part 2, when the grave can be seen in the distance, it may be 50years away but you’ve have the 1st 50 years so you are on the slide to the grave. With experience and love your view of life has changed, you have a young family, but you know how to love them. You can feel it in the air, you can see it in the garden, you can hear the children’s laughter, you can enjoy a glass or two, but you are at Peace, that’s when you have reached The Best Days Of Your Life.
31. Let My Tears Be My Words (c) by Michael Casey
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
End
p.s.
**** I hope you enjoy my poetry, there’s more at http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
Poems are like butterflies there appear from nowhere and flutter by, we are amazed by their beauty then they are gone. This one came to me about 2 years ago when I was hiding in St Phillips cathedral during my lunch break. I got the 1st couple of lines. Once home I sat in my old big blue chair in front of the computer and then worked out the rest. You can see a photo on my site. I have now updated the old chair, all I need is a new computer.
32. The Lambs have gone its Silent
The Lambs have gone its Silent, my girls are in London today, my wife took them there. So I’m home alone, and its so silent.
“Dad, what does xyz mean” asks my big daughter, but she’s not here,
I explain and tell her to use one of the dictionaries we have. I want her to be able to find out answers herself. When you explain things you find that you try and be so exact so that you don’t confuse your kids. It probably makes me think more clearly too.
This morning my smallest girl put a Tamagatu purple cat on the desk, she said it would keep me company while they were away. Its still on the desk besides me as I talk to you. My old copy of Don Camillo’s Dilemma is there too, I’ve read 50pages just 200 more to go, then its Don Camillo meets the Hells Angels, then I’m done, 6 books all about a Catholic priest and a Communist Lord Mayor. The stories were 1st written over 50 years ago, I know no Italian so I read them in English translation. I was actually going to learn Italian several years ago, only I got distracted by this Shanghai girl, I married her, you can see some photos of us all on this site, we were at a wedding a few days ago. I’m the George Clooney look alike in the photos, though my hair looks as though I’ve washed it in DAZ. Our 2 girls are there too, along with the wife, not forgetting the Bride and Groom. As for Italian, I put the books in an old holdall and put that under my bed, years later my nephew was learning Italian, so I donated everything to him.
You could hear a pin drop in the house, its so silent, and yes I hate it. All I have is the pain from tearing down the fence, its sharp and makes me wince a bit, but aren’t we all stupid sometimes, or is it just me who’s cornered the market. I look to my right and can hear the clock ticking, its a battery powered but still I can hear it. No small girls running about in the room above me. No Blick DAB radio blaring out Galaxy on their radio above. The clock in the living room strikes nine, my girls should be getting on the train home now. London Euston to Birmingham, 28pounds for the 3 of them with Virgin trains, see the offers for yourself. I can hear the boiler click into action, heating the water for baths on their return. The computer hums in front of me, just by my knee. I hope I win the HP Envy 17 laptop in this weeks Sun’s competitions, our computer is 7 years old and freezes a lot. The irony is I joined the MySUN site so I could enter the competitions, and then I stumbled into putting my blogs here on MySun. The sound of the keyboard echoes around our empty house.
I jump in my seat, the telephone has just exploded, my wife has just rung to say they missed the train. Only she was teasing, I can hear our kids in the background on the train. So all is well, but too too quiet. I know one thing I could never live alone. Tomorrow the kids will want Tux Paint on the computer, or want to use the Graphic Tablet on the computer. There will be noise galore, a family noise, the noise I prayed for all those years ago.
Cheerio from Birmingham and London Euston
http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
33. Take my Fence Away ©
By
Michael Casey
Well just for something different today I took my fence away. The day had started noisily when a courier nearly knocked my door down, and it wasn’t even my parcel.So wishing him well I closed my door. Half an hour later a polite knocker knocked at my door. “Sorry for disturbing you” he began “yes you are disturbing me” I finished as I closed the door. I don’t know about you but I just wish cold callers didn’t bother. Or they all got a disease and took the Junk Email writers with them, a kind of modern plague, where the skeletons decayed over computers. But perhaps I’m being too mean today.
As for my fence, we have a rickety old one on one side next to the entry, its parallel supports with boards nailed alternately on the inside and on the outside. However with age it’s developed a stoop, or backward lunge, a kind of limbo dancing look.The alley is kind of blocked because of this, but nobody uses it but me, however I decided it was getting dangerous, so the fence had to go. Just in case. So I leant on the fence and it creaked and groaned, not unless that was my back. 3 sections gave way, the supporting posts had had it for years. Then all I had to do was saw the last bit away. Only I don’t have a saw, but I do have a metal saw ,or rather just the blade which was part of the tools I inherited 30 years ago. They gather dust mainly as I am not a DIY kind of person. I can work out what needs to be done, but as for doing it, I leave that to the experts. I once tried painting a wall, only it took gallons of paint, the wall was covered in a wallpaper that was just like carpet, so it just soaked up the paint, a bit like painting a bear I suppose, not that I’ve ever tried painting a bear.
But back to the fence, finally I’d sawn away the last support and I had a kind of woodern ladder in my entry. All I had to do was heave it to the rubbish area at the bottom of my garden. I had to jump up and down to break it up, I had to be very careful too as there were 6 inch nails all over it. Rusty nails but still dangerous, apart from the one I nearly stabbed my chest with, everybody must have done similar such things. Did I ever tell you when I painted my bathroom. It’s on my site somewherewww.michaelgcasey.multiply.com Michael’s Bathroom. But back to the fence, I was triumphant when I was finished, then the washing line broke, my bright orange Polo top with a polo scene on it went sailing to the ground along with my jeans. Another task for me.
Over the road in the hardware store I got a plastic washing line, £4.50 I was robbed.I also bought some green twine, £1.60, I had an idea you see. Once home I got my biggest daughter to hold the end while I tied it to the tree and then to the peg in the wall. I didn’t realise just how long 20m is, so I was able to have 2 new plastic washing lines. This is good in the long run as I live with 3 girls, if only I had another bathroom, but I need a lottery win before that happens, or Rupert Murdoch sees this and gives me a job. Hold on a second while I watch a pig fly past.
So now I had a new washing line, all I needed was a new fence. That’s where the twine comes in. I called my girls outside, together we ran up and down the yard tying the twine to what was left of the supporting posts. A kind of net, a bit like the net at Wimbledon was formed. Straight lines then vertical lines in between, plus some coloured paper to make it more attractive. My big daughter has done crochet at school so she was well pleased with her efforts. My wife said it looked like prison bars but she just has no imagination said me and the girls. We hope small birds will rest on the top line and sing to us. It was a fun hour or so, apart from the twinge in my back, the fence was heavy after all. I forgot one thing, I wanted to teach the girls about Gravity, so I shook the Apple Tree at the bottom of the garden and they watched the apples fall, Newton remembered. Then they gathered a few apples and pretended to cook them, the apples were bobbing in a container, Archimedes came to mind so I mentioned him to them. All in all an educational Summers Day.
p.s. The girls are in London Wednesday 28th, so if you spot them say hello, but don’t frighten them, I’ll be home in Birmingham hoping my back’s fine
34. So hypnotize me
So hypnotize me
I was just picking up the kids from the school on the hill, I overheard a mum saying that her son was thinking of doing Hypnotism as a subject for part of his University course. It made me think about what kind of world we’d be if we could use hypnotism to iron out the rough spots. If we could use it to make us all shiny and new all the time. It made me think of Scifi films, from Logan’s Run to Matrix, the perfect world.
So what if it was just weight loss, or fear of animals that was hypnotized away. You used to be able to listen to a tape while you slept and then hey presto in the morning you could speak Chinese.That’d be good in our house as my wife is a Shanghai girl and our girls speak Chinese with her while I’m trying to write here at the computer.
Learning piano via hypnotism would be good too, my small daughter is now trying out the guitar after playing on the piano for 30mins. We saved up for years to buy the piano and then my brother gave us a child size guitar which he’d picked up cheap in The Works. My girl is making up a song now behind me as I talk to you, its hard trying to type when you’re trying not to laugh, try it for yourself.
Now hypnotists use a watch to hypnotize, so that’d interest me straight away, just the watch. I have a Russian KGB officer automatic at present, if you’re read The Watch and Me you’ll know about me and watches. When I have some money I hope to buy an Oris watch, but it will have to be a strong one. So there I am being hypnotized to learn after dinner speaking, I’d really love to get on that circuit, however I don’t know any Freemasons. I’m being hypnotized when I realize the hypnotist has a lovely Omega, so what happens. My love of watches overrules the hypnotist, I escape with his Omega and the hypnotist is found staring at the clock at New Street Station, he’s mumbling just look into my eyes, look into my eyes. I’m sent back to the hypnotist, he’s very famous, he has a Cartier Bleu watch, he just gives it to me, everything becomes a blur.In the morning I wake up in bed speaking Chinese and giving an after dinner speech, on one wrist is an Omega, on the other is a Cartier Bleu. As for the hypnotist he’s found on the no8 bus going around and around Birmingham, on his wrist is my Russian KGB officer watch, and guess what, he’s speaking Russian.
Das Vidanya Everybody, Michael http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
35. Pizza and Rice
Pizza and Rice
I wouldn’t say I have a love affair with frozen food, say pizza, nor that I like my bacon sandwiches so much. Its just that I used to work such odd hours. Getting home at 9pm doesn’t encourage you to get Delia’s book out and be creative. You just want something quick, as its 6 hours or so since your late lunch at 3pm. It may even be nearly 10pm when you get home, after doing a workfavour for somebody. So now your stomach does think that your throat has been cut, it rumbles away as you sit on the bus, other passengers think its the deep base of somebody’s personal stereo. Once home its flick Sky on grab dinner from the freezer, in 10 minutes time the dinnertime Pizza is ready, washed down by two mugs of milky coffee. If Delia has got 1/2 a page left to fill she could just squeeze it into one of her books.
Time moves on and I’m married and we have two little girls. Rice is on the menu daily, you need a degree in Oriental Languages to know whats in the fridge. I have a Shanghai wife who really can cook. Chopsticks make an appearance, as does the spoon shovelling techniques for eating. I can come home to find movement in the kitchen sink, its alive and will soon be dinner, its a crab. Fish is being cooked too, the rice cooker is on, you would not believe just how fluffy and nice rice can be. Before Shanghai, I’d have scoffed at the idea of rice being so different, Ambrosia creamed rice from a tin was the height of my experience, now I scoff nice rice. My wife goes to the Korean shop to buy the rice as it tastes so good. We are lucky we have a huge Ying Yip down the road a few miles too. Once dinner is ready there are 3 or 5 dishes on the table, Phoenix is of the TV too. I think my wife only came around to my house in the first place all those years ago because I had Chinese tv, either that or she really loved my frozen pizza. Ocassionally there are prawn crackers on offer, you really have to be quick to make these or you’ll burn them and yourself.
My dad used to have a bowl of corn flakes as a snack before bedtime if he was peckish, I do the same. Cereals tend to be my breakfast too as they are so quick and easy to make, well they make themselves. My wife likes snacks too, but they can seem tasteless to a Western tongue. However biscuits and cakes from Sainsbury’s are a delight for her, if I search hard enough I can find them, our girls love them too. You have to understand if you follow the Eastern diet then you are very slim, both of my girls are slim and tall, so to fall of the Eastern diet is a treat. Going to the chip shop for them is a bit of a wonder, they get “takeaway” every day at home, so chips is a treat. As for me my diet has improved as I have the left overs, though I still weigh 3 times more than my size 0 wife. As for me and Delia, we do have one thing in common, and I don’t mean our love of food, Delia and Me are catholics.
36. Family Traits
I was thinking about what to talk about today, as I need to practice my writing skills, Eric Clapton once said in an interview that if you don’t practice you could lose your gifts, so practice. So this is what I’m thinking about today.
Our kids, all of our kids inherit things from their parents. Beauty or lack of it, freckles and red hair or not. Being a bonnie baby or not, being quiet or not. Our first daughter was very quiet and did not wake us up in the night. However the 2nd one was the opposite, if she was the 1st one then maybe we wouldn’t have bothered with a 2nd. Ask your own friends for their experiences. Our 1st one was born in the early hours, I got home at 3am and had to explain to my Shanghai mother in law that it was a daughter. A week previously I had been to my brother’s house where we loaded up an estate car, Steve from Steve’s takeaway had helped. My brother had saved everything from his kids and now he passed it on to me.Then once home me and the mother in law had constructed the cot, without any common language between us, it took 1.5hours. Today it would take 1/2 that time as the mother in law understands a lot more English and I’m much better at contructing flat packs.
Our 1st girl was born almost on Padre Pio’s own Birthday, he being the Saint who’d started the ball rolling so to speak. Our daughter was big, like me I suppose. But she has perfect Chinese hair, the kind of hair girls would kill for. Look at the photos here and judge for yourself. Apart from that I suppose she looks very Western.
The thing you learn very fast when you have a baby is how to change nappies and get them and their smell out the house. You save all the plastic bags from shopping, and its a bit like wicket keeping, a catch and a throw and out the door. Ask any cricketers if nappy changing is as I’ve explained. I’m sure they’ll agree.
As children grow then traits appear. Our 2nd child is very funny. Before she was born she was in Shanghai and her granddad was making my wife laugh. A child in the womb can hear, so our daughter would have heard all the laughter, as did her born sister. I think my wife was 8 months pregnant when she returned home. I can remember waiting at Heathrow after they’d had 2 months in Shanghai. My daughter was sitting on the luggage trolley being pushed by grandma, behind was my very pregnant wife. I was crying with happiness. And as the cot was already ready, no 1.5hours of lego like building.
Drawing is a delight for both my girls. My wife can do all fancy stuff, Caligraphy and Chinese letters etc. She even used to go drawing of some sort for the Police in Shanghai. One of my brothers is good too. So drawing is in both sides of the gene pool.
As kids grow the family features show. My big daughter looks like me when I was her age, its like Dr Who in a way, she is my past and I am her future, its a bit spooky as the resemblance is so very strong. My other daughter apparantly looks exactly like my wife when she was young though she is Western looking. So Nature has given each of us, a clone so to speak. Our youngest also has the fantasic hair too. You’d have to do some market research amongst your friends to see if all of them rate hair as the best thing to have. So long as neither of them go white early like me.
37. Dress Sense
Do men have any dress sense? Walk down your local street and see what you can see. Me I’ve not worn a shirt for a year. I prefer rugby shirts, even though its decades since I was dangerous on a rugby field. Rugby shirts can be pulled on and pulled off and thrown in the washing machine. I have a bright orange one with a polo scene on it, in fact I have 3 exactly the same. I bought then in Sawgrass Mills Florida which is the biggest shopping mall in Florida. There was a sale on when I was there so I ended up buying 3. At my size you take your bargains when they come. As for shoes, are black shoes only for the office and interviews. Personally I like comfy shoes, brown ones too. I always buy 2 pairs together in the 1/2 price sale. I suppose I could be related to Ken Clarke such is my choice of shoes. When I used to wear shirt and ties I always wore bright colours, reds or yellows, thats the ties not the shirts. Boring white or blue shirts were my choice. Never buy a non iron shirt because they always DO need ironing and they are impossible to iron and end up looking like a dried out prune. And don’t forget to comb your hair and brush and dandruff off. The worse thing in the world is dandruff on your shoulders. Moving on, trousers should always be comfortable, if you bend down to tie your shoelaces and you hear a ripping noise that means the trousers were too tight. Only John Travalta can look cool in tight trousers. So be honest with yourself, if you look like Shrek in a suit then CHANGE. Though I have to confess I’ve been told I’m a bit of a Shrek, even though I thought my 18.5 inch neck with a bright red tie hanging from it made me look important. Ah well what can a man do? Well ask your wife could be a good idea, but run for the hills if she says she’ll come shopping with you. You know it’ll mean you’ll end up with 2 new pink shirts, while she buy 20 items she really really needs.
Happy Shopping everybody.
38. Home ©
by
Michael Casey
Home is where the heart is.Homeless is outside a house looking in wishing it were your home.Put into a Home is where due to circumstances a loved one has to be put into care.
As I talk to you this morning I have a drawing on the desk propped up by the computer speakers.It’s a drawing of a girl with all her hair to one side, she has long eyelashes and is carrying a small bag.Besides the biro drawing of the girl is a big heart and some stars, written above is “For Daddy.”I have a notepad on the desk in front of the computer monitor so my girls love leaving drawings.On the side of the fridge is this weeks spelling list, held there by magnets that aunty gave us.On top of the fridge is a fruit bowl full of fruit and sweets.By the fruit bowl is container full of pens and crayons, a shopping list in Mandarin beside it.There are photos of family scattered about the house, in one corner photos of my mum and dad both long gone, but still much loved. When you get to Heaven you’ll see them is what I say to my girls.We found a stilly photo of me so I put it on the shelf next to the huge red Chinese dictionary, the fairy from the Christmas tree is also on that shelf waiting ever patiently for Christmas to return.Behind me is a painting of an angel a Burne Jones copy, blowing a flute thing.Girls shoes are scattered about the house, waiting to trip me up.Behind the sofa in this room are two huge bags of soft toys, waiting to escape.Once my smallest is back home she’ll release the soft toys from their Jail.Then she’ll line them up in rows and sitting on the teddy bear wooden stool she’ll be teacher.All the toys have names and she’ll chide them as together they learn this week’s spellings.Her big sister has her nose in a book, she’s determined to win a prize from the local library for reading the most books. I told her I read everything in the school library when I was young.The sound of chickens comes from the living room LULU, not that lulu, but a chat show queen on Phoenix can be heard. Then my wife is on the phone while she shakes her big wok.I look outside and am pleased to see my sea of shamrock, I transplanted it here many years ago, it nearly died during the harsh Winter we just had but now I have enough for all of Riverdance.I’ll stop there for now.But you can see what I’m on about. A home is a combination of all the things I’ve just talked about.A home is a physical place, but it is much more than that. It’s the little things inside the house that turn it into a home. Such as the Looney Chick toy that I’m using as a cushion, my girls brought it back all the way from Shanghai last year, and now we use it as a cushion.The drawings on the desk in front of me are done with love by my girls.Sharing a pack of Rolos, even though you love them so much, this is home, this is family.In the end, where there is love then there is a home. Without the love even if your home was better than a 5 star hotel, then it really wouldn’t be a home, it would be just a location.For as we all know Home is where the Heart is.
39. The Weather Forecast
In England we have weather, elsewhere they have climate. Which may explain why here in England we are obsessed by the weather and the weather forecast. I know my own wife always demands I change channels so she can decide if she can put the washing out, and what clothes she can wear. I tell her she can press the red button, but that’s no good she wants the live show of the weather.Then she can hang my pants out, and get changed. When I visited Shanghai a decade ago we’d be walking back to her mum’s flat she’d point to the sky and there on the bamboo rods were my pants blowing in the wind. Just like a flag she laughed.
So nothing much has changed, only the location of my pants. Now on an old fashioned washing line in Old Forge and Singing Anvil, then on a bamboo pole 4 flights up in Shanghai, and there were no lifts in her mum’s block of flats, lucky for us we did not have to walk to the 10th floor. Explains why the Chinese are so fit and thin.
But why do we love the weather so much? Because its so variable, so we lust after news of the weather, lust is the correct word too. People go mad when the sun pops out. Where I live its as if there is an alarm, the alarm goes off and suddenly all the men are out on the street of Old Forge and Singing Anvil, with shorts on. Really ugly legs too, me I never wear shorts, though I once met Freddie Garretty from Freddie and the Dreamers. Remember the song? Who wears short shorts, we wear short shorts. Am I really getting old, or do I just have a good memory for trivia. Whatever, where I live men just love getting their legs out. They must have an alarm in their pockets attached to their mobile phone, text message tells them to get their shorts on.
So don’t get burnt everybody and don’t forget the sunscreen.
40. Call Centre Calling
We all just love call centres, we all just love it when they call when we’ve just sat down on the toilet and we’re expecting a call from grandma in Shanghai. So the phone rings and we dash for the Andrex and the sink to wash our hands in. Then still pulling up our pants, we fall down stairs just as Norman Wisdom or Brian Rix would do, then pulling up our pants and doing up our trouser’s belt we pass by the hall mirror and see the black eye we’ve just got. We answer the phone, there is a long long pause, as if the call center guy is having a final drag on his **** before answering, “hi I’m Guy, could I interest you in cable tv, I’ve got such a great package to offer.” his voice oh so so sexy, in his imagination anyway. Has he not heard of Sky, the best package. So we swear in Shanghai dialect, and hang up the phone. Then we notice our trousers are split, the one’s grandma in Shanghai had made for us, the trousers for her Panzi, her Fat Fat Boy son in law.
If only we could get revenge, just like in Bruce Almighty. A bottled water company rings, so we click our fingers and its as if the Dam Busters had breached that dam, a sodden girl will NEVER ring your number again. Then there’s a knock at your door, its the Mormons, you smile and smile, and they start running away, only asking which way is the airport. Why? Well I’ll leave that to your imagination. The phone rings again, so you do heavy breathing, only for a voice at the other end of the phone to say “I’m Sergeant Dixon, would you be interested in joining the neighbourhood watch scheme.” “Sorry Wrong Number is your reply.” You decide to change, you’re half way up the stairs when the phone ring again, you turn and fall down the stairs again. Your wife is just in the door and she answers the phone, she can see you over her shoulder, “I told you you were too fat for those trousers” You trip over again, “bloody call centers is all you can say.”
41. Go to bed with the Japanese
I just read about the Japanese being asked to go to bed early to save energy and the carbon footprint and so forth. I don’t know about you but that’d end in a baby boom in my family. The good old days of 12 children and so forth. Shifts for the bed and the first one up being the best one dressed. With the Japanese perhaps an early whale sandwich on the tube to work. So they’d save the planet but wipe out the whale. More sleep is a good idea, then you have more dreaming opportunities. I have a dream etc. Perhaps with more sleep the Japanese would invent more things. My wife is almost Japanese as are all her relatives and fellow citizens of Shanghai, Shanghai has so much pride they could almost be Japanese. Don’t forget the song too, “I’m turning Japanese,I really think so.” Top of the Pops memories come flooding back. For my own part I’ve discovered the joys of headphones and a personal DAB radio, its great if you don’t want to go to sleep yet. Radio4 Midnight news followed by a bit of Bob Harris or Magic Radio. Sleeping is good but you have to collate your day before you go off to the land of Nod. Then you are in a relaxed state so you really chill with the music. Chill is another DAB station, listen to this and sometimes you could really be in Japan, in one of those sleeping capsules in one of those small hotels. Sleep really is the greatest gift of all, once you have your 1st baby you will really know what I mean. You sleep less when you get older, so I’ve heard, but then you can put the radio on and listen to something, or just read a book while you stay all nice and cosy with the duvet around you. Which brings me to my final thought, if we all used duvets we wouldn’t need to use energy to heat our bedrooms, and did the Japanese invent duvets?
42. My Old Age
I’m called “grandpa” by the teachers when I pick up my kids from school. Because my hair is prematurely white. In a way its a joke, but I am over 40 years older than my kids. I was a late starter, but I do have a young wife, who looks even younger because she’s from the East, Shanghai to be exact. In the East they respect Old Age, so I’m all in favour of that. But as for having a good old age, I think I’ll be dead, I won’t last that long. I’ll have to work to at least 66, and maybe 67. So I’ll be worn out by the time it comes to retire. My dad was a blacksmith and then spent 40years in a steel works, The District Iron and Steel in Brasshouse Lane Smethwick. Has a ring to it don’t you agree? He retired a year or two early when the works was closed down. He had ten golden years with my mum, then mum died, then he had 5 years in an old people’s home, read Padre Pio and Me www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com But he at least had those golden ten years.
My brother was made redundant and now at 60 he’s retired. He can look forward to 20+years of relaxation and learning. Me I’ve got 14 years more to do, if there’s any jobs left. If I could win that lottery, then I’d retire today and write more books. Or if I could get something produced/published then I’d be able to retire. The chances of that happening, probably zero, but strange things have happened, read Literary Criticism on my site. Perhaps the government should start a National Laughter Campaign to cheer us all up, Ken Dodd should be ringmaster. The thought of years of slavery is saddening, perhaps we could start a National Singing Campaign, a kind of whistle while you work, Arthur Askey reincarnated to pass all those extra working years away. We could sing the Song of The Hewbrew Slaves, for that’s what’ll happen, retire at 95 IF we’re still alive, in the year of 2010 If we’re still alive
43. My favourite sweets
My favourite sweets are, now let me stop before I continue. What are your favourite sweets, as you sit in front on the PC, a cup of coffee perched by your screen as you read this instead of doing those oh so interesting Excel reports for the boss. Can you remember back to when you were a child? Or have you never given up on sweets, or are you a parent? Well for me it was always a Cadbury’s Crunch. My brother would sell his very soul for a Rolo, my youngest daughter loves them too, her delight is squashing them until these stick to our glass coffee table, which is also our Chinese eating table. If you look though the living room window you’ll think you’re looking at a restaurant or looking at China. Well you are, Shanghai to be exact, rice with everything. With a diet like that my girls are tall and thin. Thats why they enjoy sweets so much. My big daughter likes Caylie now, if I’ve spelt it right. We all adore a nice bag of crisp, so an Aldi 26 pack does down well. I’m old enough to remember the salt being in a blue bag inside the crisps, and not when they reinvented it 20 years ago, I mean 45 years ago. Pop came in heavy glass bottles which had a penny refund on the bottle, and you could get some chews with the refund. I always used to drink the dregs from the pop bottles before taking the bottles back. My brother who I’d put a red hot poker on his leg, just for fun as kids do. Well my brother peed in a few bottles, to simulate dregs, and yes you’ve guess it, I drank those dregs. Which reminded me of the salt in crisps packets. We had an old fashioned sweet shop just a few yards away from the family house, two ancient sisters with a small husband between them lived there and made bread but in the front room was a sweet shop with all those jars of sweets. They used to say to us children as we left “off ye go, home to your parents. So we called the shop “off ye goes”.
As you grow up your tastes change, and its a nice novelty to rediscover an old fashioned sweet shop. Then the memories come flooding back. I’m lucky in a way because I drunk so much milk it protected my teeth from all the sugar. However I did give up sugar in my coffee when I was 19, just to see if I could. Blokes discover beer and stop having sweets, well until they are parents. As for women its said that a woman would prefer a bar of Cadburys or Galexy instead of a man. Give her a Jackie Collins and chocolate and maybe some Baileys and the whole human race could die. Sobering thought that. But it does give a whole new meaning to “I’m Sweet on You.”
Cheerio from a wet Birmingham, and don’t forget wine/chocolate/beer/Dr Pepper are all best served cold just like revenge, as any Mafia friend may tell you,
44. Praise and Reward
Praise and Reward, its a sticky question. Some things don’t ask for praise or reward. Like if your kids do a small chore for you, they don’t ask for a pound, they are just happy to help you, because they love you. If you are thirsty they’ll fetch you a drink, they won’t charge you for it, they’ll do it instinctively. Just as my daughter did this evening when she watched me decorating, or rather my attempts at decorating, she even sacrificed her fizzy pop for me, she knows how I prefer pop to alcohol. Sometimes I’ll offer a reward and she’ll turn it down. For me this shows I’m bringing her up the same way I was brought up. I know the majority of people reading this will think I’m old fashioned. I do know that her Irish grandparents would be so proud of her if ever they saw her, Irish grandad did hold her in his arms but after 7 months or so he was gone, as for my mum she went early to make the tea.
Encouragement does work and should be used all the time. My youngest daughter just loves Matilda the fillm based on the Roal Dahl book. Why does she love it? Because its funny, and because the little girl does find love with the teacher.The teacher loves and encourages. Just as everybody reading this does love and encourage their own kids, even if at the moment the encouragement is to move out of the way of the tv so all dad’s mates can watch the world cup, and isn’t the garden a great place to be and dad will give you some money for pop from the corner shop If only the kids get out of the way of the tv.
My daugher has joined a sunday choir, so there she is praising God, and she gets rewarded with a few quid for singing.
They do say we all have to sing for our supper, just like Little Tommy Tucker.
45. A Child’s Love
How can I discribe a child’s love? I can speak of myself when I was a child which from the Birth Certificate was a long time ago. Though some may say I’m still a child, others, such as women, all women, say that men never grow up and are always children.
I can remember when I was 10 and I used to sit on the top step of the stairs and we’d have a “social”, me and my mum. I’d tell her all we’d done at school and what had happened, all in quiet a large amount of detail.Then my mum would kiss me goodnight and give me a gentle pat sending me off to bed. There was so much love in my mum, lots and lots, for all her big family, lots of prayer too. I always got an extra ice cream from my dad when we were on holiday in Wales, we seemed to go to Abergele all the time. My dad discovered hamburgers for the 1st and tried 1 then another then another, in the end he had 6, such wonderful memories. I seemed to remember a castle nearby, playing golf with my closest brother, we had 1 club and 1 putter each, this was before Tiger Woods existed. Our parents loved us and we loved them, this was before the Modern Family was invented too. Nobody hated their parents then, nobody dreamed of the Wii and hating your parents because they would not buy you one. Tv was 2 channels and in black and white, everything was black and white, you loved your folks and they loved you.
Now 40 or so years later I’m married and I have two small girls of my own. My Chinese/Irish girls who love me. Having a family when you thought you may not ever marry, and then having 2 beautiful girls, this is very humbling and does make me thank God. The important thing is to make sure when they look in the mirror they don’t fall in love with their reflection. Its what’s inside that matters I always tell them. And you know what? Even at their young age they know that beauty fades and is worthless. A nice smile and a big big heart is what matters, the reflection that you see in the mirror is worthless. Mind you I always tell everybody that I fell in love with my wife because she made me laugh. Nobody believes me, but there are 2 people who know I’m telling it as it is, my 2 daughters know it. I bought a book of Poetry today, from the cheap book shop. There are lots of of illustrations in it, 300 famous poems, including a Children’s poetry section. My biggest daughter loves to draw and she is good, so the idea is to appeal to her eyes and to her ears. It worked, she wanted to take the book to bed with her. I said no as I’m old fashioned and think books should be preserved, not bend and creased, especially if read in bed. However as I write this I think I should have let her. So tomorrow I will allow her to take it to her room. However her smaller sister does love to write on anything and everything. Perhaps I should write a poem about that.
Girls like to be tucked in at night and you have to tell them a story or say prayers with them. Then 10 mins later they’ll come down because they want a drink of milk, and another kiss goodnight. And could I possibly come upstairs and tuck them in again. Then 20mins later they need another drink, so they come down again. Later on, the girls reappear because they need the bathroom, well did have all those drinks. Finally carrying more drinks they disappear up the stairs. This is our Pantomime, a pantomime of Love. I think of my dead parents and I know how they would laugh. And my girls are only here because my dad survived his big heart attack, Hugs and Kisses is what little girls give. I love you 20 is what my small daughter once said, 20 is a big number, so I’m loved that much. I hope everybody reading this is loved 20 too!
46. Spare a Penny for Dad
They say that if you look after the pennies the pounds/dollars will look after themselves. So what should I say if I have a trail of pennies, if I keep on finding pennies all over the place, a kind of trail of pennies. And they are pennies and sometimes dimes, for my daughter has decided to leave American coins all over the place for me to find. We were in Florida in 2006 and we no doubt brought back a few coins. My daughter has found them and thinks its fun to leave them all over the house for me to find. I don’t know if its just a joke, or is she trying to encourage me with this trail of coins. Someday I’ll win some money, or maybe even the lottery and then we can buy a big house and then she can have an arts and crafts room. That would be better than a trail of paint and water up the stairs to her room. It is nice to find the odd American coin, it makes me smile and it reminds me just how much she loves me. Her younger sister has no notion of money, we don’t give her money, we buy her any things she wants so we avoid giving her cash.
Its better to keep children innocent as long as possible, some children demand money and know notes are a lot better/bigger than coins. This always strikes me as taking the innocent away from children, just as saying Santa does not exist is a bad and evil thing to say. Everybody knows Santa is real. Anyway don’t let your children fall in love with money, my youngest doesn’t even know that the brown coins have less value that the silver ones, nor that the gold ones are best of all. I want that to stay that way as long as possible. Streetwise kids are a sad reflection of society, mine will stay safe for as long as possible.
And as for a trail of American coins around the house, they are my big daughter’s joke, for she knows I’m happy to find even one penny, especially as it means she loves me.
Goodnight I have to tuck my children in bed now, and that is better that all the pennies or pounds in the world.
47. Jigsaws in Your Mind
I’m dreaming of a White Christmas makes us all think of Snow and Love and the film with Bing Crosby, not forgetting Family. A few bars of a song and we are away, our minds are somewhere else. Mind you in today’s world its a few drugs, or so called legal highs and the youth of today are away. Their minds turning to mush. Me I like to use my mind and not destroy it. I’ve been thinking about Tears For A Butcher which will be the follow up to The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker. Words, ideas,dreams float by and I sew them together, not with a needle and thread but with imagination. It takes time and a lot of energy to create a jigsaw that is a story which turns into a book. Its like word association, or an old photo thats discovered and brings back memories. We found a photo of me in shorts and wearing glasses I was alongside my tall brother, we were in Oxford visiting my brother at University. An angelpoise lamp was in the photo, the same angelpoise lamp thats sat in a corner of my brother’s house today. Pictures lead to memories and in some cases to more futures, dreaming of the spires of learning, but thats another story and another university. When I write its with passion, I really am taken over by the words, by the thoughts, sometimes its like an avalanche and I’m right in the middle of it. I couldn’t be all clinical and planned and precise. I’m not an architech, I am a dustman, I pick up what I find and use it, I transform it, and If I can be pretentious, it transforms me too. We have a friend who just loves music so I emailed him my best 3 poems and to his surprize he now now thinks I’m a poet, in fact his wife just rung my wife, about some recipe no doubt. Chinese folks are just mad for their food. Anyways with Poems they sneak into my mind and then I sit down with the idea and I finish it off. BUT Poems are in charge of me and now me in charge of them. In Nov 1987 I wrote a poem called The Dead and The Living because I wanted Percy the Undertaker in my novel to be a man of great tenderness, a poet in fact. The idea came to me on a bus as I was on my way to my Sunday shift as a computer operator. I knew then that I would never write anything better than those few lines. However last year I had a line come to me while I was in Saint Phillips Cathedral having a rest and a sit down. The line was Let my Tears be my words. When I got home I sat down and finished the poem with my daughter sat on the edge of my chair. When I finished I realised that I’d just written something better than the Dead and The Living, it had taken 22years. Such is the nature of Poetry. As for my comedy writing I start somewhere and a connection will take me somewhere else, a bit like being a ball in a pinball machine, I get knocked and flipped and nudged until I end up in quite a different place to where I began. It is very tiring. Two hours is like a 12 hour shift, because I’m using all my juices. I have toyed with the idea of writing Tears for A Butcher, in fact the 1st chapter is down on paper and in cyberspace. But I don’t want to commit myself to a year of writing, If I sold some of my other stuff then, or if I had a fan base, then yes. But for the moment no, so I am content to be a windmill in my mind, and yes it really is my favourite song.
48. Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting
Marrying a Shanghai girl brought many changes to my life. The sound of chickens clucking for one, Chinese really does sound like chickens in a hen house, if you listen to the wife talk to her friends over the Internet or on the phone or when a few are around the house.Chickens, chickens,chickens. The Mandarin for it is “quock quock quar” or something like that. Just ask ask your own Chinese friends and they will agree. They’ll also tell you that Panzi my own Chinese nickname means FAT FAT BOY, not a fat boy, but FAT FAT BOY. I finally get married and have a family and I get called Panzi. Weighing 3 times as much as the wife or mother in law, has nothing to do with it, honest I’m a priest you can believe me.
Films brought us together and we still enjoy watching films on tv. If I could afford Sky Films I’d love to have it, and a Sky+ HD box. Our Sky+ box is always filled with films for all the family, Over the Hedge, Bride and Prejudice and all manner of stuff. Occasionally we have to cull the films to make room for more. Sky+ really is a godsend for any family. I was just watching Kung Fu Hussle which had Steven Chow in it. It really was great fun. Lots of Kung Fu action and lots of fun , and I do mean fun.It was in Chinese with the bottom of the screen cut off for the sub titles. I was really laughing, it was on Film4. Chinese Kung Fu films are like ballet and yes beyond belief but great great fun. If you don’t normally watch subtitled films then please take a chance on my review skills. Do watch and laugh along. I won’t tell you anything else about it I don’t want to spoil it. Previously there was another film on the tv, it was called Red Flowers, again in Chinese with subtitles. This was about a nursery and how a child was dumped there, it had no Kung Fu in it, but it was really charming. How they got all the small children to act in it I’ll never know but it was well worth a watch. I was asking my kids just how much Mandarin they each understood, one was busy reading the subtitles while the other seemed to understand a great deal of it. Having 2 languages I hope will pay dividends for my kids. In the future they can bring Crunchies and Dr Pepper to me when I’m retired, they should be able to afford them if them keep their language skills up. Their heart they get from me and their beauty from my wife.
I’ll leave it there for tonight.
49. What is Prayer ? What is Love? ©
By
Michael Casey
What is Faith? We are told in one Bible passage that if a man can do many things yet there is no Love then man has achieved nothing. I remember this being read at grammar school at the morning assembly. . Sorry if I cannot quote it verbatim. I’d come home from work and my dad would be sitting down in the living room his dinner on a chair so he could watch the news,he’d have the first bite raised to his mouth. I’m not hungry he’d say and offer me his dinner. This is love. Another time, another shift pattern. I’d come home at 11p. Dad would wait up to see me before he’d go to bed, he’d be up at 5am for his work the next morning. This is the standard I’m used to, I’ll do the same for my own children. Its normal, it’s obvious. To me anyway.My mother used to watch Dallas on tv after she’d fed all her children, one hand in her apron as she watched tv. Only the hand always jumped in her pocket, she was saying the rosary while she watched tv. Very Irish,very motherly. Very normal, the standard I got used to. Countless mothers the world over do the same. They may be Christians, they may be of a multitude of different Faiths, yet one thing in common. Love, love of God, love of family, love of children . And do we thank our parents for this love? If we didn’t and now our parents our gone, then do we live with regret all our lives . No, this would be folly. We can thank our parents and our God by being good parents, by trying to copy the good example shown to us . I met my wife in the retirement home where my dad lived after his near fatal heart attack, which happened 8 bare weeks after my mother died in her sleep. My dad lived long enough for me to meet/marry and have a granddaughter. As I gaze on my daughter’s face I often say “thank you”. Thank You to God for allowing me a wife and for having a daughter. An extremely beautiful daughter,healthy and funny. I have to show the moon to my daughter because she thinks its so pretty, she loves stars too , not yet 22months old and she knows the wonder of creation . As I look upwards and see the cold beauty of space I know how lucky I am. I know how lucky I am. Lucky enough to cry, which I do on occasions. My tears are my humble thanks and praise of God. I have a family. July 96, mom was gone 2 months, and dad was now given 1 week to live. So after 3years of constant visits to the seniors home I met my wife, my Shanghai China. So yes I cry in the dark of the night as I look up at the stars . I am a lucky man, because I had good parents, I know I did . I hope everybody could be as lucky as me …..
well I hope this reads ok , I couldn’t think of any poetry , I just hope telling it plain catches the spirit , the spirit of love . One word, one look, one sigh, one flicker of the eyes, each of these is a prayer, a deep prayer . A prayer of hope, pray, hope and don’t worry is a motto I try to live by that’s all the advice I can give
michael
50. Singing Songs
To sing is to doubly praise, Saint Cecilia said that. My sister says it too on occasion. Singing makes us all happy, it lightens the load, it helps pass the time, if we are happy we’ll whistle or hum or sing. Just ask any workman, though workmen still like to whistle, or should I say wolf whistle when they see a pretty girl. “Hello Darling” rings out from high up an unfinished building, followed by laughter when the girl turns around and the girl is in fact a boy with a girlish haircut.
But I was talking about singing. My girls were singing “A sailor went to sea, sea sea, to see what he could see see see.” so obviously I jointed in. My youngest was amazed that I knew it,so I told them that that rhyme must be at least 50 years old. So on they sang, doing the hand clapping that accompanies it. It took me back, where have all the years gone, I really hope I can last till 100 then I’d have more time with my girls and any grandchildren or even on great great grandchild. But that’s up to God, the girls Great Grandpa is alive and kicking into his 90s, he’s on his 3rd wife now having worn out the 1st 2, Shanghai diet in a warm China may explain it.
Grandma does sing Jesus songs with the girls over the Internet from Shanghai, and my big daughter has just joined the choir at Saint Hilda’s down road from the woods. Google tells me Hilda was very wise and lived a monastic life. My daughter did an audition and was let into the choir. They even pay a small stipend. My own sister has been singing over 45 years, despite us telling her to shut up. Me and my brothers were altar boys, none of us getting any reward for this church work. Perhaps we should have stopped being Catholics and moonlighted for the Protestants. I was also a reader for 7 years, so I can remember passages from the Bible, as well as hearing them all my life these past 50 years.
Singing songs is very very touching, a song will touch the heart and my sister is right, to sing is to doubly praise. Songs at funerals which open the floodgate, Angels by Robbie Williams is very popular now, it was played at my cousin’s funeral; songs at the last night of the Proms which make you proud and happy. As I talk to you I listening to music, Hotel California from the Eagles, 34 years ago that was out. I never guessed I’d spend 3 years in an hotel. Hotels have music to kill the deadness of an empty foyer/reception area, as do bars. Songs that you can sing too give a place a good vibe. Gay bars play lots of Abba I’m told, again because its great happy music, it helps the fun on a cold Tuesday evening. I’m listening to an old Elton John album now, Made in England, its worth digging out, its from 1995. Classical music and opera touch us too, even when we cannot understand a word. Pavorotti, and that blind Italian singer Andrei Bocelli, both can touch us. I remember in 1966 when the whole family went to Lourdes, we were singing Ave Maria in the darkness, holding up our lighted candles, perhaps 40,000 people singing in the dark. Now that is really touching and uplifting. I suppose other Faiths do things their way which are no doubt just as powerful.
As you have all no doubt gathered through these blogs, I do like my music, a pocket DAB is always close to me, in fact after 5 years its a bit battered, so I have to save up for a replacement. When you’re happy and you know it clap your hands, is a song we sing when we are kids, we are all so free. We sing when we are in the shower, we sing when we are in love.
Song is the Spirit that cannot be broken, we sing to babies in the crib, babies can hear before they are born, its singing that creates love.
So sing, sing, sing. For we are alive.
51. Comedy from Birmingham The Butcher The Baker And The Undertaker
Leap Years Day 1988 introduced :-
The Butcher, The Baker & The Undertaker (c) a comedy drama for everybody set in Old Forge and Singing Anvil a perfect tv series or one off drama depending on your budget——————————————————————————–A novel , plays and humour essays all on my site http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com Now how do I grab your attention I was born in the shadow of Cape Hill Brewery , Smethwick , which is on the side of Birmingham. I ended up working for a market research company into Alcohol Sales , and I was the shandy drinker . Any alcohol and I was off my tree .
The novel also on the site is called The Butcher , The Baker and The Undertaker (c), very tongue in cheek , simultaneously on several levels . An undertaker who becomes an election agent so a dodgy builder becomes a member of Parliament in the constituency of Old Forge and Singing Anvil , (my dad was a blacksmith from County Kerry Eire , yes really).www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker is a comedy drama about a street of shops in Old Forge and Singing Anvil in England . Here’s a flavourWayne buys a derelict pub and his wife is pregnant with twins , things could not be worse , Mrs Murphy comes to the rescue with a loan , and 2 sets of twins the builders work for nothing , God looks down and helps too , Wayne discovers a hidden cellar underneath the cellar , its full of 40year old whisky left over from the war WWII , the pub was where the local black marketeer left everything . Wayne and family are saved .The Undertaker has a feud with the traffic warden for putting a parking ticket on his hearse.On the way there’ a Jazz funeral , a teddy bear called Patrick , a dog called hairy Amjit who has a mind of his own . The Undertaker’s sons leaves the business and Percy is at a loss , his son returns with a Prodigal Son plea for forgiveness , “Father forgive me , I now know that computers are not for me , there is no love in computers , but in our business there is love and compassion .The Undertaker tries to blackmail a bent builder who is going to demolish the street of shops where they all live . Peace is restored so the Undertaker becomes the election agent for the builder and takes him on a tour of all the rest homes , so that the builder ends up getting into the Houses of Parliament . The dodgy bookie Smiling Paul has a bet on the election and wins 1million pounds. The Undertaker is furious until her hears that Smiling Paul had a road to Damascus experience and gave away all the money to help save the Chinese restaurant business of his Chinese friends . So Smiling Paul becomes a man of honour , and gets a stunning girlfriend on the way , because the Chinese must honour him . The writing is funny and tongue in cheek , if some readers see it just as a ma and pa book then good , but if they step back they will see that I’m gently poking fun at my characters . Such as Big Sid the butcher who is like a year around Santa . Patrick the baker is trying to have a love life but all the street knows his every move . His mother is relieved when finally he meets the right girl , a virgin , who turns out to be the only daughter of the man who saved the bakery many years before , to Patrick’s mum its a miracle and the will of God .
I finish with a poem from Percy the Undertaker
The Dead and The Living (c)
by
Michael Casey
I first saw a deceased when I was nine years old ,my father said not to worry as the dead are the same as the living , only the laughter has left them , the sparkle has gone from their eyes , the worry has been lifted from their shoulders , and their voice has vanished to eternity .In paradise the sparkle will return for it is the twinkle of the stars , the laughter will return too for it is the morning breeze and the turning tides are their sides shaking with laughter .I treat the deceased with the same courtesy as I give to the living , though I find the deceased are always more polite . My father also had a few words to say about the living .He said that the living are only the caretakers of the soul , yet they think their existence is everything , that they know everything because they experience many things with their senses . What the living don’t acknowledge is that their time is short and when I lay their bodies to rest then their souls continue without them , without their strong , without their weak , without their beautiful or even ugly temporary form , to where I cannot say , only that it is a better place .Percy the undertaker placed the lid on the coffin ,the soul was free
THE BEGINNING
http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
p.s. I was vetted by a Chinese Ballet dancer from the Birmingham Royal Ballet when I met my wife, my wife had met the Ballet dancer in the church next door to my old Grammar school so with a life like this no wonder I write comedy
52. Telephone Interviews
Telephone interviews are a new feature of the modern world. With so many people chasing those jobs, it’s the fastest way to sort the wheat from the chaff. There are good and bad points to it. The interviewer can be sat on the bed in a 4star hotel with a nice bottle of wine gently breathing beside him as he asks questions over the phone. As for the interviewee he can be in his dressing gown with 5 days worth of stubble on his face, his hair unwashed and uncombed, a hole in his slippers. Then politely they talk about the skill set the interviewee can bring to the task, how much experience he has doing this and doing that. The interviewer can ask the interviewee to hold the line as there is another call coming in, and he does apologise. So the interviewee is left on hold while the interviewer finishes his glass of wine and pours himself another glass. The interviewee pastes his hair down with spit even though he cannot be seen, but while on hold he will tidy himself up a bit. The interviewer watches the sports headlines on Sky TV before having another sip from his glass before resuming the interview. Questions about experience and future career paths are posed and answered. The interviewee feels confident and smiles at himself in the mirror. The interviewer loosens his belt and lets his stomach out. The interview is concluded.
Mr Unkempt gets through to the next round. This time he has to SSS which means exactly what it says, SSS. He spends ages in the bathroom , more than his sisters did when he used to live at home. He wears his best shiny black shoes, only for the laces to snap, so then he has to hunt around to find a lace that matches his shoes. Only he cannot, so he steals a navy one from a different pair of shoes. He looks in the mirror to see if its noticeable, and it is, so he loosens his belt, so his trousers hang lower so that they hide his shoes, only problem is that with his fat belly his trousers might fall off completely. That would certainly make an impression at the interview. If he was applying for a farce actor’s position then it would be great, Brian Rix would be impressed. The interviewer is a power dresser, his 1000pound suit compared to the 49.99 one worn by the interviewee. And yes the laces are noticed, immediately.
Positive body language v negative body language, neutral body language. Arms folded, arms open, open legs with hands on top of knees. Licking of lips, eyes skyward, eyes averted, eyes straight and looking into the soul.
The usual interview so to speak. Then the waiting for a letter in the post, or an email for fail.
Happy Interviews everybody.
53. As these tears fall
As these tears fall, we remember we have been here before.
As these tears fall, the love we feel hurts so much more.
As these tears fall, we are stunned and don’t know what to say.
As these tears fall, we must remember them all.
As these tears fall, we think of the smiles.
As these tears fall, we remember the laughter.
As these tears fall, we remember the kisses.
As these tears fall, we touch their things that will never be used again.
As these tears fall, we finish ironing the shirt or the trousers that will never be worn again.
As these tears fall, we feel a hole in our heart that aches so much.
As these tears fall, we remember their touch, comforting and more.
As these tears fall, we are heartbroken for our lost futures.
As these tears fall, we give thanks for what we did have.
As these tears fall, love carries on, we will meet again.
54.
The Light from a Candle ©
By Michael Casey
I watched as the candle’s life ended, smoke spiraled in the air. I tried to see where the smoke was going only it just disappeared into nothingness. Another candle came to an end,but suddenly it rared up a final flicker of flame then it was gone, black smoke twirling into the air. I strained to see where the smoke was going only it was no use. I’d need a magnifying glass, binoculars, a microscope or a periscope, smoke just could not be followed. Another candle went out again I strained to see where its life had gone, but it was no use, the trail disappeared into nothingness. The candles were going out randomly, I had to jump from one to another in a vain attempt to see its moment of death, so that I could observe what was happening to them. In all 7 maybe 8 candles “died” as I watched from my position sat next to the candle rack in the cathedral on my lunch break. That was all yesterday, and today the process was repeated.Each candle is a hope,a wish, a prayer. Just as Jazz music is music turned into smoke, that weavers and sneaks its way through an audience, a candle and its smoke is a living flame of hope and love which we all hope will touch God’s spirit and let him hear our prayers. The smoke from a candle is like a ballet dancer doing the most intricate of dances, its like girl dancing with a ribbon at the Olympics. Only the candle and its smoke might say more for us when we cann’t think of the right words to say, God Help Us, can be all we can say, but if said from the heart then it is enough, For Faith Moves Mountains.
And candles are more than flickers that end in smoke, they remind us of the Light and Warmth of God’s Love.
55. Having A Heatwave in Birmingham England
Having a Heat Wave
for everyone
Well the sun has shone on Birmingham, my wife took the kids to a fancy pool with slides and so forth. I had said just go down the road, 200 yards to the local swimming baths. The kids wanted slides so off she drove. Only the Stourbridge centre was closed. So she soothed the kids with magazines. I just laughed when they got back, the kids didn’t want to try the local baths as they now had something to read. So the back garden was now the beach, a pink umbrella was now a sun shade, pink hats were worn and sun tan cream was spread everywhere. The plastic kids chairs were also dragged out into the garden, the bedspread from one of the beds upstairs was also dragged into service. The fish radio would also have been pressed into service only the batteries have fallen out. As for me I went out shopping when the edge had gone off the heat. It was a DIY Subway brought into the home, so we had wraps that we filled with mayonaise and ham and spicy stuff. Washed down with fizzy pop and coffee. Ice cream and cones were ready in the fridge. We had a pudding if thats the right word of ice cold pineapple and its juice. If you’ve never had pineapple and its juice chilled right down, then do try it. It was family affair then we settled down for Dr Who on tv, we cannot decide on the new Dr Who, he just seems silly, we want him to be great but he isn’t.
A kind neighbour knocked the door to tell us the car window was still open, the kids had left it that way when they were out searching for a pool. So at least the car will still be outside in the morning. My girls are off to join a choir in the morning, so you can imagine what that’ll lead too. I can remember my sister singing and 45 years ago and more “shut up”was how us Casey boys responded, she’s still in that church choir. So If I reach 100 my own girls could be singing in the Warley Woods choir. So that’s our day today, tomorrow is Pentecost which is when the Holy Spirit came to the disciples, its a kind of birthday, the birth day of the Church. It was a beginning and Pentecost can be a beginning for each and everyone of us, we don’t have to speak in tongues or do miracles. Just saying hello to somebody on the bus or in the street, a simple smile can be a beginning, breaking down barriers with love.
56. this is a true story starting 14years ago
Padre Pio and Me ©
By
Michael Casey
It’s a contradiction in terms immediately , how can I copyright a Saint . A brand new saint at that . I first heard of him through some Religious reading I did . I feel embarrassed to admit it , but I am a practising Catholic , its not fashionable to have any Faith but its mine so I admit it . Immediately the prejudice begins , but if I WERE A Jew or a Muslim , it would be the same . I do feel that my catholic tastes have given me a broader outlook on life , as has my eclectic tastes and rubbing shoulders with a wide variety of people .
But I want to talk about Padre Pio . I had a crisis and was reading about him at the time , so I said my prayers to him and the way forward was revealed . Though Padre Pio always says go Higher , he is just a stepping stone on the way to a better place . What is so hard to understand about Padre Pio is how he suffered . He had the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune . Condemned by his own superiors , made to be quiet for a decade and so forth . Science Fiction teaches or rather amuses us about Time Travel , but with Padre Pio it really happened , he wanted to share in Christ’s agony so he thought , what if he too could have and suffer the wounds on that day of Crucifiction . So it came to pass that he suffered for 50years . He had the indignity of medical examinations and of being thought just to be a mental patient , but his work and life proved his holiness .
So it’s nearly 1990 and I hear about him and read a few books , its hard to understand the value of suffering in this age of quick fix pain killers and the lets have a fix , whatever the fix might be , sex, drugs and rock and roll or whatever . Its like suddenly studying again after years of lying fallow , the learning curve is enormous . So too is it with Padre Pio , the idea behind his life is enormous , but so too is the capacity for love and help .
My favourite story is how Padre Pio explains that The Wedding Feast at Cena happened because Jesus could not refuse his mother . Very Italian , or Irish or Spanish and so on , but could any of us refuse our mothers?
So I thought more about what Padre Pio said , and his motto of Pray Hope Don’t Worry became my own . Carpe Diem is another good motto but perhaps this can be used by any Hedonist , or other kind of selfish person .Padre Pio reminds us to pray and that pray is not wasted , its perfume that is never wasted is a phrase I like . My mother always used to say that if you couldn’t sleep you should say the Rosary , and she was right . Though in todays world an hour on the Internet or with MTV might do the trick .
So why the devotion to Padre Pio , I’ll cut to the chase.
My mother died suddenly but peacefully in her sleep , my brother tried CPR , but she was gone . Imagine the angusih amongst her 6 children and her husband of nearly 50 years . All except me , my mother had said no tears when she go ,so I never cried , I was the odd one out .I know how prayerful she was , so I had no need of tears .
Eight bare weeks later my brother , the same brother heard our dad fall out of bed , so he ran to his bedroom . My brother was facing the exact same situation , he tried CPR , the ambulance was called , an injection was given straight to the heart . On weekends there is a doctor in the ambulance , so Luck , if that’s the word was with us . The next day 4 of my brothers and sisters came around to tell me the news . When my sister had come around 8 weeks previously I knew somebody was dead but I assumed it was my dad , he’s die first we all thought . So now 8 weeks later it was his turn to die .
At the hospital dad was given 1 week to live , I cried like a baby , worse than a baby , but I loved him , so I told he he should go to our mother and not hang on if he didn’t want to . The next day I was in my sister’s house crying , we picked hymns for his funeral .Yet my father survived , 19 patients on a heart ward , 18 died my dad survived . Padre Pio was beseiged by my prayers , I put Padre Pio’s photo under his pillow . Dad lost his mind , he was in Dudley Rd for 3months , 12 weeks , more than half of them all tubed up . His life hanging in the balance . At the same time somewhere in Florida another man was at deaths door , he was a totally stranger to me , I didn’t even know his name , I’d never met him , he was give 24hours to live , a Chinese man from Shanghai was at deaths door . The Chinaman survived .My dad’s memory was totally wiped , he did not know who I was, I’m your son was greeted with , am I married . I was the favourite son , he did not even know me . But still we prayed , it’s a feeling in your guts , just like when you are nearly killed as you cross the road , its in your guts and in your heart , Jesus save my dad , Jesus save my dad , Padre Pio help !!! This goes around your head like a merry go around or a kaleidascope . Finally dad awoke . He said that he can remember hearing the doctor say to wheel him down to the end of the ward , because he’d be dead soon . At that moment my dad awoke, and the doctor dropped his cup of tea in shock . No not an instanteous miracle , but as Dr Singh had said if he were 30years younger he’d have a heart transplant because dad’s heart was rubbish .
Now , when I told my brother that dad was reading a newspaper he was shocked . His memory had come back . He knew who we all were .Every day for three months I walked the corridor at Dudley Rd , the longest hospital corridor in Europe , 1 kilometre long . Finally he left the hospital , my sister had found a good home for him to live in , he was far too weak to live in the family house .
For 3 years dad survived , like a Godfather with all his children making constant visits . Finally I met my future wife . It was her uncle who had miraclously survived at the same time as my father . It was her uncle who encouraged us in our love . From Shanghai to Birmingham .These great men , her uncle and my father never met , but I know Padre Pio must have helped both of them . Further prayer was needed to bring me and my wife permanenetly together . A Chinese miracle happened . Now we are wed , we have a 2year old and please God a healthy second baby in the Autumn . The improbability of our meeting , plus the fact that both men HAD to live for us to be married and have a family , this may be a coincidence to some but I know a miracle when I see one. A miracle is something that makes you feel humble , it makes you know that God has whispered your name . When I look at my wife , I feel humble . Seeing our daughter laugh and play also makes me humble as will our new baby.
Then you can look back and know that prayer is like perfume that can never be wasted , your life has led you to where you are now , yes at times sad and terrible , but be humble in the sight of God means something , not just for me , but for all Believers .
I once stood by the fridge and said to Padre Pio , I give up , you take over , all I want is to be married , and perhaps have a family , and do something useful with my life . That was just before my eyes were opened to my wife . I used to say that I got 2 out of my 3 wishes . Perhaps my current occupation is my 3rd wish , or a more outstanding miracle is waiting in the wings , but as Padre Pio said ,always ask for the big Grace .Perhaps
we have to be humble enough to deserve it , because I believe it to be a fact that , truly great people are humble because they know just how little they really know.
57. The Watch and Me ©
By
Michael Casey
I suppose my love affair with the watch started when I was just a child
now 30 years on the passion is still there . I remember lifting up my
dad’s shirt sleeve to look at the watch on his wrist , watching the second
hand sweep around and asking what time was it , not that I really
understood the concept of time , I knew midnight was always dark , that
was about it really . Oh apart from some special time called “opening
time” and “closing time” , our lodgers would pay their rent at the back
door before rushing off to the pub , it was a mystery to me .
A cousin of ours was to be ordained a priest in Dublin , so dad and
2 of my brothers went off to Dublin for the ceremony . I remember Tony
coming back with a watch on his wrist , it had a black strap and had a
small face , then at the bottom was seperate dial with a second hand on
it , we all thought it was very posh . So being children we now used this
dial to see how long we could hold our breath , we’d take a deep breath
and pump up our cheeks then Tony waved his hands and we’d start our
endurance test . Only stopping when we fell over our faces brilliant red
and our eyes bulging . I remember Tony seemed to win this game always ,
not because he cheated but because he loved under water swimming so had
mastered holding his breath . Then we had a contest to run down the yard
past the hedge to the bottom of the garden and touch the fence and
come back and touch the wall of the house , we were all young and mad then
but such simple fun was all because we had a watch with a second hand .
Jim was our lodger for 20years , when he’d been with us for 11 years
I badgered him for a present , for a watch . if I passed the 11 plus exam.
Finally he gave in and gave me his own 2nd best watch , in fact I got it
before I even sat the exam . So the watch Jim gave me was my first watch
ever . The trouble with leather watch straps is that they dig into your
flesh , so you loosen the strap but then the watch dangles , so I
compromised by using stretch straps , then you can slide a stretch strap
all the way up your arm , until it feels comfortable . I also always liked
mechanical watches , it was a night time rictual , taking my watch off and
winding it up , setting the time against the chimes of Big Ben on the
radio . So you can see just how important a watch is to me . There is just
one thing I’ve forgotten to mention , watches always break . Well when I
wear them anyway . For the past 20 years as a computer operator I’m always
carrying something and banging my watch on doors or whatever . So they
break , leaving my watch in the bathroom while I take a bath was another
of my bad habits . Watches steam up on me , or the winder gets rusty and
breaks off , or I break the glass , or the glass falls out . Once the
glass fell out , so I glued it back again , only to make a mess of the job
and glue the hands of the watch together as well . Finally I decided to
get a quartz watch , they were accurate , only my sweaty wrist steamed up
the face constantly , so I couldn’t read the time . On average a watch
lasts me 1 year , my sister Mary always laughs every time I show her my
latest new watch . A simple Lorex watch was the best one I ever had , its
lasted 5 years . However I must confess that it has only lasted me that
long because when dad was in hospital after mum had died and he had nearly
died too he wanted a watch so he could pass the time , by looking at the
watch , so he’d know when his next meal was , the fact that there was a
clock on the wall not 2 yards away did not matter . Of course I took the
watch off my wrist and gave it to him . he was my dad and I loved him , so
if a watch would please him , he could have mine . That was 4 years ago ,
dad is called the miracle man , by the doctors , he beat death , dad’s
time was up and the grim reaper made an appearance twice , but dad is
still alive and kicking , my watch ticking on his wrist . Or so it was
until last month . Jie Jie my Chinese wife bought me a fancy watch for my
Birthday so I gave dad my watch , a fancy Esprit model , amd I retired the
old one , but I have kept it as a souvenir , we all thought dad would die
in weeks , but his heart is still ticking as strong and reliable as a
Rolex watch . I think when we all die , if we are not worthy of Paradise
immediately God will issue us with a Rolex and we have to wear it for a
billion years , until we are worthy of Paradise . God’s watch is the
turning tides , the movememnt of the stars accross the heavens and
rumbling super vovas , after all didn’t time begin with creation . It is
us stupid mankind who try to limit it to a dial on a watch .
58. As I look out my window
I look out my window the breeze gently rocks the rose bush in my front garden. Loony Chick the teddy bear or should I say the teddy chick big and bright yellow sits in the front window. He or is it she, came all the way from Shanghai last Summer now Loony Chick sits in the window of our Birmingham home. But at least Loony Chick can still hear some Chinese every day and still smell Chinese food. So Life is normal for him or is it her? So what is normal? Having your own bed to sleep in and not some hotel far far away, not grandma’s house in Shanghai, not an uncles house in Shanghai. Just normal, ordinary Birmingham. The clouds are so bright, the white white candy floss with all its funny shapes. The grey clouds are trying to group together to form rain clouds and then in the middle is the blue blue sky. This is Nature and is a Free Show, just as the breeze can be like a kiss on the cheek, the flowers beginning to bloom, the buds on the buds on my neighbours apple tree next door, the golden chain at the bottom of my own garden. Transplanted 20 years ago and more from my own mum’s garden. The technicolour green grass in the garden, the bluebells in the flower bed and a few stray ones in the lawn itself. Grandpa’s flower too, as we call one lone tulip which holds such memories for us. There are a few weeds too and some wild shamrock that survived this harsh Winter just gone, scattered chalks in the yard, or should I say patio, which has drawings all over it, thanks to my artistic girls. Then there is the view of the washing line with small small clothes on it, untill you see my “flags” giant items blowing in the wind, my clothes are so big compared to my girls things. When I was in Shanghai the 1st time, now over 10years ago, we could locate Ma’s house by my flags hanging from bamboo poles from the window ledge 4 stories up.
And the point of all my musings? Today everybody wants to talk about the new PM and the New Politics, and there will be much noise made. So instead of worrying about that, why not just sit sit back and have a nice cup of coffee and a Cadburys Crunchy Bar too. Look outside in the garden and see the bumble bees bumbling, see the magpies dance about, they may even steal your Crunchy Bar wrapper. Watch the clouds amble through the sky, listen to that ticking clock on the shelf besides the hugh Chinese/English dictionary, bound in red of course. The Tick Tock is soothing compared to the whine of the PC processor at my feet, I can hear the back door close as my wife brings in the washing. All these are ordinary things BUT usually they go unobserved, take time out, if I dare mention a rival chocolate bar, take time out just to enjoy life. None of this costs any money nor takes any effort, BUT will be good for your Spirit, failing that just reach for the Johnny Walker Red Label, or in my case the Dr Pepper.
59. Image Imagination Ignorance
I did a quick google of “michaelgcasey” to see who was looking me up. Then I clicked on Image to see the snaps of myself. This morning loads of snaps appeared. This proves several things, my vanity, and who in the whole wide world is clicking on “michaelgcasey” to check me out. There are family snaps plus ones of me in a suit, or me in an Australian rugby shirt holding up the self published version of my book. As you all know I still want a REAL publisher and me holding up the book in a real book store. That’s the image I’d really like to see. As you all also know anybody who has clicked on my stuff or posted stuff in a comment then their connection appears in a Google search. So their image is tied to my image, even if really they have no connection to me at all. Its like a stranger standing in at a wedding photo just for the fun of it. Wedding crashers is the name of the game. This actually happened at one wedding I attended.
My main theme though is Image. At a Wedding we all tend to wear our best suits and polish those black shoes that have been gathering dust at the back of the closet. We make an effort so to please our mum, our friends, our ex lover, boyfriend, girlfriend and so on. We spend 20K or 30K in USD, all so that we look good on the Wedding photos, we have a day to remember. Personally I say its the Marriage that Matters, not the Wedding Day. You can read from the Bible and as you read you wonder, how long will this Marriage last. Everybody looks so good, and they have chosen the best caterers, the cake was made by Aunt Ann and she does it for a living, we saved so much you know. All this is Image. You could have bought a brand new car instead, but the Day in King, So even though we cann’t afford it, we will have our day so that someday in the future somebody somewhere can google and find us all dressed to the nines on our wedding day. Me I just bought a new car, I won’t even bore you with why. I’ll let you all use your imagination. How many different guesses will you all have?
In Shanghai and the East they do a photo shoot with various costumes including the tradional white wedding dress, then they hand out credit card sized photos of the loving couple. The book is as big as a shopping catologue with photos printed on very very thick paper.I ts a nice souvenir, a nice Image.
What of our own individial image. Don’t take a photo my hair’s a mess, say wives and girlfriends and perhaps some TV reporters, male and female. Let me comb my hair first. Tuck in your shirt, wipe the pizza from your face. Change your clothes,and the list goes on. Politicians dress up or dress down, Royalty over here do the same. Why? For the sake of image. Before I change water into wine, I’ll just change my tunic… Sorry I cannot kiss him, he hasn’t changed, he needs a shave, he smells. What if it was your dad lying there, dying there? I’ve been down that road. A kiss, a touch is PRICELESS, never let ignorance and image get in the way of love.
60. This is Me This is You
This is me, that’s what all these these blogs are. Though I’d prefer you’d read the attachments, they are longer and have more depth to them. I’d also hope you’d read the 500page novel The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker. Or maybe my play Shoplife.
Though there is more to me and to you than that. I took my watch off last night and it set me thinking. Our possessions define us, what we own shows what kind of person we are. My current watch is a cheap Russian one, but its an automatic one. I’ve fallen in love with automatic watches these past 7 years since my Chinese dad sent one to me. I also like paintings, real ones because there was an Italian art gallery near my house, if I look out my window I can see it, the artist is still there but he’s moved on, now he does photos printed on canvas, his son’s face beams out from the shop window. I also like Kebabs but I hardly eat them at all now. But I still love fizzy pop, 100 times more than I like beer. So does this make me a big kid? Or should I be all grown up and tell lies and pretend to be this and pretend to be that? I also love music, for years I saw bands in an upper room, a very smoke filled upper room. As well as listening to lots of music on the radio and buying CDs. Now I’ve moved on, I’ve downloaded my CDs to my PC so while I’m writing I can listen to my favourite groups.
So there you have it, a picture of me. If you heard this on the radio instead of reading it here would you like what you hear? Or the more of the picture you get do you hate it more and more? Its like the Election 2010 the more we hear from the different politicians the less or more we hate them. But what about you? What would you reveal, what would you hide.? Its like the makeup a woman puts on. If its done right it highlights her best features, but if its done wrong, it can be as bad as a child putting its mom’s makeup on. Its your tone of voice which has to connect with or sooth the listener. Just as a mum sooths a sick child, or just as a dad scolds a naught child. Warmth can be heard in a voice, anger and violence can be heard in a voice, a voice can be as bad as chalk screeching on a blackboard. Thats why songs and music is so sweet because instantly it connnects with our souls. If I’m very lucky it takes 20seconds for my words to reach your heart, music is so fast and so powerful, thats why I admire and am jealous of music makers.
This is Me and This is You, you are the reader I hope you like what I write, I DO write so that people hear my voice, I’m not clever enough to write long literary passages. I hope I write as the average reader would write if they had the time to do so. Somebody was very kind the other day and she said she liked my stuff. So I can say that a little encouragement does go a long way. So when your son or daughter won’t put the light out because they have not quite finished their diary, just be pacient, just as you have been with me.
61. May time of Spring flowers and Bitter sweet memories
May is a month full of memories. Tomorrow my wife is 33, so its happy birthday to her.
Next Friday , one week after her Birthday its the 10th anniversary since my mum died
2 months after that ,my dad died, my brother did CPR and saved him long enough for the doctor to come
injection straight to the heart.Dad had died , but was revived. He was given a week to live. I sat in my sisters house a few hundred yards from mine and we picked hymns for dads funeral.
But he came back, read Padre Pio and Me for details http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
Later in May just 2 years ago my wife’s dad was killed in an accident in Shanghai. I rushed home from the
hotel, my eyes full of tears. Only he agreed with me and said I’d been right to send JJ back to China with he message to tell her parents all my bad points. Now still young he was dead. He died a few days before his
granddaughter’s 3rd birthday, his 2nd granddaughter was still only 7 months old.
Two deaths and 2 Birthdays that’s what May brings. Every May brings the promise of Spring and Happiness that Birthdays bring. But it is balanced by 2 deaths. Death of a mum for me, and death of a dad for my wife.
Eternal balance and equilibrium .I remember my mum standing by the fridge in her blue and white smock, that was the last time I saw her, apart from in her coffin when I kissed her ice cold cheek. So much warmth now it was all gone. My sister went back to her house one day a few weeks after the funeral. There were flowers growing everywhere, white daisies growing everywhere. Our mum had sneaked up to my sister’s house on the 82 bus, then she’d planted seeds. Their scent was her memorial. Always loving her children, her 6 children, now the flowers were her smile goodbye.
I had put my wife on the first flight to Shanghai, I rung the hotel and said I’d be back in 2 weeks, I was left holding the babies, while my wife dashed off. Her dad was not quiet dead when she arrived in Shanghai, he was on support and still warm, JJ had time to kiss him goodbye. Then she had to arrange the funeral.
Now I wear my Chinese dad’s best watch on my wrist, I have always loved watches , now I have a good one , all because somebody had died. May is a time of celebration in China and the East , the Spring Festival and so forth. For me May reminds me of my blessings, a mom who gave me such a deep Faith, as deep as I need it, and we all know that can be very deep indeed especially in time of need. My dad survived because of a miracle and I am not abusing the word. My prayers were heard and now I have 2 daughters too when then I had no clue what the future would do.
May moves me and I hope it moves you all, none of us can predict the future, no matter how hard we try but I know my ma and a are looking down from up there in the sky.
62. Library Books
Over 40 years ago one Summer my brother needed to go to the library, so he took all of us in toe. The library is a fine old building from the Victorian age when it was thought you could educate the working class masses. You can google and find out more for yourself, or maybe there is an old English history book in your own local library. Anyways we got to the library and it was shut, so my brother said “at least you’ve seen the library.” It was a hot summer’s day and we had all just walked 2 miles and it would be 2 miles back. I can remember there was a little sweet shop right next door, but I don’t remember if we had any money for sweets onthat occasion. It was before the tower blocks were built at Spring Hill, this was around the time that old houses were demolished and the brand new idea of tower blocks was invented. It makes me realise just how much the passage of time has passed. I’m like Bill Clintonnow in that speech he gave, “I have seen more Summers than I will see.” I’ve reached part two of my life, the part that leads to the end. Personally I feel my Life has not yet begun, does this make me a child or am I in denial? I still have dreams and you all know what they all, they are attached to my blogs. Back to the library, we have one at the bottom of my street, so we’re getting our girls to use it. No need to walk to the Victorian one, which still stands, and they even diverted a new road to save the old library and now its a listed building, and still opens occasionally. So instead we walk to the bottom of our street, and to the right is the library, I think it was built in the 30s. Inside I get my girls to browse and pick up as many books as they can. Nowadays you are allowed to borrow 12 books at a time, when I was using a library it used to be four. I read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes books when I was 12 or so, I never became a detective, I was just hiding from Mr Gallagher and his hit slipper, that started at the age of 8 and changed my life for the better. Corporal punishment hurts the butt but focuses the mind. Once hitten twice shy so to speak. I ended up as Head Boy too. And all because of not knowing my times tables, but I was never hit again, I made sure of that, There was the class library on the bookshelves besides me so I practically read everything, literally everything, mainly History. When I left Primary school I was given The Outline Of History by H.G.Wells by the headmaster. It sits on the bookshelf to my right, next to an enormous Chinese/English dictionary and a bigger English dictionary, and a little fairy next to a photo of my girls with just enough room for a clock, I do love a nice clock, and watch for that matter. Back to the library at the end of the road my girls browse and my smallest one chooses a few books with bears inside, anything remotely like Pooh Bear always interests her. She finally settles for 10 books and her big sister has five. Its still the Easter holidays so I want to keep their minds occupied. A bit of reading and then TV and cartoons, all things Roal Dahl on tv are always a bit hit. As we leave the library “Daddy when will your books be in the library.” “Whenever I find a publisher.” is my reply full of hope. We cross over the road so they can look at comics in the store, then its off home, later after they have done some reading there will be reward while we do some shopping. I can still remember my mother teaching me to read by looking at the Phantom cartoon in the local news paper, more than 45 years ago. Now my big daughter as I call her is on Library books and she’s away, my little daughter who calls herself the qutest while her big sister is the prettiest she just needs a bit of encouragement and then she too will be flying. My little daughter says she wants to be a doctor, she has a plastic stethoscope already, so only time will tell. I tell both of them to try and remember everything so they can in turn tell their own kids. My big daughter wants to be a designer so if she’s a designer and her sister is a doctor then I’d be so proud. Us, we the Parents are stepping stones for our children to stand on, our shoulders are there so they can stand on them, and books are food to feed their appetite.
63. If I were a Rich Man, though I’d settle for being able to
Sing Like Topol
I wanted to write a piece to celebrate Halloween, Christopher Lee the great Dracula actor got Knighted today, was the spurr. However this time of year brings back a few memories to me. 1977 was a turning point in my Life. 1986 another turning point and 1999 a 3rd turning point.Why Autumn shoud be such a turning point I’ll never know.The Love my father had for all of us stands out amongst these anniversaries. November was his Birthday as well, his last Birthday was his 80th, we had a gathering at my sister’s house, he held his granddaughter in his arms, he’d beaten Death and had 5.5 years of extra time.
When I bought my house his advice was “Michael, buy that house” So I did. The dog had actually found the house, he had cocked his leg and christened the gate post, and it was only then that I saw the for sale sign.
Now I dream of a bigger house for my girls, so that they can have a room to do art in, even if it is the garage. My youngest even has dreams about us living in a big white house, the one on the school run, and that we have a dog and a cat.I’d just love to have a bigger house closer to the park and the woods. That’s been a dream of mine for 30 years at least, so I suppose I have brain washed my girls. Though I do miss the days when at the family home we did have a cat and a dog. One of the dogs even went to the seaside with us, even attending Mass, and delighting a blind boy by licking him all over when he bumbed into him on the beach.
I do sing If I were a Rich Man, from time to time, and then break down in pretend tears, saying why do I have girls, 3 girls, if you include the wife. They laugh as I do all the actions and become a Birmingham version of Topol, though the Jazz improvisations are all mine. Though I might add that my local priest does look like Topol and sing as well too, Life does immitate Art after all. When finally it is time for bed and I get my girls to say their prayers, they add ” and please Jesus can we have a big white house and a cat and a dog called SubWay”
Direct and to the point, but Padre Pio used to say always ask for the big grace, so if you all excuse me for tonight, I just have to say my prayers before I go to bed, I was thinking about asking for a cat, and a dog called Subway just for the kids and maybe a big white house for us to share with the animals. It is Autumn after all and big things always happen in Autum or should I say the Fall.
64.
Telephone Interviews
Telephone interviews are a new feature of the modern world. With so many people chasing those jobs, it’s the fastest way to sort the wheat from the chaff. There are good and bad points to it. The interviewer can be sat on the bed in a 4star hotel with a nice bottle of wine gently breathing beside him as he asks questions over the phone. As for the interviewee he can be in his dressing gown with 5 days worth of stubble on his face, his hair unwashed and uncombed, a hole in his slippers. Then politely they talk about the skill set the interviewee can bring to the task, how much experience he has doing this and doing that. The interviewer can ask the interviewee to hold the line as there is another call coming in, and he does apologise. So the interviewee is left on hold while the interviewer finishes his glass of wine and pours himself another glass. The interviewee pastes his hair down with spit even though he cannot be seen, but while on hold he will tidy himself up a bit. The interviewer watches the sports headlines on Sky TV before having another sip from his glass before resuming the interview. Questions about experience and future career paths are posed and answered. The interviewee feels confident and smiles at himself in the mirror. The interviewer loosens his belt and lets his stomach out. The interview is concluded.
Mr Unkempt gets through to the next round. This time he has to SSS which means exactly what it says, SSS. He spends ages in the bathroom , more than his sisters did when he used to live at home. He wears his best shiny black shoes, only for the laces to snap, so then he has to hunt around to find a lace that matches his shoes. Only he cannot, so he steals a navy one from a different pair of shoes. He looks in the mirror to see if its noticeable, and it is, so he loosens his belt, so his trousers hang lower so that they hide his shoes, only problem is that with his fat belly his trousers might fall off completely. That would certainly make an impression at the interview. If he was applying for a farce actor’s position then it would be great, Brian Rix would be impressed. The interviewer is a power dresser, his 1000pound suit compared to the 49.99 one worn by the interviewee. And yes the laces are noticed, immediately.
Positive body language v negative body language, neutral body language. Arms folded, arms open, open legs with hands on top of knees. Licking of lips, eyes skyward, eyes averted, eyes straight and looking into the soul.
The usual interview so to speak. Then the waiting for a letter in the post, or an email for fail.
Happy Interviews everybody.
65. Let them eat cake or how the wife tried to poison me
My wife loves cake. She always brings home some really nice cake and if I’m lucky I get the crumbs, and I mean crumbs. But we end up laughing so that’s fine, the kids love cake too. So I’ll see the wrapper and be told that it was the kids fault and there was none left. I’m too big already I’m told, so I get none. You can get some really nice cake in Sainsbury’s or you can get some cake and coffee in Drucker’s cafe in the city centre by House of Fraser. My mum used to buy glazed ring donuts when I was a child, somehow I always ended up with 2 or sometimes 3. That’s a long time ago now. As for the wife and her cake, she loves eating it and there is Chinese cake which is different to western cake. So the wife decided to make cake and I was the crash test dummy so to speak. The first attempt was ok but the filling was not totally baked. I still ate it anyway. The crust was a little burnt too, but didn’t King Alfred burn the cakes too, so she is in very good company. Next she contacted the good and the great in the Chinese community, even the Dr wife of the Dr who had given me acupuncture last week. No it wasn’t a medical problem, just what was the methodology for making the best cakes. Chinese people are totally focused on anything they do, whether its science, industry, building Shanghai, or as I’ve discovered making cakes. There is good news though, the one think Chinese people are bad at, is, drinking beer. They fall over after just a few pints. So my wife armed with fresh insight and the correct gas setting for the oven tried again. The second attempt was even better, I was scolded for eating all her hard work. She even left a trail of flour dust all over the computer after she’d checked a Chines site which had a cookery section. Today she was practicing making beef, so obviously I had to try it, and it was very good. The 3rd attempt at baking was also today. And it was perfection, her Chemist training no doubt had helped, even if she joked she was a Chemist and she could kill me if she wanted. The cakes were good and I reluctantly had to leave some for the kids for when they got home from school. Tomorrow another lot of baking will happen.I will pretend to be a porcupine as I have more acupuncture while downstairs my wife will be dressed in her bright red cook’s bib with the Korean writing on as she cooks. Masterchef in our house.
66. Me and my Radio
I remember my first radio,it was a small blue plastic tranny. I can remember when we heard the news on it that RFK had been asasinated. I remember the white plastic family tranny we had. I remember the old Bush radio with the saucer dial, that is now called retro. Having that radio given to us by Frank Brown a lodger of ours changed my life. We used to listed to the world tonight with Douglas Stewart reporting followed by the book at bed time.I can remember listening to The Ghost and Mrs Muir, only I fell asleep so my brother had to tell me what happened. I always had a radio beside me, it was my company when me brother left home, company while I did my homework and studied for my O Levels.Listen to Radio 4 constantly for 20 years.Perhaps hearing 3 plays a week for all those years, enjoying words, enjoying knowledge and news. When I heard about DAB I just had to have one,though they do eat batteries big time. I even bought an adapter so I can hear DAB through my HiFi. Real radio was my favourite until it disappeared, stations with Music and less prattle and talking over songs were my joy of DAB. I even bought a personal DAB radio as a Birthday present to myself 5 years ago. My Ferguson is still going strong, though my daughter has stolen it these Easter holidays and wants one of her own, even though she has a Blick DAB in her bedroom. Yes I am in love with radio, and if anybody wants to give me their DABs because their love affair is over then just send them along. AND if there are any fancy Pure personal dabs to be had I’d love them too, that way all my family could have one and I wouldn’t have to hide my personal Dabs from my two girls. Radio can change a life and radio really is company, in some ways it has been a best friend to me, 40 years a friend and I hope 40 more years of friendship, though I’d rather hear my own plays on the radio. I can spot a radio 4 play at 100 yards now……..
67. How do you blog?
How do YOU blog? And perhaps more importantly, Why do you blog? I was thinking about my next blog here when I thought instead of writing about today’s events I write about how I get to write about today’s and any day’s events. Me, I’ve started writing back in 1987, I kind of stumbled into it like I’ve done most things in my life. It did take my 1 year to learn, learn the hard way to write. I hope that I’m a better writer because of this. Little stories gave way into an attempt to write a book. Sat in front of the gas fire, on an old barn chair with the back cut off I perched a typewriter on a stool and away I went. I ended up with a 235 page novel which I then called “A Nation Of Shopkeepers”, which was Napoleon’s contemptous phrase for the English. Until Wellington cut him down to size. A few years later I decided I wanted more that just one typescript of my “masterpiece” so I bought an Atari 520 and started copytyping it all out, so then I’d have it on a computer and I could make multipul copies. I should add that the noivel doubled in size and I renamed it The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, I still have those multipul copies scattered around my house, just in case of fire or theft. 10 years ago when I met my Shanghai rose we had to invest in a proper computer and Internet so my wife could talk to her mum in Shanghai. As for me it was a chance to have a website so that my babies were safe in cyberspace. It also gave me a chance to blog. Now IF you compare one of my essays, attached to these blogs, then you can see there is a difference in style. I hope my blogs read as if its a bedtime story, your nan or grandpa is sitting in the chair beside you and he’s recounting a funny story that makes you feel secure and happy and lets you drift off to sleep. For me its writing practice, if you don’t practice then you forget how to do it. Its also a short form of writing that takes no more that an hour or much less, but it gives you a chance to “preach” to the rest of the world. You can also make friends. I used to practice my writing on positive thoughts.com and there were lots of nice folks there, one post got 800 views. The forum has now closed that’s why I annoy people on this site instead. But back to my theme, why do we all blog, well its so we can all say “hey listen to me ” , “I’m just as good as you”, ultimately we have our own tv/radio station via our blogs. Or perhaps I should say Newspaper, its a chance to share, to boast, to grow together even, to laugh together too. I must say there are some good jokes that do the rounds and I do like them, not to forget the poems and thoughts that are shared. I was once in a bar in County Kerry and the pub was owned by an Irish writer, his book The Field was made into a film with Richard Harris. Hie neice told me that he wrote because it was “in him”. What does that mean? I think I understand because the stories that are “in me” just have to come out. Even if you stop writing and its only as you are picking up litter around the 4star hotel car park that that ideas come back to you, then you can begin to understand what “in me” means. Just as musicians have the music in them, so words are in me and in you all as you blog here and now on this Multiply site. Do you wait for all the story to be ready in your head or do you just start with an idea and wait for the Muse to take you where it wants to go. I enjoy going with the flow, its like closing your eyes when youare on a long journey and when you open your eyes you have arrived at some place totally different, like crossing a border in the night. While I blog my big daughter sometimes sneaks downstairs so she can watch and read as I write something. Or when I finish a new blog I get her to have a read to see if it makes her laugh or whatever. All I can say is that to blog is to share, folks may never bother to open an attachment but at least for the course of the blog I have an audience, even if it could only be an audience of one, and that’s my daughter.
68. Various Poems for you all
Some Poetry for you all. Normally I write comedy
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
This next poem is from my novel The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker which is a comedy/drama
Percy is a Poet who happens to be an Undertaker. He has a fight with a builder and the builder runs for Parliament and wins because Percy takes him on a tour of the rest homes. Now read a poem from Percy
The Dead and The Living (c)
by
Michael Casey
I first saw a deceased when I was nine years old ,my father said not
to worry as the dead are the same as the living , only the laughter
has left them , the sparkle has gone from their eyes , the worry has
been lifted from their shoulders , and their voice has vanished to
eternity .
In paradise the sparkle will return for it is the twinkle of the
stars , the laughter will return too for it is the morning breeze and
the turning tides are their sides shaking with laughter .
I treat the deceased with the same courtesy as I give to the living ,
though I find the deceased are always more polite . My father also
had a few words to say about the living .
He said that the living are only the caretakers of the soul , yet
they think their existence is everything , that they know everything
because they experience many things with their senses .
What the living don’t acknowledge is that their time is short and
when I lay their bodies to rest then their souls continue without
them , without their strong , without their weak , without their
beautiful or even ugly temporary form , to where I cannot say , only
that it is a better place .
Percy the undertaker placed the lid on the coffin ,the soul was free
THE BEGINNING
Michael G Casey email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com
This third poem is a Love poem
You’re Never Alone When You Are in Love ©
By
Michael Casey
Love is being together , Love is a smile , a Look , A Touch
Or Just A Sigh , Not really knowing why you chose one another .
Yet Together Till You Die
Love is a Kiss soft and gentle on the cheek which warms your
heart and makes you glad you chose one another .
A Kiss can lead to more but I’ll leave Passion locked Safely
behind a bedroom door
Passion spent you’ll not give up each not even for Lent .
You’ll just lie in warm embrace and remember you forgot to say
grace .
Whispers and Promises are made , plans for the future and if
she put her hair this way , Do you think it would suit her ?
Then giggles and more embraces , Till the Night is over and with
a dig in the ribs you make him move over .
Then your oneness complete , you have to put up with his cold feet !
But when you are apart your hearts are still one , Thought half is
absent you are still one .
His socks under the bed , and after what you said .
His “toys” scattered about , and the clout you’ll give when he
returns and the warmth of your body he yearns .
His cold feet to chill you after he thrills you , are absent yet the
thought makes you smile , at least you have the comfort for a while.
His grins and leers , which makes you smile at least you’ll have
peace for a while .
But his heart is still with you , the love is always there – as
bright as your fair hair .
Close your eyes and he is still there , Remember the embrace as he
played his fingers across your face .
Let your dreams go and remember the whispers in your ear , warm
kisses on your shoulder before he gets bolder . The warmth of love
that soars through your blood .
Dream long , Dream deep , your Man toils while you sleep , though
you are apart you are still together whatever the weather , for you
are never apart for he is locked in your heart .
Though sometimes he can be trying , there’s Never any need of crying
for your love is Undying.
Always remember he fills your heart even when you are apart
End
That’s all the poems I can share at the moment.
69.
Crawling Like a Worm in The Dirt, humbled by a photo copier.
by Michael Casey
This is one piece from essay/blog postings, I type fast so excuse any mistakes.
Well this is my 100th post, I had hoped I could think up something nice or even spectacular. This is what I’ve come up with. I’m laughing now as I type. Yesterday 5minutes after I started work I bent down to fill up the copiers. I filled one, then another, then I did a third. I then screamed, I had straightened up too fast and had ricked/strained my back on the right hand side. So these past 27hours have been a lesson in pain and humility. I felt such a fool at work, the girls I work were both sympathetic and funny. Somebody came by for some coloured paper , I bent down to look under our shelf and I was racked with pain, one girl told me to crawl away out of the way so that she could find it instead. I hobbled away, out of the way. The rest of day I moved about like an 80 year old, rather like my own dad. I hoped that on my lunch break while I sat for 30mins in the cathedral my back would be restored. We stand all day in our print as some of you may remember me mention. Prayer and rest for 30mins no doubt aided my soul but not my back. I went back to work and hobbled about for a couple of hours. Then I decided I really had to go home and rest.
Getting home I got off the bus and had to walk only 300yards, a crippled Charlie Chaplin kind of walk, though I look more like Oliver Hardy. I was home 2 hours earlier than normal so the family were surprised.
I told them I was fired as a joke. Then I sat down on an old chair and then I could hardly move. Standing up again was an impossiblity. Last Friday we had a drama with my youngest, this Friday, Friday 13th it was my turn. My girls all laughed at me, just as I would laugh at them if the tables were reversed. Night came and knew I could never climb the stairs to bed, but at least our bathroom was downstairs. So I tumbled onto our sofa and got ready to spend the night there. Only we have a glass coffee table in front of it and I was afraid of falling off onto it. So at 1am I staggered up the stairs like a drunk with locked joints, then I rolled onto my bed, screaming as I did so. I did sleep, but in the morning I had to slither out like a snake sliding out of bed on my belly. Some positions were possible and some were not. My wife laughed till she cried my youngsters did too, as for me, I laughed and cursed and laughed again. My wife went to see the pharmacy man for advice and a spray for me. The pharmacist laughed too, he’s an old friend. When she got back I was all sprayed up, the old spray and the newly bought one drenching me and my room with the stench of a bad back. I slithered in and out of bed, crawling around as I couldn’t stand up straight. As for getting down stairs that would be an impossiblity. My wife went shopping, stopping first to steal my debit card, laughing she left me in my bed of pain. When she returned she gave me yoghurt and orange juice. Later I just had to go downstairs, but I couldn’t walk. I slithered off bed like snake, then made it to my hands and knees, then an inspired idea. I bounced down the stairs one step at a time, on my butt , one step at a time. Then I crawled across our living room and pulled myself up onto a chair. I did notice that we needed a new carpet after 20years our carpet does need replacing. I then rewarded myself by stealing my wife’s pork she’d just made.
Later after some movements like belly dancer of 120 years old, I managed to straighten up. I do walk as if I have a full diaper though. I made it too my big chair in front of my computer. And that’ s how I got to write this 100th post.
The moral of all this? Well I am a very bad patient. Health is the most important thing in our lives. I rejoice that my girls have a good sense of humour, even if I am the butt of it all. Last year when I had food poisoning they had plenty to laugh about then. And I do laugh at that memory. We are all worms crawling in the dirt. It is God’s love that lifts us up, as does our family life. Sometimes it is only though pain and adversity that we learn such truths, sometimes we learn mundane things, but they too have meaning for us, even if its just the fact that we need a new living room carpet.
That’s a true story, http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com to read more of my stuff
70
The trouble with Technology ©
By
Michael Casey
The trouble with technology is that we all use it , now if we just left it all alone then we all have no problems . Simple really but we all just cann’t leave it alone , we all just have yo use it . In the beginning if we wanted water we’d fetch the bucket and drop it down a well . My mother was born just 30feet from the sea , but they were fortunate because they had their own well , so they went outside and dropped the bucket down the well and then they had water . Then technology comes along and we just turn a tap and we have clean water instantly . We have hot water too , at the turn of a tap . In one generation so many changes . However technology then works against us , because we assume it will always work and that there will be no problems
We don’t even know where the stopcock is , so our homes flood and then we discover we are not covered by our insurance .
My mother grew up with an oil lamp hanging above , no luxury of gas lamps for her , as for electricity , that was just a dream . Nowadays how could any society manage without electricity , its impossible to believe life without electricity . No tv , no radio , no freezers , no street lighting , no traffic lights, the list goes on and on . As for indoor plumbing , the luxury of a hot bath , the WC in the home . My mother grew up with no indoor plumbing , if you needed the bathroom as the American’s say , then you’d leave the house and pick your spot in a field with the cows gazing on , as for toilet paper you had a blade of grass to wipe your %^** . As for me we did not have such hardships , we had an outside WC , which we did not have to share with any other family , just 8 Caseys sharing our outside bog/toilet . There was a yard light to illuminate the way and a light in the toilet too . Which was sheer luxury compared to my mum’s and my dad’s childhoods . My dad would always come home and immediately switch off the yard light because it was wasting electricity . Then a shout would go up “Put the light on” , and my dad would always say “I didn’t know” . Then there was the indignity of running out of paper . My brother Tony had a very good sense of humour so it was always the case that I’d shout from the yard “More Bog Roll” which is the English slang for toilet paper . Tony was kind so he’d always bring out a fresh supply of paper , only he liked to tease so he’d push one sheet , just one sheet of paper under the door and say that’s all there was in the house , and that mom said I’d have to use my finger . Then he’d go away laughing . He always left a full roll of paper on the doorstep , much to my relief .
Simple technology , we all take for granted , water and electricity . What does all this technology do for us ? It gives us independent comfortable lives , we have clean water , hot water , light and warmth . Then with the miracle of TV we can all watch the world go by , from the comfort of our homes , or the local bar whichever is our true home . We are now a global village as has often been said , but then we become anti social as its easier to watch tv than to interact with real people , we’d rather watch fiction on tv than have a real life . But with technology we can send an email to our neighbour across the road , with pictures and video , rather than leave our castle homes , rather than going over for a coffee and a bar of chocolate .That’s one view the optimistic view says that we truly can break down barriers by using the miracle of email to keep us connected though we are thousands of miles apart . I have to hold my hand up and admit that I am an email Junky , I did send up to 5 emails a day to my friend in another part of the office , because we were both having fun . Then when I fell in love with my one true love it was ONLY because of the miracle of email that our love survived .I sent my girlfriend long long emails everyday for 6 months . She was in Shanghai while I was in Birmingham . My heart was breaking with love and hope until finally she came back to me . I’d come home from work at 3am and hit the keyboard , with luck because of the time difference we’d actually be live and talking almost in real time .You cannot imagine how heart rending it was to come home to an email , to get up in the afternoon and read an email before going on night shift .I think whoever invented email should be made a saint, without email our love would not have lasted . An exchange of letters takes 14 days from Birmingham to Shanghai , so thank God for email and God himself KNOWS just how much I mean that , Sainthood is not high enough reward for the inventor of email .Is it Saint Bill Gates ? The telephone is fantastic , but too expensive , I know my phone bill reached 4 figures , but an email can be read over and over again , and even printed off , so it is a letter.
So I confess email is the most important leap in technology of the 20th Century , as far as I am concerned .
The next stage in the technology story are mobile phones that send/receive video and tv , so we are literally wired up where ever we are in the world science fiction becoming science fact . We all used empty match boxes to pretend we were Captain Kirk communicating to the Enterprise but now they are here for real . If you have been in a theatre,church,hospital and these things bleep you have to decide for yourself are they useful or just a real pain in the *&^% . On balance they are good , but people have to be a lot more considerate , nobody else wants to hear their conversations if they are in church or at the theatre or even cinema . I remember a conversation I had at dinner on Xmas Eve just gone , the guy sat next to me happen to design mobile phones , he was very very good at his job , but I did warn caution about saturation point being reached . Then today 4months on , I am proved right , the mobile giants are in trouble , why , because of saturation point now being reached .
I don’t want to end on low note , so I’ll tell another anecdote , we all remember when we had our first colour tv , how wonderful it was and how we all marvel and the colours . The BBC started showing snooker because of the colours , and now tv without snooker would be unimaginable . Then remote control came in , so we’d try different positions and even outside the house and through the glass into the room where the tv was . Technology makes us all like children , its supposed to be a triumph of engineering and technology but really its our greatest toy , and our greatest joy . On Saturday my dad will come out of the old peoples home to spend the day with me and my Chinese wife in our home . I’ll be able to show him the internet and I hope I can bring tears of joy to his eyes as I show him County Kerry on the computer monitor . Sitting in my living room in Birmingham he can read the Irish newspapers and see his homeland where he started as a blacksmith in the 1930s . This is how we should be using technology
71.
My Wife The House Painter ©
By Michael Casey
As I speak my wife is painting the bathroom. Its 9:45pm and the kids are all tucked up in bed. So she can paint away to her heart’s content. She is a much better painter than me, if any of you have trawled to the bottom of my site you will have read Michael’s Bathroom a tale of paint and disaster from 11 years ago, from before I met my Shanghai wife. That’s her 10years ago on my profile photos. Right now she’s wearing her pink and red strawberry pattern pyjamas while she paints. She is very good, she can even do intricate calligraphy, I think its because she’s good at that so she’s good with a paint brush in her hands. Earlier I had to test our 5 year old ready for her spelling test in the morning. She got 10/10 last week so we want her to continued. I got her to write the spellings out while I said them for her, you have to try and sound out all the letters, and remember the “baby” pronunciations too. She got lunch wrong she spelt it “luch” so I got her to write it out ten times correctly, only she wrote it out ten times incorrectly, so I encouraged her again and she wrote it out 10 times again, but this time correctly. We never had any of this 40 years ago, education has progressed in leaps and bounds. My other daughter had homework and a crossword too, I had to explain what crosswords were all about, and not arguing, but words that crossed and fitted into each other like Jigsaws. She also had some maths, she was on a high because she was the best in her class that day. The teacher made her a bracelet out of stickers as a reward. But my big daughter has been “cheating”, while she was in Shanghai her grannie, Ma, had given her lots of homework everyday. Ma was the accountant for the bus company you see, when I 1st visited Shanghai in 2000 I had been in her office and there is a photo of me trying to safe crack her safe, the bus company safe. My daughter has in fact got a photo of Ma and my wife with the safe behind them on her bedside table. Ma’s brother a former journalist also gave my daughter homework while she was visiting his house for a few days. So it was that combination of Chinese discipline and love, that had helped her so much. Now she is in bed asleep, the smell of paint is slowly drifting towards me though 2 doors are firmly closed, but in the morning I will have a new bathroom, so much better compared to when I did it. Being married these past few years has given me an appreciation of the finer things in life, and one of them is to know when to “allow” my wife to dabble with a paintbrush. We just have to make sure the girls don’t touch anything in the morning. I should say that one thing I go get my girls to do every night is to say their prayers. At the moment there is a little girl of about their age who has just been diagnosed with cancer, so I ask my girls to pray for her. They say that a sinner’s prayers are golden , a child’s prayers are golden too, so if any of you who are reading this can spare some time then DO pray for that child. I remember back in 1998 I was in Paris and I stumbled on a funeral and they were saying that the deceased was a traveller and there I was a traveller at his funeral, so of course I prayed for him. So now I ask the same of you, please pray for this child.
Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow I may have a new job, I’ve been redundant 8 weeks tomorrow. I could be getting a new job with a different Law Firm. All I need is a new lick of paint and then I’ll be ready for the rest of my life. It would be a good birthday present too, that’s all I have to say tonight, except buy some paint brushes for the Love in your life.
72. From Shanghai to Birmingham
My girls are home at last after 8 weeks in Shanghai, so I’m no longer Home Alone. I’m not like the kid in the film, I’m a grown up, or so I’m told. My 2 small daughters plus the wife were in Shanghai visiting the Mother-in-Law, or Ma as we all call her. My smallest shed a few tears as she missed me so much. My big daugher as I call the other one discovered the joys of IM, so she could send me messages. We did use the camera as well, and the voice aspect too. One daughter spoke to me while the other sent cartoons and silly things via IM, I got my big daughter to practice “the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy blue dog” as an exercise. I can remember my brother doing that 30years ago or more when he taught himself typing and Pitman shorthand.
My parents could never dream of such modern technology, text, voice, and full voice and camera. If you saw a postman once in a blue moon, now that was something special, though that was back in 1920s/30s Country Kerry. Now the generations have moved on, technology is king. My kids went to the zoo and saw not 1 but 3 pandas and one was a baby panda. Something big to boast about when they return to primary school in a few days time. They also went to the new beach by Ma’s house. There wasn’t one there 10years ago when I first visited, so they decided to build one and charge people 30RMB each to use it. It looked nice on the photos they emailed me, however as its that part of the world you do have to be careful, because there are small sharks around. A great experience for such small children, they have come home speaking even more Shanghai dialect. They moved around too and spent time at various houses belonging to uncles and aunties. The Film uncle, the USA uncle, the Army uncle, the Taxi uncle, I cannot pronounce the names so we have shorthand to explain who is who. I have a Chinese name, Panzi, it means FAT FAT BOY, because I’m so big compared to the Chinese side of the family. They also saw Google cousin, because she and her husband work for Google. They did go to the Irish pub and send me a photo showing them enjoying themselves, I think that should be classed as torture, there I was Home Alone while they were in the Irish Pub in Shanghai, its near the US Embassy if ever you are over there.They came home via Frankfurt, and 2 bags got lost because of equipment failure, but luckily the bags appeared, along with my wife/kids’ treasure, shoes, a bag of shoes. I got a silk duvet, and that is a great great treasure, and what was the final treasure brought all the way from Shanghai, a big wok.
p.s. The house is so noisy again after 8 weeks of silence!
73. What makes me smile
We all have different views on what is funny. Americans seem to like custard pie humour, where the joke is telegraphed.Pie face pie face, custard pie in face.Say like Laurel and Hardy. Over here in England its a bit different. I can remember Monty Python starting on TV, I was in 1st or 2nd year of Grammar school. We had to explain to our French teacher what was all this “woody” business, Monty who? was his reply. Different styles of humour work in different different places. As you all know a baby can hear while in the womb. So why does our youngest daughter have such a good sense of humour. Was it because of us her parents,her West meets East in her blood. you know what we think, while my wife was visiting she was 7/8 months pregnant, so the unborn baby heard her Chinese grandad making jokes and making everybody laugh. So that at an early age she is a mimic and makes us laugh, michaelgracycasey she calls me, putting on a deep voice and reciting what my prayer is, let my comedy book be published and can we have a bigger house, please god. And pumping up her shoulders too. This makes us laugh and is a natural thing, a 5 year old cannot be taught this. My own dad used to say “your ear is very near me”, which was an implied threat, so it told us to behave. Me and my sister remember this and laugh, a 40year old laugh, I have told my own kids this and the smallest says it back to me in her deep voice. So it will pass down the generations, a remembrance, a prayer almost.
I was a concierge in a 4star deluxe hotel for 3years, this job gave me plenty of time to watch and learn from people. It also gave me a chance to practice my stand up while dealing with people. In the main I could make most people smile. It is a different art compared to writing or straight presenting, if you can do one it doesn’t mean you can do the other. But if you smile at people they do tend to smile back, so if you start with a smile then you cannot go far wrong.
74. Down my Street turn left to reach the world
They say that 100 years ago a man knew 2 blocks North, 2 blocks South, 2 blocks East and 2 blocks West. Or back in Ireland as far as the market and back to the farm. No doubt the same in England. World War One changed everything, their innocence was taken away from them, no virgin on a wedding night. But rape as the guns fired over no mans land. Men came home with tales of woe, tales of Paris and drinking by the Seine. Tales of Mud and Death, they never spoke of because it was too much of a torment.
The small world of the village was swept away. Buses came along and linked village to town, the railway too. A small world was changed into a bigger world. Radio was invented, the wireless as it was called. The world could reach into every nook and cranny of the isolated village.Was it the work of the Devil, this radio. Newspapers too, not to mention the fact that more people could read. Isolation did not exist any more. Then came the Cinema, the Flicks as it was called because the films flickered. Everybody’s world was changed, everybody had a bigger and bigger world view. It was like a walled garden that had its walls removed. No longer a cosy world, but the winds of change, the winds of communication. The walls came tumbling down, the walls came tumbling down. You would need to be a hermit, or a monk hidden away on top of a mountain on an island that was lost at sea, then and only then could you have a sheltered existance. TV came along, black and white then colour. Then cable and satelite and then HD. Not to mention computers and Internet, perhaps living on the dark side of the moon is the only place to be, IF you want solitude. For my street is the world, and all its news.
75. The Invisible Diet
I’m big, my boss calls me “the big man”. Some may say “fat”, I’ll stick with big. I am 3stones heavier than I look which I suppose is good. 3 stones is18 to 20 kilos, that in itself is the weight of a growing child, or one suitcase ready for international travel. My fat is not wobbly fat, so I don’t look like a jelly, its tight fitting fat. Makes me sound so glamourous, you can see my photo on this site so you can be the judge. Just big, or big boned as some fat people say. Me, I’m just big, so let’s leave it at that, you don’t want me to cry do you. I did have a compliment from my Chinese masseusse, she told my wife that all my skin was tight, so there you have it from a Phd a Chinese doctor.
Now what if I could share with you knowledge which will make you all lose 1/2 a stone, that’s 7lbs is you are an American or 6 tubs of margarine if you are metric.
So how do you lose weight? You just don’t try, and then as if by magic you lose weight. A Muslim friend at work SR, explained Ramadan to me. I said for Lent I’d just give up chocolate or something. Very easy compared to Muslim fasting. That was when I was a kid, now old age and so on meant…
So I agreed to give up Chocomilk from the company drinks machine. The drinks were free and we did work in a very hot print room. So I gave up my favourite drink for Lent. I still carried on drinking, but only the squash, not the nice and carolie laden Chocomilk. After a few days I did not miss my favourite drink, and the weight just fell off. Though another friend was quick to mention that M&S had just closed its sandwich shop near the office, so I was having smaller and not as nice snadwiches. That he thought may be the real reason why my trousers were looser, whatever the reason, once my friend had come back from holiday with a new bride, he saw the difference. Mainly with my thinner face.
So what is the moral of the story? If I can lose 1/2 a stone then so can anybody else, I did not look at any magazines or starve myself as girls do. It was the lazy man’s diet and it worked. So here I am still Big but happier looking more and more like George Clooney.Look at my photo and judge for yourself, more photos can be googled.
76. Food For Thought
Think AS You Watch TV (c)
By Michael Casey
As we sit in our armchairs watching the news , do we care what is going on over there , in some place hot , too hot to think about , or too cold to bear , ice and snow everywhere . Are we just waiting for the sports report , are we waiting to see was the battle hard or a walkover , did our favourite player score a home run , or 10 touchdowns , were the crowd , the audience behind him , did we win 100dollars from the bet we had on the side . In the interviews after the war was won , were we just watching to see the design on the teams shirt , is that a new logo , is that the same logo spruced up . Or is it a new logo entirely , does it make any difference in how the team played , or just another million dollars in the owners pocket , paid by us the audience , the fans , just so we can all look so identical . The reporters are screaming loudly , half excited and half in fear , they want to watch , they want to cover their eyes , but they are there so they must report . Are they in some arid desert , or in some cold cold place , pain and fear and hope etched on their face , are they in some war zone , or at the stadium , if all we heard were just their words , could we tell the difference , do we care , so long as we can switch it all off with our remote control .
Just a little food for thought , you can read my Betting On Disaster
77. Education always reach for the Stars
Where I was born and grew up, is only 2miles or so from where I live now. I was born in the shadow of a brewery and ended up working for a Market Research company doing research into alcohol sales and I was a shandy drinker. Do you want a girlie I was asked when we went to the pub, sadly the barman died early, so you can pray for him.My father, my dad was a blacksmith and my mum was a farm girl. Both from County Kerry, the best county, just you ask any Irishman. My dad was apprenticed to a Blacksmith in Rathmore, in 1995 we went back an rediscovered the very place next to a new road. The blacksmiths had turned into a hairdressers and the store had been demolished. My dad always spoke fondly of the blacksmith. That blacksmith never had any children, but my dad was treated as family. Go out woman to the henhouse and see has the hen laid. This would be about 1935/6.It there were 3 eggs then they all had one. If 2 the blacksmith did without , and if only 1 egg was laid my dad got it. This is how “family” should be. In 1944 my dad came to England and the steelworks in Brasshouse Lane. For 40 years he endured the heat, 400degrees beside the furnace. You could lose 1/2 a stone a day in sweat. My dad ofter did 12hour shifts and sometimes 16. So coming from that he always wanted his children to do better, EDUCATION was the key and it still is. I remember asking him what subjects I should dowhen we did the 3rd year split. His answer was I don’t know, but do what you like but do your best. Now perhaps that should be written on every blackboard throughout the country. My dad had a large family and he loved and encouraged us. So imagine his pride when in 1968/9 one son went to the best university in the land. Then a few years later another son went to the opposition best university in the land. Today do kids listen to ignorant teachers, back at our grammar school we were encouraged. And mum always said you are as good as anybody. Me I’m the failure I’m just a Wordsmith.
78. My stories, my babies
My site, this site disappeared for a few days, a few thoughts passed through my mind. Have I lost my “babies” my “work” my “stuff”. For anybody that writes, be it me who writes simply hoping for a bigger audience once I’m discovered, or say for the Google Librarian in charge of millions of books. Worthy books and all kinds of everything, the one word passes through your mind “OH HOTDOGS” as the astonauts used to say. However I used to be a computer operator back in 78, yes 1978, I was still just a teenager then. And the “one thing” as Glen Beck is fond of saying, the “one thing” I learnt was NEVER NEVER NEVER trust a computer, always but always have lots of backup.We were a very small outfit to start with but then we taken over. And in the beginning we flew by the seat of our pants as early pilots used to. So at work we kept 3 generations of backup, first of Magnetic tape then many years later on super8 video then data storage tape. AT home over 20 years ago when I first started to write I had not one but 2 photocopies of my book. Then when I decided that a typewriter was old fashioned I moved to an Atari 520 which a few years later I updated to an Atari 1040, my friends were into games bigtime so that was their recommendation. I only needed a word processor but I took their advice anyway. It was very expensive 300pounds or 480dollars at todays exchange rate, and that was nearly 20years ago. Yes a fool and his money are soon parted. Our lust for writing soon means money departing. Now I had my own computer then, so did I have 3 generations of security. NO, I had TEN. My stories, my babies were the most important thing in the world to me, so I always too 10 copies on floppy disc and scattered them all over my house. When I finally finished my book The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker I even hid one in the family home. So if there was theft or fire I’d still have my back up. I’d leant from the antics at work, always but always have back up. Moving onto the Internet age, I hide/store/conceal/save whichever is the correct word, my writing is in Cyberspace so that it should survive anything as its on servers on the 4 corners of the globe. Which book would you chose to save in Cyberspace. On Desert Island Discs the Radio4 show on the BBC they ask that question in a manner of speaking. The Bible and Shakespeare is given to you and then you can chose a book. Would I be conceited and chose me own book. No, yes really, no, because you know your own book so well and you can create more windmills in your mind so easily as more pieces of the jigsaw appear in your mind that nobody would chose their own book, well perhaps some Hollywood types. So what would I chose. Probably a History book, I once wanted to be a History teacher, and my own History teacher did recommend Don Camillo to me, a comic priest tale from Italy.In some ways I hope my writing is like Don Camillo, a mythical place with comic, English meaning of comic, goings on, If finally somebody says my stuff is comic.Then then I have finally made myself understood
Thats all Folks as Bugs Bunny used to say or was it OH CARROTS
79.Fat Man’s exercise and food shopping
Well I start my new life today. I’m redundant and looking for a new job, so I have my plan to follow. I will walk to the top of Bearwood every day, it 10mins there and 10 mins back, so it might be 2k altogether, or 1.25miles on the way I browse in the shops but spend nothing as I have to watch the pennies until I get a new job. On the way back I do my shopping. I look for bargains, such as gamon instead of sliced bacon, fresh orange juice at half price, yoguart as a treat and at the lower original price. Cereals too because they are quick first thing in the morning. Not forgetting green bananas that will ripen for when I’m ready to eat them. Cheap 1/2 price pizza too and 1/2 price cheese that I can slice and add to the pizza to make them nicer. Milk is always good so 3litres of that as well and some sweet corn for good measure. All in all my week’s shopping. I used to work for ACNielsen a long time ago and they would put me in the opportunist shopper bracket, no brand loyalty just a vulture so to speak Once home some 1/2 price coffee from when I stocked up before then its on to the Internet to trawl through the job websites.Staying positive is the name of the game. Apply for nice jobs that will speak to my heart, as well as apply for jobs that will just feed me. Now at my age, I’m 20 in my head, but my birth certificate says otherwise, I’d like somewhere where I can stay till I can retire, hopefully with a lottery win in 3hours time, but failing that till regular retirement age. However with politicians being so bad as they are, and the economy too, I imagine I’ll be 92 before I can retire, which leaves only 8 years to have fun. I always said I’d like to live tilll I was 100.So where will I end up? God alone knows, and he doesn’t talk to me any more, perhaps I should listen more and then I’ll hear his voice. Though I can say that when you do listen you can come up with inspired poetry which some may say comes from God. You can find several such pieces scattered all over this site, or in my 2nd book Essays and Plays.
That’s all for today, I hope it doesn’t pour tomorrow because whatever the weather I must do my walk, just to blow away the cobwebs and who knows I may come up with a new poem I can share on this blog. I find IF I can get the first line then the rest just pours out, poetry is harder than anything else. Writing a book is much easier, its getting published that takes decades. Cheerio from sunny Birmingham as the clock strikes six.
80. Die Hard 4.0 or how to use talents
WE just finished watching Die Hard 4.0 on the tv. We all really enjoyed it. The story reveolved around people taking over all of the computer networks in the USA. There was loads of action but what made me think was how would you deal with hackers?
In England we have a man with a form of autism who just after 911 he broke into USA computers, because he was looking for news of ETs, it was his hobby. He has been dragged through English courts and finally he will be sent to USA where he could go to jail for a long time.
So the question is why weren’t the USA computers hack proof. Was it because they weren’t tested? Was it arrogance? Me, if I were the USA authorities, I’d give the guy a job and let him explain just how he did it. Or is it empty pride? It would be far cheaper than sticking him in jail. I’m sure if those of you who are in the USA are reading this and you stop to think you agree with me. War Games is a film from 10 to 20 years ago when teenage hackers get into NORAD. A similar them.
When I eventually get around to writing Tears For A Butcher my follow up comedy novel, then in that book there will be a handicapped person who is a whiz on IT. There body may be mal formed but their brain is not. In my story its to show that we shouldn’t put people in a dustbin because we are ignorant about them. And arrogant towards them. In my story those IT whizes do get offered a great job working for the USA, why because they did what was in Die Hard 4.0, by the way I thought up my plot line before I saw the film. Also in the follow up book two twin sisters find their first boyfriends, and who do these Venuses pick. Do they chose football heros with bulging muscles, but maybe no brains. NO these two Venuses chose a guy with a limp and the other pick has a severe stutter.
Why do I chose to make my characters in my book behave in such a way? I want people who see the true worth of people. Its not the smile, all flashing perfect teeth. A better person may have bad teeth and bad breath. A real hero is not all “Hollywood”, its the guy in the garage who fixes your car. Its the fat middle age lady who is the crossings lady when you take your kids to and from school. Its you when you deliberately start a conversation with the lonely old lady on the bus. Your very words are warmth to her soul. She’ll smile and get off the bus and wave to you. She’ll talk about you to her cat when she gets home. You have been the one ray of sunshine in her day.
These are ordinary people who make up our world. Some will have talents which God has sprinkled randomly, just to remind us that all are loved by him. Even me, even you.
81. Shakespeare in Love and various other thoughts
We just watched Shakespeare in Love the 1998 film. It was very good and I enjoyed the music too. The passion for words and the wheeler dealing was funny too. I think Dame Judy Dench got an Oscar for it too, forgive me if I’m wrong. The Passions and Pain was all revealed too, I’d forgotten how good the film was. A long time ago I did a course on Shakespeare, you have to try and understand the style of the language too, the metaphors and old English language. All in all a very good film, with even a young Ben Afleck in it. So grab and pizza and get a copy from your local video store.
What Shakespeare also reminded me was how we all need to communicate to each other. If Joe knows cars then we speak in car metaphors. It not patronising its socialising, when I was working at the hotel 5 years ago if we had Scots visitors then the word “wee” would slip into my language it was the natural thing to do. We even had Top Cops conferences so I’d share a joke with a Chief Constable or two as I walked around the hotel on a security patrol. The joke was we had a sniper on the roof to keep petty car thieves away. We did have the most secure car park on the NEC site. The NEC is the biggest exhibition site in Europe, and bigger than the one in New York, so I’ve been told.
If talking to chefs you always listen with respect not just because the were masters in their field but because chefs have knives, lots of knives so its always best to have respect. The housekeeping crew knew everything about cleaning rooms and corridors, so I’d share a word while I did my 30 mins patrols that took me everywhere. Some days I might even be helping them when the hotel was ultra busy. So I’d stay out of Vicky’s way by cleaning the bathrooms while she cleaned the bedrooms. Its very hard work, but there is a sense forfillment when a corridor has been done. 15 rooms a day I think it was, though it could have been 20. I’d take off my front of house jacket and roll up my sleeve and put the rubber gloves on while I was on bathroom duty. My dec phone might ring then I’d be summons downstairs to help out at front of house. Its all like a mad and busy ballet, though I’ve never worn a tutu, though I have been positively vetted by a Chinese ballet dancer when I first met my wife, but that’s another story.
Life is all about stories, if my story is appealing to another person then we may become friends, to others it may be boring and go on forever, so then I’m a bore. Its how our lives connect and how social jigsaws fit together that makes us all work as friends and as work mates. Sadly there are people who put themselves above us, it can be a boss or a priest in church or the snob selling newspapers in the street. Life is about blowing bubbles in the air that blow this way and that way, they may stick together or blow randomly all over the shop. But bubbles are a glorious thing they make us like children, happy and innocent and willing to share our sweets. I’m forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air is the song. But the most important thing is the range of colours, the joy, the happiness that bubbles bring, just like Shakespeare’s sonnets.
82. If I were a fashion writer.
To begin with let me explain. I was trawling through the jobs sites when I came across an ad looking for all kinds of everything for a Fashion Mag, non paid I might add. So it set me thinking. I do have a Shanghai wife who sets heads turning, and I have to comment on all the fashion she wears.So after more than 10 years I have learnt a little about Fashion.
I would no doubt be called Grandpa whenever I attended a Fashion Event, I have the same white hair that the famous fashion designer has, I don’t wear gloves with the fingers cut off though. Though I do have thinsulate gloves in black and in red. Just as he has two colours. My waiste line is bigger, I’m as big as 2 models, though you would never see me in purple lipstick and covered in rouge. Fishnet tights though, that’s another matter, Men in tights and Pantomime is an English tradition. Google Pantomime if you have not heard of Panto. Men dress up as women and women dress up as men, perhaps as Robin Hood. Its fun for all the family. But I was talking about fish net tights before I was side tracked. Fashion makes a very big statement. Some of the high end fashion is not really fashion. It really is a work of Art. I saw a documentary once on TV and after watching the man with the funny gloves and the white hair go about his work I realised it really was Art and not just Fashion. Now what would I do at a fashion show? I’d drink the free champagne for starters, pity they don’t serve hot dogs too, then I’d be in heaven. Some of the designers destroy what they are trying to achieve by too much hideous make up. The fashion really would be better served by well dressed dummies. Smearing a beautiful models with soot just destroys the vision. The dead eyes that you see when models walk the cat walk is terrible. Yes Fashion is King, but if the models looked happy and you could almost believe that they all fought to get into the dress they were wearing. Then you’d say, she looks so happy wearing that you can see the joy in her eyes. Then Fashion would be better served.
There are other designs which are truly great but they are ruined because the colour palet is so bad. Its like when you see 2009 Punk Rockers, I remember the original ones 30 years ago so today’s versions are just so passe. You can go into a shop and as you look around you see 40 shades or grey or 20 shades of black. Its not even worth trying the clothes on. Ditto when you can see the clothes are for 40 or 50 somethings. Colour is Great, so USE IT, life is in Colour so lets see it in the designs.
Women are beautiful and the more intelligent 1/2 of our species, their beauty should be celebrated and enhanced by fashion. Colour and Cut matched to sympathic makeup will make women glow, and allow women to wrap men around their little finger even more. Good fashion does this and I know that when I look at my wife.
83. BBC asks top writer to take course on drama
BBC asks top writer to take course on drama. I just read that in today’s Telegraph. I’m trying to get my foot in the door in the writing game. I once posted my Internet Story comic essay on a BBC site, where it was removed, why, because
“And help find a publisher for my book , and then you’ve guessed it , just send me 10 dollars !” Is the tag line for the joke at the end of the essay. But to the BBC I was soliciting money, so they removed it. If I had a Bafta and had the BBC telling me how to write , I’d slam it down on the desk of the idiot who asked me to do a test and ask them to write a thesis on “How to win a Bafta”. Total BBC Idiots,
Sorry Moses you cann’t part the Red Sea without Health and Safety assessment 1st. And as for that stick in your hand we will notify the Police, weapons are not allowed. As for you Gandalf, drop it now or we’ll try this new mace on you, we’ve just imported it from USA.
Sorry no Loaves and Fishes or Water into wine either, you don’t have A3 consent.
Sorry Gordon and David, those speeches have to pass the censor, and don’t forget the 3pm watershed, we don’t want kids home from school getting all confused, which one is the liar, is it always the one in Government or is it just the Opposition.
So the BBC has to bore everybody with fair and balance just like Fox news. Sadly I am not surprised, perhaps the stuff I write is never PC, so it will never be published or produced. www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
is where to find it, so judge for yourselves. My latest idea is to turn my non PC play Shoplife into a Health and Safety piece by using reverse logic
84. Under My Bed
What’s under your bed? We used to have an airline pilot stay at the hotel who would open his room door and leave his flight bag down proping the door open while he then rolled an orange under the bed. He said he travelled all over the world and this was his safety routine. If you go to a bad hotel you may find an uneaten Kentucky Fried Chicken still in its box, under your bed. Normally its an odd shoe or sock, if the housekeeping crew are trained well you will never ever find any of these things. Having cleaned a few rooms myself when I was at a 4star deluxe hotel for 3 years, I can say it is hard work and you have to be fast and furious. But so long as the hotel gets 6 quid or 10 dollars for the room then they are in profit.
But all of this is an aside, what’s under your bed? We decorated a few years ago and I had hundreds and hundreds of photos in photo albums. We took down a couple of shelves while we decorated, but then we had a problem, one of them broke. The one which had all my photo albums on. I hadn’t really looked at all these photos in years, so the bin beckoned. However I decided I’d keep them. So where to put them. Under the bed was the solution, we had an old suitcase so I put all my photos away. It must have weighted 25 kilos, or 55 pounds or 4stones in English terminology, which is as much as my big daughter weights, talking of weight my wife only weights 6 stones, light enought to be a jockey. Now there’s an idea, my uncle Patrick used to keep a donkey just to cut the grass around the house in County Kerry. My wife could have become a jockey, if only my uncle and the donkey were still around. Life is all about timing after all.
So grunting and groaning I carried the old suitcase upstairs and slid it under my bed. There it remained for years. Two children later and today our smallest one wanted to look at all the photo albums, the ones we keep in the pantry. Though technology has moved on now and we have maybe 1000 photos on the computer and in cyperspace on our family site. But our smallest likes to see herself when she was even smaller. So I decided to drag out the suitcase and show both our girls photos of me from 25years ago and so. We had snaps from when my sister did her year abroad, from when my brother lived in Paris. There were lots of photos, 10 small albums of County Kerry, donkey included. All my cousins, my dad’s brother had 10 children after all, my mum had 5 surviving brothers and sisters. There were photos of the beach at Cromane , my cousin’s son measured the distance from the corner of the house to the sea, just over 7 metres he said, or about 23feet in old money. I remembered the Love my aunty showed to all of us, she was always the driver, 1000miles in 2 weeks seeing all the clan, she is truely blessed. From the base in Killarney to all points North/South/East/West you could put on a stone,or 14pounds in 2 weeks, 3 relatives a day, 3 meals a day. All my cousins were always so generous and welcoming, there was always so much gossip and stories to be heard.
All this lived in suspended animation in a suitcase under my bed. They all awoke like a Princess in a Fairytale story when I dragged out the old suitcase today. My girls said I looked so cool with my sunglasses and my moustache. I told them I was younger than mummy is when the photo was taken. Why did everybody have a moustache in them days?
I also found my copy of The Outline Of History By H.G.Wells , signed by Mr Lester the headteacher from my Primary school. It was a leaving present, believe it or not I was Head Boy at Primary school, it was a bit like being a jailer really, as I had the keys to the building and I locked up at dinner time. I also found a certificate from 1969 because I wrote a story for a competition, Junior Free Handwriting Story something. This impressed my big daughter.
I found my mothers prayerbook with lots of religious pictures inserted into the pages. Mrs Murphy in my novel, The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker is based on my mum, but not just her but my Aunty in Killarney and the 2 other sisters. So my fictional Mrs Murphy is to the power of 4. While I’m thinking of it, I deliberately did not write about my dad in my book, however after I finished it I realised that Big Sid the butcher he was my dad. Not because of any similarities whatsoever, but, the Love Sid has is the same Love that my dad had for all of us. Love is how you judge people, anything else is s*&%.
I also found a nice little book about Saint Martin de Porres, I’ll try and get my daughter to read it, it must be 30 years old. All in all a lot of memories came flooding outjust because I looked under my bed. The suitcase I threw away, the history book is back on the remaining bookshelf just beside me. I found a large strong plastic sack and I put my photos back in the bag. The only thing I had to decide was where to put it. You know what I thing I’ll put it back under my bed. Memories to sleep on
85. Wrapping Paper
I was in Aldi and I spotted Winnie the Pooh wrapping paper, my smallest girl just loves all things Winnie the Pooh, so I got the paper. I wasn’t sure whether to wrap her Birthday present in it or just let her have the paper. In the end I gave her the paper to play with. She was delighted, immediately she wanted to use the wrapping paper to wallpaper the walls with. As I’ve said before she once said she liked Winnie the Pooh because his belly reminded her of my belly. Such is a child’s love, unflattering but love.
It did get me thinking though, why do we need wrapping paper? Packaging is part and parcel of ordinary life. Easter eggs are the thing with the most packaging, so much packaging and then so little chocolate. My mother gave up on Easter Eggs because of the cost, there were so many of us Caseys after all. So we had bars of Cadburys chocolate instead, the Cadburys factory is just a couple of miles from where I’m sitting. Easter came and we devoured the Cadburys bars, cheaper than the Easter Eggs but so very tasty.
People have wrapping paper or layers all around them,we can all remember what Donkey said to Shrek, so many layers like an onion. At the moment I’m dressing up in the wrapping paper called a “suit”, so that I can get a new job. So people can see me at my best, hide my tummy and hope they forgive my premature white head of hair, as for my bushy eyebrows God alone knows what they may think. You can judge for yourselves by clicking on the photos on this site. How much do you reveal, how much do you hide as you have an unnatural experience that is called an interview. Perhaps interviews should take place in a coffee shop, as you may know LLoyds of London started in a London coffee shop 100s of years ago. Even better interviews could be held in a bar. You have two pints to prove your worth, so don’t spill the peanuts over the interviewer’s haut couture dress. Perhaps then at the 2nd interview you have to sing karoki with the 2 interviewers, and IF you can sing My Way word perfect then you get the job. It sure would be more fun.
More wrapping paper is used when we are embarrassed or too shy to explain things to our doctor, we waste 5 mins talking about the weather and the Fall leaves before we finally blurt out that its a boil on the bum ort something below the waistline. And why is it that on these occasions the doctor on call is one of the opposite sex, why cann’t it be your usual doctor.
Wrapping paper is used an awful lot in Faith, we lie to ourselfs and our God/Gods by thinking we don’t have to do this or we don’t have to do that. Faith can become a Buffet, we lie to ourselves and God, this bit does not matter, so we’ll show God only so much of ourselves. A bit like cheating in an exam. I’m sure God’s smiling as he watches us, perhaps the Saints place bets on who will finally come clean, clean being the opperative word. The Saints queue up ready to interven, which 999 or 911 call will come though so that a Saint can be dispatched. I know in1996 when my mum had died suddenly and then 8 bare weeks later my dad was given 1 week to live, we actually picked the hymns for his funeral he was so bad. Then all the layers, all the wrapping paper was off, Padre Pio came to the rescue. So that I met my wife in the old peoples’ home, 3 years after my dad came back from the dead. Dad lived long enough to hold his granddaugher in his arms, 5.5 years after that massive heart attack.
The ultimate wrapping paper is love, its hard to say you love somebody when your heart has been broken so many times before. Its hard to take a chance when somebody might laugh in your face. Slowly you reveal one thing, then another, then another, yes I can see the idea of a Monty Python joke as I write this. I do write comedy after all. But when 2 strangers become friends, when 2 become one, then all the wrapping paper is off. She may not mind your hairy back or fat stomach, he may not mind her big feet or whatever she feared. It can turn out that what one thinks is ugly your Love may find attractive. Love is Blind after all, Love conquers All, Love is all you need. Together naked, the wrapping paper is discarded.
86. The White Door
The White Door, or the dirty white door to be exact. I had a dream last night and I saw a door, a dirty white door. There were two nails driven into it in the top left hand corner of it. That’s all I remembered, we do have 2 white doors in our house but neither are like that.
So what was I dreaming about? Years ago I had a dream dictionary, I would have eagerly read that to find out. So instead I’ll have to use the Internet, google will have an answer no doubt.
I’ve said for years that I’d only get a real publisher IF somebody opened the door for me. A negative friend always says you have to make your own opportunities. I take the view that its not ability but knowing somebody, the old saying, its not what you know but who you know.
I knocked on loads of doors via emails, but still after 20 years no publisher for my novel. A friend said its not just a door but maybe a window I’d may have to sneak my talent through a window before I finally got my chance, before my boat comes in.
My smallest daughter said she had a dream last night too, she dreamt we moved house to the big white house we walk past daily on the school run, and that we had a cat and a dog. The dog will be called Subway. She was all excited as she told me. Children just love animals, but I’ve said no animals till we get a bigger house. Somebody somewhere has to find me and like me, and then publish me before our dreams can come true. Or my 32 year old lottery ticket could finally come up trumps, thought I doubt it.
You never know whats around a corner my old boss once told me a long time ago, she was right, I met the wife in a most unbelieveable way. Its all in Padre Pio and Me and my Literary Criticism essays. Doors can be opened and closed, closed in your face. For 3 years I stood by a door when I worked at a 4star deluxe hotel, the whole world passed through as I was a 30 second living commercial for the hotel. Best 3 years of my life in a way.
Doors in the mind are the best doors to open, because they free you to experience more, I’m not talking about taking pills or whatever, just in case any Old Hippies are out there and reading this. Just open your heart and you will open a door to experience more, to remove barriers that leave you in a box, full of your own prejudices. Think of it as food, we always have this and we always have that. Because thats the way we have always done things. Then we meet somebody different and our food world changes, our doors are open. Imagine me meeting a Shanghai girl 10 years ago , I told her fish and chips was haute cuisine. Now you need a degree in oriental languages to know what’s what in our fridge. The kids love going to Subway as its a change from daily Chinese food. Thats why if ever we move house the dog will be called Subway.
I’ll leave it at that now, though I can say that Fear opened one door for me. I was so affraid of my Primary school teacher when I was 8 that I started to read books, and it changed my life. Getting an old Bush radio from one of our lodgers also opened another door for me, expanding your mind is a great adventure. If you are lucky it leads to a corridor full of doors and opportunities. I suppose writing these blogs as well as the essays and plays and the comic novel is a door too, you the reader are seeing into my mind, I just hope you like the view.
87.
Where do the tears go when they are shed ©
By
Michael Casey
Where do the tears go when they are shed
While I lie here crying on my bed
Do the tears drip drip away and seep though
The floorboards and head for the sea.
Do my tears join an ocean that rises and falls
Do the tears yell and scream but only sea farers
Hear them, do whales moan as they crash through them
Only whales know of my distress as my tears groan
In deep deep oceans in the unknown dark deep seas.
Do my tears head north to the North Pole and Santa
Does Santa Ho Ho Ho so much because he is trying to drown out
The cries and sobs and tears held back for so many years.
Do tears form ice shelves and become icebergs, silent and majestic
Like giant cathedrals of ice. Is this the way to silent the voice of tears.
Frozen in Time for 100s of years, the fears of today and yesterday are merged
As one, gagged for eternity in an ice cathedral.
Will everything be forgot, deep freezed, quick frozen like garden peas.
Do my tears evaporate and head for the sky, joining the clouds as they pass by.
Are my tears blown this way and that, are they taken far away over the ocean.
As planes pass through the clouds that are my tears, can the passengers hear
Can the passengers hear my tears, all my hopes and fears, or are my tears
Drowned out by the in flight movie, 007 killing my prayers to heaven.
Do my tears wash away my pain, my guilt, are they like mothers’ milk?
For tears touch us all, they are like a morning mist that shrouds us.
For tears are the dark dark night of the soul, a cold coat that covers us.
In the morning we remember we fell asleep crying, but what of now?
Now we’ve looked at our dead mum’s photo and think of what she would have said.
We smile as we remember, her fight, her love, her spirit, her smile.
But never tears, she shed no tears for us, she shed no tears for us.
Tears will come, tears will come again, but they are just water, we are stronger
Than mere water, we have a boat and that boat is Love.
**** I had this poem in my head so tonight I tried to a nail it down
88. A_Famous_Life_an_Expired_Life_Words_from_Beyond_The_Grave
I did my best, I tried to live a holy life, thinking of the next life and not tied to this. But now I’m gone you turn me into an icon, I get 15minutes of fame, after I’m dead, but those 15minutes last forever. I wanted a humble grave, a quiet send off, only a brass band turned up. People spoke kind words about me, some even meaning them, but for what? For vanity, for care, for compassion to those I left behind, or to make themselves important by association. I’m just a signpost pointing the way, go higher, don’t stop at me, the signpost, go higher. Go to heaven itself, not this ornate graveyard, with people selling tee shirts with my name on. Go higher.
I’m just a mother so remember me well, don’t fight with one another, love one another and help each other, if you want to remember me then remember those words of mine. And I’m not angry with you any more, for that joke about Thomas being the ideal name for an aethist. Breath the fresh air, sit on the grass in our small garden and remember how as kids we all cut that grass by using small pairs of sissors because we couldn’t afford a lawn mower. Life goes on without me, I never saw those pretty girls of yours, but God lets us see things sometimes, and yes you are right I would have spoilt them if only I had lived to see them. But my passing led to dad going into the old folks home, and it was there where you met you wife, at least he held the 1st girl in his eyes before he was called into Paradise. And do you know they have a beautiful garden there, and for fun we are allowed to cut the grass with sissors, one blade at a time. So enjoy your life and enjoy your family. Those prayers you said for years brought tears to Heaven, and then by chance at a letter box she met a man who ran the home, and that’s why she was there waiting for you, waiting for you all the time, love is no crime. Hope and Tears and love, and I did give cupid a push from above, and I’m so glad you didn’t call anybody Thomas.
89. Pink Floyd, Music and Me
I’ve just watched a biography about Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of The Moon. It was very good, music really is the soundtrack to our lives. Compared to Music, Writing is rubbish, Photography is better than Writing too. The old saying a picture is worth 1000 words rings true. I used to be surgically attached to a camera as my old boss used to say. Any company event and I was there with my camera. Thats no longer true, but I use it to illustrate the fact that I like photos, taking them and composing them. Straight boring photos were people line up, like in 1950s school photos are terrible. Photos should have energy, I did enter a competition to win a nice new Nicon. but I don’t think I’ve won. They wanted a cycle shot, like in Tour de France. I sent in a photo of my daughter, then aged 3, riding a plastic trycical in our back yard, she was wearing her pink pyjamas and some pearls she’d stolen from my wife. If Nicon have a sense of humour then perhaps I’ll win after all. Anyways I hope that proves photos are more powerful than words. Going back to music though, my brother used to have a reel to reel tape recorder and a speaker through which he played music at high volume, to drown out the sound of the rest of us while he was studying. Using this method he got into the best university. So it was then 40years agro that my Love of Music began, at the time it was Cream music, which featured a young Eric Clapton. I still have that speaker in my house. And as for Eric Clapton, I almost carried his bags. Going back to my point though, Music touches us in seconds, a Clapton riff, the first few notes of a piece played by a pianist on a piano, a phrase by Michael Bulee. Musicians have power over us. So much power. Perhaps the caveman who drummed on a skull with a bone from other caveman he’d just eaten; perhaps he, perhaps he excited the cavewoman enough so he could mate with her, and that led to us, and me writing here in Birmingham England and with a press of the button sharing my thoughts with the entire world. So a drumbeat on a skull was the beginning of music, and sex and the continuation of our species. As for writing, thousands of years had to pass before it began and could be used to pass on stories. Storytelling started straight away, as the cavewoman told he sister to get some of the action from the drummer. But the writer as such did not start until thousands of years later. Perhaps that is why Music is deeper within us, and why we hum and whistle or tap tap tap on the steering wheel while we are stuck in traffic. If there are 3 words that can be writtern to compare with the speed of Music’s power, perhaps its ” I Love You” , “I want you”, “Come here….” Words like that, spoken, do have power, but words have to be backed up with better words, stronger words, the words on the page have to ignite to get the reader to read more, to touch the reader. A poem or two of mine can touch people when my poetry is on form, but, but it takes 30seconds for my words to go from the page through somebody’s eyes and then finally touch their heart. And that’s why I’ll always be jealous of drummers, even if the drums are made of leftover skulls from dinner.
90. Tempus Fugit – I am your Future, you are my Past
Its my smallest daughter’s Birthday soon, this got me thinking. My sister sent some presents over in advance and my daughter was delighted with her treasure, even if it wasn’t Winnie The Pooh but some other bear. Eyes lighting up as she went through her bag of treasure, counting out the treasure just like the King in his counting house. Her big sister observing and trying not to get jealous, however she had some treasure of her own, my sister had sent some Maths quiz books over to encourage her with her sums.
This morning they were having a disco in their bedroom, with a DAB radio blasting out Heart at high volume. I had an blue radio with holes in it like a sieve when I was their age, it had MW & LW on it. FM was not the standard yet in those days. IT was while listening to that radio that we heard RFK had been shot, I remember running down stairs to tell me mum, she was in the kitchen, she was always in the kitchen, she fell to her knees and got her rosary beads from her apron pocket.
A few years later Frank who was one of our lodgers went back to Ireland to look after his sick mum, her left all of his stuff behind, a full and heavy suitcase plus a Bush Radio. He eventually came back and said we, thats me and my brother could have the radio. The Bush radio is a classic design. It has a large strip carry handle, like a giant strip of marzipan, it also has a giant saucer dial with grooves in it, and as for the controls they were like dominoes, plus a grooved wheel to turn for volume. That radio changed my life. Why? Well me and my brother used to listen to the World Tonight with Douglas Stuart reporting, which was a 30min news programme from the BBC Radio4 and best of all it was followed by The Book at Bedtime. Because I started to listen to Radio 4 from the age of 10 or so I became addicted to Current Affairs as posh people call it, News to you and me. The stories and plays were great too. Though after 20years of radio plays, The Radio 4 radio play style can have its shine taken off. So that was my thing for 20years or so,I suppose that was what led me to Writing. It also made me realise Radio is better than TV, as far as news goes. Radio has more power and the picture don’t get in the way of the story. IF you try an experiment and listen to a news story then later watch the news and hear the same story, you will realise that the Radio version is better. Those of you in USA may not be able to do this experiment directly, so try closing your eyes and listening to the news, then watch the same piece later. Ears are better than Eyes.
Nowadays DAB radio is the thing, though they use lots of electricity, but the sound quality is so good. So my daughter has a DAB radio and that’s her standard, small radio but high quality. The Bush radio we had was bigger than a cereal box and heavy too, but it did change my life. It was company for me when my brother left home to do his gap year, before gap years were invented, as I struggled with my Latin, my Bush radio was the sound in the background. Though I had music on when I did homework, now as I write this I have music on too but this time its via the computer. Where have all the years gone, I look at my eldest daughter and she looks so much like me when I was small over 40years ago. WE have a joke as we look into each others eyes. “I am your future, you are my past.”
91. What If
I stumbled over this from a few years ago, perhaps you’ll like it. The attachments can be downloaded in seconds and then you can sample my 2 books and a couple of plays. They all go well with a coffee and a donut
What If (c)
By
Michael Casey
What if Today wasn’t the 1st day of a New Year but the last Day of Your Life.
Who would you hug, who would you kiss, who would you miss.
Who would miss you, do you have a clue, and do you know why?
Would your years of striving to be a good writer/teacher/cop or whatever still mean so much to you .
Would you miss making love in a tent high up in the mountains.
Would you miss a real good coffee and donut on 7th and 4th.
Would you miss the sales where you always bought nothing but shoes, shoes for work. But the fun you had with the girls was worth it , because pals are fun.
Would you miss Midnight Mass and Silent Night getting home exhausted and late and crying for your late mother.
Would you be too afraid that you’d not meet her again in the afterlife, or would that be the only hope you’d cling too as you watched the hands on clock sweep around faster and faster.
Would you rail at the world and want to get your gun and shoot those bastards who’d ruined your life in the past , even if all they ever did was steal your parking place, or would you be all sweetness and light, dying peacefully without a fight.
What would be your parting words, would anybody remember you, small kindnesses remembered and rewarded.
Remember thou art dust and to dust thy will return is the Ash Wednesday phrase
Is that how you want to be remembered?
Or he made me laugh, he made me cry but I was always was happy when he was around , I’ll miss him yes , but I’ve not lost him because because a laugh lasts forever.
That is my hope, for the start of this New Year and new day, and everyday because we all should live like today is our last because one fact is certain, one day it will be , so make ’em laugh , make ’em laugh, make ’em laugh
Happy New Year from this Comedy Writer Michael Casey
92. Pick Your Poem + (c) my new childrens book
This is my new childrens book, this is the first page or so, my big daughter is going to do the drawings for it. Perhaps I’ll end up as the new Raold Dahl
Pick Your Poem + (c)
by Michael Casey + Annie
ONE
Dad loves watches, he loves if they sparkle
BUT THE SAD THING IS THEY ALWAYS BREAK.
He told me that he got one for passing the 11 plus
I’m not sure what that is, I think its when you are over 11
So when dad was 11 and 1 day he got a watch. He said it was
from one of the lodgers, Big Jim. Big Jim was like an uncle
to my dad, he gave him things and when Big Jim died dad
got lots of his things. But I was talking to you about watches.
Dad has a very sweaty wrist, so when dad works his wrist gets
sweatier and sweatier. So that the watch steams up, just like
when mum is making rice and the kitchen window steams up, so
mum has to ask dad to open the kitchen window to let the steam
go out. She is very small you see, because my mum is from Shanghai
which is in China, didn’t I tell you that already. Well you know now.
Unlike a kitchen a watch does not have a window to open to let the
steam out, the teacher in school told us that blind people do have
watches with windows, but that’s not to let the steam out, its so the
blind people can touch the time. So really dad should have a watch
like that, then everything would be ok.
The Photo is Mum and Dad a long time ago in the kitchen
Dad has had lots of watches, not just steamed up watches but
he breaks them too. Dad says its because he’s always been carrying
Things,like heavy paper in computer rooms. He even told me that
Computers used to be as big as washing machines, I think he was
telling me lies, computers are as big as books everybody knows that,
so I told him “liar, liar burn in fire” That’s what Irish Grandma
used to say. He said one nightshift the glass came out of his watch,
so dad glued it back on with superglue, only dad glued the hands of
the watch together. Sometimes I think dad is stupid, but then he tells
me stories so he cann’t really be that stupid. Mum says he’s her stupid
and clever husband. Chinese Grandpa sent him a watch and dad hasn’t broke
that one yet, he’s had it 6years perhaps all he needed since the 11 plus
was a Chinese watch then he wouldn’t have broken 20 or more watches.
TWO
Tick toc tick toc
The hands on daddy’s watch go around
The hands are getting dizzy
The hands are going around and around
Tick Tock Tick Tock
The glass is steaming up,
its hot inside this watch.
Tick tock Tic Tock
The hands are slowing down
The hands are slowing down
Its steamier than a bathroom
Inside this watch
Tick Tock Tick Tock
The glass is all steamed up now
Tick Tock STOP
The watch is as quiet as a mouse
The watch has stopped forever
Tick Tock stop
If you like what I’ve done so far then send me an email thanks. Michael
93. The Next Big Thing or how my big daughter told me to write a childreen’s book
The kids finally go to bed and we can hear them rushing around and laughing.We shout up the stairs telling them not to make such noise and be quiet or they will wake the baby next door. But it does make us smile, me especially. Then my big daughter sneaks downstairs to have a chat while the other half of the family sleeps. Its nice, I used to have a “social” with my mum when I was young, she’s sit on the top step of the stairs while I told her all my hopes and dreams, then she’d give me a goodnight kiss and I went to sleep happy. Now over 40 years on I am doing the same thing for my daughter, and not doubt she will do the same with her children. Tonight I was explaining sibling rivalry and how it was really a waste of time, I could never match my brothers and their very high educational standards, I was me and they were them. Could they write a poem such as this:-
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
Well I don’t think so, but they can drive, I have a driver in the form of my wife. So I tried to explain this to my big daughter, how we were all different. Then she got me to put her to bed,and tuck her in, then she said I should write poetry for kids. So there you have it, I’ll be trying to do that. It doesn’t take as long as writing a play ora novel, she said I should put Tears For A Butcher on hold. The 1st chapter is written, and I’ve got ideas for 50% of the rest of the book, but now I think I’ll follow her request. Then she can do the drawing for whatever I come up with. We did think of writing “My Silly Family” a while back, but now while I try to find a job I have a bit of time to try writing poetry and stories for children. So forgive me if I park my new babies on this site. Does anybody remember Edward Lear and his Nonsense Verse from 100 years and more ago, we can all check google for him after I have finished writing this. So basically that’s my next thing to do after I put it on my to do list.
Goodnight and God Bless as my mother used to say in the 60s.
94. Traffic and Bubble Bath
I watched the film Traffic today, I recorded it the other night and left it on our machine, so today I watched it. Everything was understated, it was directed by Steve Sondoberg, I hope I got that right the credits were rolling fast. I was impressed by the good Mexican cop who risked his life so much, he was a very good actor. Michael Douglas also gave a very good performance. His daughter slipped into drugs from being a very rich kid who was bored, in the end she was a hooker to pay for her habit. Very seedy. The style of the film also made in more interesting. How many awards it won I don’t know. I could Google and find out but I’m sure the film buffs reading this will tell me. In the end Michael Douglas realised that his grand job was worth nothing compared to the love of his daughter and his wife for that matter. Family is everything.
Bubble bath is so nice, perhaps some may call me a girl for saying this but it is true. A good old soak in the bath is great, especially with the radio for company. Being like a Hippo for half an hour or until the water is no longer hot IS great. You do come out all wrinkly a lot like a prune but it is great. I know in USA its showers but I think a soak is always nicer. My wife likes sauna, then a shower or a bath when she comes back from the sauna at the bottom of our street. My old uncle Dan in Boston loved the public sauna too back in 1980 I was taken there when I was on holiday. But back to bubble bath, it is a kind of church. Why do I say church, before you have cartoons in your mind let me explain. You are at your most relaxed when you are lying there in a warm environment with nice aromas around you. Its a kind of womb, and if you put your ears under the water then things sound how the outside world sounds to an unborn baby. In the bath or should I say tub, in the bath you can relax and all the day’s problems can dissolve. You are probably closer to your god too, no outside events crowding your time and mind, I’d bet too that people pray more while they are all alone in the bathroom. You are all alone and there are no barriers, you are literally naked before God. No expensive suits and designer jewelry, you cannot be pompous and powerful when you are naked and looking like a prune and covered in bubbles. Inventors probably get their best ideas when they are in a bath. Don’t let us forget Archimedes in his bath either.
But why am I linking Traffic and Bubble Bath? Drugs kill and corrupt. Bubble bath turns us back into kids and cleans us. Our minds, our imagination are our greatest gift. We may be thrown into jail but we still have our minds. We may be doing a job we hate, but our minds are free. Drugs are just a passing high. But if you have your mind, your imagination then you have something to play with which is more powerful than any drug. An imagination is even more powerful than Nuclear Weapons. And man’s imagination can bring an end to nuclear weapons.
Perhaps its in our baths covered in bubbles and hot water that we know just how great Peace is and how Peace and NOT drugs should be shared around. So starting one person at a time we can influence Life on Earth.
p.s. while I was cleaning the car park of CPNEC
that’s when the idea for Tears For A Butcher
came to me. Imagination is our greatest gift.
95. Extended Christmas
We have a lot of snow in England at the moment, some even say its the worst Winter in 30 years.The Infant school opened only to shut down on the first day at Midday. The Junior school over the road stayed open, they did let you take the kids home if you had a sibling at the Infant school. Both schools are at the top of the hill, literally on the brow of the hill, with the soup bowl woods just behind the Junior school. I decided it was safer to walk than drive the car, so JJ stayed while I walked the kids up the hill. I kept on saying “remember this”, as we listened to the sound of the snow crushing under our feet. I got them to observe the snow as we walked to school, the pretty natural “pictures” they could see and how they could draw them in the future. I encouraged them to observe the shapes, I want them to have memories for the future. When they have children and grandchildren they can tell them about the big winter of 2009/2010, just how pretty it all looked. They may even remember me. After school we went through the woods ,the snow looked great behind the school as I showed the girls. There must have been 150 people all enjoying the snow and maybe 15 people with sledges, any of you film fans out there will remember “Rosebud” and citizen Kane, so I needn’t say any more. For me though it was an opportunity to plant seeds in my kids imagination, joy and love and snow. Today and the weekend we missed another load of snow but there may be more tomorrow. In fact it was noticably milder and the snow in the back garden wasn’t rock solid, it had melted enough to make a snowman. So I started a snowman for my girls and when they get back from school together we can finish it off. These simple pleasures are what makes family, so I hope wherever you are reading this you do the same for your own family.
96. Junk Mail and how to destroy it and all of their computers
I don’t know about you but junk mail is a total bore. I think I’m world famous now, why? I get 20 a day, sometimes more. Sometimes for fun I reply and give them rubbish information. You always get the story that they are dying of cancer and they want to leave you all their money. Or the subject line is “from the desk of barrister James Pooh” and other such gems. I saw on tv news how in one place in Africa there were a line of computers and a teacher at the front who had written the fake story on the blackboard and they were all typing it out. Junk emails also come from China too and all corners of the globe. HOTMAIL ALERT please send us all your info or lose your hotmail. Phshing scams galore, and I click them out of existance. If I had Captain Kirk’s technology then I’d vapourise them. If only Bill Gates would let me hit return and them send a magnetic pulse in an email so I could wipe their computers, and far far worse. I’m sure everybody who reads this is agreeing with me. Oh don’t forget the 1,000,000,000 I’ve just won according to the junk email, just send my details and then they’ll ask for a 100 to cover expenses and then they’ll post a check for 1,000,000,000. And yes I just to attention when its from the desk of barrister James Pooh. And don’t let us forget they are believers, DECIEVERS and crooks and liars that is what they really are. With each email address that is zapped they get an even more improbable new address. I still think Bill Gates should let me send a zapping email that wipes their hard drive. But he’s too busy trying his new Google phone. Hey Bill can you just put that down for as second and help me with this email. However somewhere in the wide world somebody who has English as a 2nd language may end up reading this and think Bill Gates is sitting on the chair next to me sobering up after stealing all my beer from the fridge, and then I’ll end up will 200 junk emails a day. But as we all know today is Thursday 7th Jan and every Thursday that is also the 7th Bill goes bowling with the President, not the USA President, but with the President of the Michael Casey appreciation society and they read all my stories from my site http://www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
AND IF YOU BELIEVE ANY OF THIS THEN YOU BELIEVE IN FAIRIES, or you are still reading from a Blackboard……
97.
Horror Story and other stuff
I asked my daughter for an idea then I’d write a story, just as we all used to do when we were kids in school. She said “Pain” as I hurt my back again recently and it took 2 weeks to heal. But I decide to write about Horror instead. As I speak the kids are in bed, either that our they are staying in their room and drawing. Drawing is big in our house. My wife is very good and can ever do calligography in Chinese symbols. My own brother can also draw well, so I’m pleased its being passed down the generations. Me, I’m just rubbish.
What about horror? Well you meet somebody and then they turn out different to what you expected, so that in a way is a horror story. As for real horror films, or suspense films they tend to be polarised. You have the buckets of blood ones, which I cannot really watch. Or the suspense ones, with the creek on the stairs. I think the creek on the stairs ones are better, buckets of blood ones tend to be just that, all buckets of blood and no plot. I saw the Lost Boys recently on TCM it was funny and had a good plot and did not rely on too much blood. My wife hides behind her hands when the suspense ones are on. It was film that brought us together, watching films, and yes we are a kind of Adams Family, when my young daughters friends arrive I say “welcome to the adams family” , sharing a good film does break down barriers.
Japanese films are good too, the cartoons that are so well drawn, we saw one this afternoon it had even won an oscar, best of all it was on BBC so there were no adverts to ruin the film. Its still funny when we see an old film and its the first time my wife has seen it in English, or without Chinese subtitles. But then I watch Chung Ying Fat in some things and I’m raving about it. My wife just gives me a potted history of all the stars and who is married to who. So films are our joy, so don’t switch off the lights I’m going to bed now and I’ll make lots of noise as I go up the scared, just to frighten away any ghosts that may be there.
98.
How to bribe the kids while the wife is at the dentist
Well, just how do you bribe the kids while the wife is at the dentist? The answer is Dr Who, a science fiction action show for all the family. Goggle will reveal all. My kids knew there were 2 Dr Who episodes on tonight on 2 different stations. They reminded their best friend and her nana on the way home,it was so important not to miss one.
Once home we had 2 hours before Dr Who started.So books out and must be read before any tv. Apart from me and Tv news, I watch BBC, Sky, Fox News. My girls hammered the books and I prepared their meal. Mini instant 3 minute pizza, followed by milk and bananas and oranges.
Normally its Chinese food made by my wife, rice with everything,so what I dish up is a change for them. Its three saucepans on the go and my wife stiring just like the witches in Macbeth, ubble, bubble, boiland eye of newt and tail of bat. That’s how I tease her, you have to, its what she’d grown use to after 10years or so.
The kids ate and I watched the news. Then the reading all done it was wash then Dr Who, I got them to get all cleaned up so they could watch Dr Who back to back. Dr Who then bed, everything all done by 8pm. Well so much for the plan. The 1st episode I did not want to watch again so I browsed the Internet, just in case Tiger Woods had stopped by.
The 2nd episode of Dr Who was set in ancient Pompeii, on Volcano Day. I have actually been there, back in 1995 its a great sight to see. If you ever get the chance then do go, but no doubt Google can reveal lots for you. So I enjoyed Dr Who with the kids, I should say that Dr Who started 40 years ago when I was a kid, it was reinvented recently and has won awards like the British equivalent on a Tony award. Yes that good. Dr Who does not die he just grows a new body and carries on, he’s over 900 years old. I’d love to see his 401 plan. So Dr Who ended and the kids went to bed. Result.
My wife arrived late, I knew she’d gone off for an adventure. Only to CostCo for margarine, with the coins she’d stolen from my wallet all in the name of car park machines. I had wanted to go with her tomorrow because you can get a great hot dog and a soda and a soda refill for 1,47 which is 2.25 in dollars I think. So I had missed my chance for a hot dog. She did have some news though. Her wisdom teeth would be taken out in January, and they wanted to pay her 150pounds or 220dollars IF she let them try a new anaesthetic. So they would be the witches and she would be in the pot so to speak. I told her she should have said NO.She had said No already. Then she told me the date. The date for her wisdom teeth to come out will be my dad’s 8th anniversary of his death.
99.The First Christmas Card
My daughter brought her first Christmas card home from school today, so in time honoured tradition I picked her up and we placed it on top of the kitchen cupboards. In fact she had 5 cards, so we bunched them all together so that when the avalanche of cards arrives we willhave room for them all. Back in the days when me and my sister lived at home there were stings going backward and forward across the living room and the tally was 200 or even 250, my sister was/is very popular so her cards were the bulk of those that the Casey family got.
So now 25years and more further on I hold up my daughters and we display the cards. Soon the kitchen space will be full so then I perch the cards on the paintings that we have on the walls, then we fill the space on top of the telly with more cards. Christmas is on its way. My brother came with cards and presents for the girls. I hid the presents and they will have to wait 3 more weeks before they get them. They love their uncle because he always brings something, he does look a bit like santa too what with his huge white beard. Our mother no doubt blesses all her children from Heaven, we continue the love without her.
My youngest was at a Birthday party tonight so I took her big sister with me when I went to fetch her home. We went up the shopping street and could see the Christmas lights as they were switched on tonight. We also noticed how the posher streets than ours were so dark, at least our street lights were brighter. We passed by one of my dream houses, but again in the gloom I did not like it so much. Bringing the small one home we got her to close her eyes and walk, she didn’t cheat either then on the count of three she opened her eyes to see all the pretty colours that make up the shopping street Christmas decorations. she was impressed.
Walking home we observed all the Christmas trees and lights that people had in their own homes, nice and pretty. Though it does remind me of County Kerry when everybody has a light in the window, so you can look from Cromane over to Inch on the Dingle Peninsula and see all the lights in the windows. I think its to guide the 3 kings, but ask your own local priest or Fr. Google may know. Though it was in 73 when I remember it the most. We were all much younger then. Christmas is a time of Love and Family, a time of watching The Bishop’s Wife with Cary Grant. Of watching a Christmas Carol with a tear in our eye, eating too much and spilling ice cream over the new jumper your aunty had just given you. So you will have to wash it first before you give it away to the Salvation Army. But most of all it is a time of Hope.
100. Pub to Bus Wisdom?
I went to see a friend and his crew today, a few beers followed by a noodle bar, a few jokes too. Time really does fly when you are enjoying yourself. 40 years worth of time to be exact, I’ve know BigD since grammar school, 40 years ago. In fact my mother knew his grandmother for years before we ever met. He remembers our exam scores from 40years ago. He credits me with much more than I really am. Though I do use him for references, why because he went to University, in fact he is Dr BigD PhD, I had him sign his name at my wedding too, just so my kids in the future would be impressed by it all. Mind you once I married into a Chinese family and met Chinese folks a PhD was quiet common. If there are 1350,000,000 people you had better have a great CV or you’d get nowhere. Also at my wedding was William and Cindy. Cindy was a beach babe/lifeguard from Taiwan and her husband William was Dr William and his PhD was in Metalurgy, and my dad was a Blacksmith, so William was both impressed and honoured to meet my dad. On the bus BigD, which is his nickname because he is so small and BigD was a brand of peanuts 40years ago. On the bus BigD was telling me how he had to take a few exams every year so that he stayed certified as a Path Lab person, obviously I’m totally ignorant of all things medical. On my wedding day JJ and BigD were doing chemical equations on a napkin in McDonalds, jj the wife has a chemistry degree so they have something in common. BigD once had chicken’s feet cooked for him by jj at our house, he thinks I’m a girl for not trying them. The bus carried on so I asked had he made his Will yet, what with swine flu around, besides he could always leave me his stamp collection. Then I’d buy a bigger house. Sadly he said he wanted to be burnt with all his worldly goods with him , a bit like a Viking I suppose. I told him JJ wanted to be cremated too, but I told her I’d just bury her in the back yard. Yes we did get a few strange looks from people on the bus, but we had alcohol and chinese in us so we didn’t care. He told me he’d send a postcard from Seattle, he’s been going there for 8 years, so Christmas time is his vacation time. Then he stumbled off the bus, my stop is 3 stops more down the road. So I got off and did my usual sprint down the Bearwood rd. I noticed a half price bed in one shop, IF I can squeeze it into my dog leg stairs then I may get a new bed for Christmas. Then getting home I managed to fix the computer, 1st law of electrics, unplug and rest and then try again. So it worked. I also entered a win a watch competition on a watch website. So if I win then I’ll have a nice new watch, a 250dollar automatic one, it will be my Christmas present. At the moment I wear one donated by my Chinese dad the year before he was tragically killed in Shanghai. But I did meet him when I went to Shanghai in 2000, and he agree with me, he was the only one who agree with me that sending jj back to tell all my bad points WAS the right thing to do. And the rest is history or you can have a look at the photos section. That’s about it really, oh by the way tomorrow our youngest is a sheep in the Nativity Play so I’m looking forward to that. And then 14-18 Feb is Chinese New Year. So Goodnight Wherever You Are, HIC
DO NOT FORGET THE 3 TIMES REPEAT METHOD
AND JUST 15 MINS A DAY BUT EVERY SINGLE DAY
THEN IN 3 MONTHS YOU WILL SPEAK ENGLISH LIKE ME
WITH A BRITISH ACCENT
PRACTICE WHILE ON THE TOILET IF YOU ARE SHY
PUT ON A STUPID ACCENT LIKE MINE
BUT ENJOY IT. JAPANESE/KOREANS/CHINESE NOT 5 HOURS A DAY
THAT IS TOO BORING
Sunday, 31 January 2021
Michael Casey the AUDIO collection, hear me read aloud my stories
Michael Casey the AUDIO collection, hear me read aloud my stories
Everything is in one take, same as the Writing
Hope you can stand my Voice
so follow your nose:-
https://profile.typepad.com/michaelgcasey
last load of audio 177 to 207 and I finish needing a drink
179.From Lenny Bruce to Innuendo
190.When and If I win the Lottery
194.Why do men think they are perfect
195.Children are not ready for school at 5
204.Things to do Before I die Part 1
TFAB Chapter2 old people’s home
f I had a legal secretary I could sit and dictate the sequel to The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
TFAB Chapter2 old people’s home
as it is I’ll probably never finish the book, not unless I get the help of God and two Policemen
still more audio:- 151 to 176
155.From Short Wave Radio to Facebook
161.Why are writers and poets so precious.mp3
166.Just Say No to Warren Buffet
174.Rediscovering John Denver.mp3
176.How do you know you are not fat
even more audio:131 to 150
131.All things bright and beautiful
133.Swimming Baths and Painting Eggs
134.Judging a book by its cover
135.Oxbridge and still cannot write an essay
138.To be a writer or to be a Preacher
140.Charles Dickens Xmas and all that
145.Chinese mother I live that life
149.Creative Writing Group on Daily Telegraph
still more audio:- 116 to 130
118.Look in the mirror and what do you see
119.from Bedowrth to Bookshelf and beyond
126.Santa is stuck up the chimney
127.I want to be a radio star a love story
even more audio:- 96 to 115
101.Horror Stories and other stuff
102.How to bribe the kids while wife at dentist
112.From a father to a daughter
115.Crockery or Cups and Saucers to you and me
more audio:- 81 to 95
84.Food for thougtht think as you watch tv
85.Education reach for the stars
87.Die Hard 4.0 or how to use your talents
88.Shakespeare in Love and other thoughts
94.Where do the tears go when they are shed
more audio:- 66 to 80
78.The Trouble with Technology
80.From Shanghai to Birmingham6 Nov 2018 15:45:50 |
Books, Current Affairs, Film, Food and Drink, Games, humor,
more audio:- 51 to 65
51.It’s got to be Winnie the Pooh
52.The best years of your life
55.Home is where the heart is.mp3
58.Go to sleep with the Japanese
well I hope you are all enjoying these, in Nigeria or Russia or Denmark or anywhere.
more audio:- 41 to 50
46.I love my neighbour’s house
48.where do tears do when they are shed
more audio:- 31 to 40
more audio:- 20 to 30
27.Crawling Like a worm in the dirt
More Audio 11 to 19 and yes this i s my voice, I got a new microphone later on, everytghing in one take
11.Dreaming of my own Bathroom
13.If Music be the food of Love
15.If you go down to the woods today
16.From Fireworks to the grave
me holding my life saver Movelat pain killer gel
0.Introduction to Michael Casey
10.Counting Money3 Nov 2018 00:23:04 | Books, Current Affairs, Film, Food and Drink, Games, humor, Music, Religion, Science, Sports, Television, Travel, Web/Tech, Weblogs
I hope you all enjoy all this, with my posh Birmingham accent, too much listening to Radio4 years ago, and having Kerry Irish mom means I do not have a traditional Birmingham or Black Country accent.
looks like I fell off the back of a bike
Welcome President Z
Thank you Jasmine and Zum
Tuesday, 7 February 2023
Thank you Jasmine and Zum
Thank you Jasmine and Zum
fancy browser and Korean web search
most of my writing is right here
https://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.com/
going back years
but not all of it
4150 pieces on this site alone
past year I’m talking and praying for Ukraine
so if you go back before Putin
and his Genocide
Its mainly COMEDY or Humour
with English spellings
My WordPress has the most Translations
and WORD and PDF Translations
In Full and Pasted in
So you all can suffer equally
The diseases I mention are not made up
I’m not a spammer or a liar
CKD, Quadruple Heart Bypass, Arthritis and DANDRUFF
all belong to me , as well as TINNITUS. which is killing me
and yes I’d really like that speed typist
so I can write Tears for a Butcher a 600 page sequel
to The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker which is 600 pages already
But what are the chances that an Oriental lady would want to type for me
and risk having 4 kids and forming a Kpop band with me as the manager
Impossible like a man from Netflix wanting to produce my book
and all my 2000 other stories, maybe I’m talking to Myself
But some say Prayer is just that, Talking to yourself
or is that writing, perhaps I need more Tablets,
Like Moses
To write upon
But remember this nothing is Impossible to God
Does he have a Netflix subscription
and would he answer my Tinnitus Time Prayers
or just turn a deaf ear to me
Only Time will Tell and That is
God’s Biggest Joke, Time
so I’ll ask Mary to hurry things along
Not for my writing, just for Peace in Ukraine
Yesterday if that’s Possible…
50+ years ago, the chaplain Fr.Brain called me Sancho Panza, he became a Bishop
I the 4th son of a Kerry Blacksmith became a Writer
so I really am a. SOB
In adversity you find out who your real friends are
In adversity you find out who your friends are
As Nature shakes the land in Turkey and Syria
Ordinary People will see just how good their Government is
Will they rush to save you
Or continue to jail you
Pen you in, for your alleged sins
Or allow the FREE FLOW of AID and HELP
Let’s see how Syria behaves to its own people
How much aid will their Benefactor give
Russia has destroyed half of Syria already
And destroying Ukraine as we speak
So how much Charity will Russia offer
or is the only thing Putin can do is DESTROY
1,000,000,000,000 USD wasted already
as well as 200,000 Russians dead
Just for Vanity
But now lets see the amount of Charity
in Putin’s heart
Then let others judge the Reality
Putin will spend everything
Lives and Money on his War
On the figment of his Imagination
BUT has he ever saved Souls
Not even his own
Never
The only measure of a man is the size of his Charity
5thh Feb stay in bed day
Sunday, 5 February 2023
Sunday 5th Feb stay in bed day
Sunday 5th Feb stay in bed day
Tinnitus screaming so i stayed in bed waiting for it to calm down
Safest place to bed
Trust me
I stumbled over a Russian Website
for Needlewomen
I found a needle in a haystack
or is that me
So lets see if I corrupt them
leave messages about Putin corruption
Or is everybody Corrupt in Russia
Cut and paste etc
Other wise
Portugal is nice, got a few whatsapps
Edinburgh is nice too got a few whatsapps
Me I’m here in Birmingham
10 years ago in Malta was my last holiday
my pain can come suddenly
and it does
so I’m stuck here
close to my pain killers
if my pain kicked off I wouldn’t be allowed on a plane
maybe I’ll get a private jet and nurse/carer
to Malta, there’s a Hilton there
Obviously not
But it’s good to dream
I do have a story called Nights in Malta
so here’s that to read instead
you can all dream of Malta
say a prayer for my Health whichever church you are near
Nights in Malta ©
By Michael Casey
Before I start I should tell you I had a great week in Malta in 2013 and I long to return, even though it was there that my Arthur my Arthritis started to hit home. I was overjoyed that I could buy Deep Heat in Malta. Now its 4 years on and my unplanned quadruple heart bypass has overtaken me. I was told it was a triple but it was a quadruple I discovered 6 months later.
My cKd needs to be watched too, I’m telling you all this so that you can understand just how important it is to me that I can WRITE, its food for my Spirit even if you lot like it or not. So now I’m going to share part of a story that’ll become part of a chapter in Tears for a Butcher my full length sequel to The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker.
Now read on and apologies to Navy Seals everywhere, please don’t leave a horse’s head in my bed, a Subway one foot long sandwich would be better……
So it was all true, Tiny wasn’t mad or just battled out at all, he really was a seer, he saw it all the time, but when he wrote that picture in pencil and crayon the Admiral had to make a decision, so Tiny was grounded, his flippers taken away. So that’s when he became a bodyguard for that zillionaire’s old mum, lucky for there he was there he had to take care of her. He was more like a son to her, and that’s why she always wears a scarf, somebody got to her, before Tiny got to them. It covers the scar.
So what happened in Malta? Well Ester made a friend with this Irish woman in Birmingham, the one in England. You know how she likes to have real friends not people sucking up to her son, or trying to get a foot in the door. So when she heard about the triple birth, that was impossible, you’ll have to ask a gyno doctor to explain it. Anyhow Ester prayed like crazy, as only a Jew can pray. And her friend prayed like only an Irish Catholic can. But most of all Rita in Malta who was Mrs Murphy’s friend she prayed like only the Maltese can pray, and after what they put up with from those Nazi SOBs in the war they know how to pray.
So these triplets were born in Birmingham, in their Dudley Road hospital. And it was impossible, I can’t explain everything as we haven’t got the time. But it turns out that Rita’s son was the lead gyno doctor. He had renounced his Faith went his dad had died and he with all his medical knowledge could not save him. But when the triplets were born they each had a Maltese cross birthmark on their shoulder. Mrs Murphy and Rita had met and done a deal, if one helped her friend have a child, just one pregnancy, then Mrs Murphy would pray that her son came back to the Faith.
So Almighty God killed two birds with one stone. He sure did, then Ester jumped out of the shadows, she’d flown non stop from Vegas just to be there. Everybody was so excited, Mrs Murphy was crying because she had not kept her side of the bargain. Then the doc revealed himself and it came out that he was Rita’s son. He was an old bachelor, but his nurse had loved him for years. You’re having me on, no for sure, Almighty God was settling all the scores in one day.
So they decided to go back to Malta immediately and marry before his old mother died. Only the French air traffic control were on strike, those SOBs are always on strike. So Ester through a bitchy fit, she got Tiny to press the red button on his phone. 14 satellites bleeped and the War Room went to condition amber. He son makes all the military satellites, its a bit like chipping your dog, but with Norad answering.
So to keep it short, a Nato war game was interrupted and 4 assault and recovery helicopters descended on down town Birmingham. Took the doc and his crew to Birmingham airport. They put the helicopters on the K734ASD plane and headed for Malta with F15 tomcats as escort. That Zillionaire really loves his mum, and the Joint Chiefs of staff love her too. Mrs Murphy did insist on visiting the duty free at the airport, it frightened a few people, Special Forces ambling through the duty free. But Mrs Mrs Murphy did insist on getting Rita and the soon to be newly weds a few presents. One of the forces chatted up the girl at the checkout and , well that’s another story.
My that’s a busy story. It ain’t finished, Ester’s son rang to hire the entire Hilton, only he got suspicious of their tone of voice. So he brought up the Hilton on 3 of his satellites. The Mafia were holding a meeting at the Hilton. When Tiny and the Special forces were informed they just smiled and jump straight out of the plane and cleared the mafia from the Hilton, so it wasn’t a waste of a day as far as Special Forces were concerned.
So that’s the end? No. Everything went well and the doc married his nurse in Malta, Rita and Mrs Murphy were overjoyed. Ester’s poker club in Vegas were annoyed because Ester had left them so suddenly. So she set her phone up so that her Vegas friends could play poker against some old Maltese men.
It was then that it happened. One of the Mafia had been hiding in a cupboard and sprung out. It was a room full of people and kids too. Tiny was going to do his stuff and save everybody but he was afraid that some kids would get hurt by stray bullets. So he’d have to smother the Mafia guy, Tint would probably die, but everybody would be safe.
Ester looked at the statue of the Virgin Mary in the corner of the ballroom, us 2 Jews alone in a room full of Gentiles. Let it be me that dies, I’m old, let it be me not Tiny, he’s like a son to me, he never got that girl he dreamed about. He drew her picture on paper, so pretty, then all red in the left hand side of her face. Please Mary, as one Jew to another, save all these Gentiles.
My granny used to ask me to sing for her, why don’t you sing for me.
Ester stood up as requested by the only other Jew in the room, so Ester sung something all the Gentiles would love. She sung the Ave Maria, Ester sung the Ave Maria. One by one they all got up and defiantly sung the Ave Maria. The Mafia guy was astounded, a wall of sound, Phil Spector producing Ave Maria.
Tiny could see this might give him an edge,and he edged forward ready to leap, ready to save everybody. At that moment Ester’s prayer was answered, Tiny got to see his girl, for a waitress entered through the far door. She was beautiful beyond compare, and on the left side of her face was a port wine stain birthmark. Now the girl had been teased all her life because of her mark of shame. But she too had had a vision, or rather a voice in a dream. A man from the sea will marry you, the bravest man in the world is the only one good enough for you.
At that moment Tiny saw his girl and they both knew the prophecy had been revealed. Would it all end in death. Both begged the Virgin to save the other, let them live even if they died. At that same time the girl, Rose was her name, she grabbed a saucer and threw it like a frisbee hitting the Mafia guy on his adam’s apple. As he choked Tiny flew with Saint Michael the Archangel himself flapping his wings behind him. The Mafia guy was disarmed and bundled away.
So that explains why every Navy Seal in the service is heading for Malta. Its true, we had to ask the Commander in Chief for special permission. He only agreed when we told him that Rose knew Tiny’s service number, she had dreamed it all those years ago.
the view from my desk to my left
my view from my sofa, behind my desk looking out the window
and this is me
and this is Totoro my 8 year old cat, a promise I kept to my kids
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michaelgcaseyI’ve updated this today 27th June 2022 photo from 20 years ago, I doubt I’ll have any more children, but miracles do happen https://anchor.fm/michael-casey1 IS MY PODCAST I’m Michael Casey from Birmingham England, the fat silver haired writer in shades. Beware of Others with the EXACT SAME NAME, they are not me, and would not want to be me … I’ve done loads of writing, 2,000,000 Words worth over 34 years now But before I started I LISTENED to BBC Radio 4 for 20 years, from the age of 10 or younger Frank Brown our lodger, went back to County Tyrone and he gifted us his Bush Radio 50 years in love with words, and I still look so dashing. I have a picture in the attic, just like Dorian Gray I’ve also had an interest in Politics for 50 years with my dad heckling the tv and Politicians. I also suffer various illnesses including Tinnitus which is not a Roman lover, just lots of hiss, and CHRONIC PAIN Contact michaelgcasey@hotmail.com no jokers please I don’t want any competition real people I’ll talk to, jokers get deleted unread, and Spammers I just wish you could have my Tinnitus instead.
Michael CASEY is on Amazon Kindle
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Michael Casey. Simple
Politics the Art of the Possible, Kind Of
Politics the Art of the Possible, Kind Of (c)
By Michael Casey
Over here we have enquiries into bullying
He looked at me with the wrong tone of voice
He did not call They
He did not respect my differences
and would not let me use the women’s toilets
He did not allow me compete in women’s sports
I only shave twice a day, and am 60kilos heavier than the “others”
He is prejudiced
He won’t call me Madam
He says I am a bit of a Madam
He says he is honest, decent, legal and truthful
I’m not talking about Trump either
He says he loves people, he’s doing it out of the good of his heart
His Resume if I may steal an American word
His Resume is remarkable, he has 3 degrees and says he used to be a singer
He likes to cross dress too, but he needs to shave his legs more often
He said he did not cry, there was something in his eye
He says he’s very religious, he only has affairs with vicars daughters
He says they are so pure, and he won’t catch any diseases from them
He says he has never taken drugs, and he didn’t inhale anyway
He says statues should stay, he says you cannot rewrite History
He says he believe in free speech, but charges 100,000 for 20 mins
He demands the best wine from the top vine in the Green Room
He wants payment in cash in a vacuum sealed bag
He says the other guy, is a liar a cheat and a fraud and a womaniser
He had to film that a few times, as he was standing by a mirror
And the crew could be seen laughing
He says only HE can lead, and the last result was a mistake
And will he support the official Candidate
No he won’t, it’s his ball, so he’ll run away
Leaving everybody else on the field with no balls
Literally
And on it goes
This writer here,
Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham ENGLAND
Grew up watching the Political Interviews with my dad
Sir Robin Day, who was a trained Barrister, no he did not make coffee,
he was a lawyer, he made mincemeat of Politicians
My dad’s line always was “Did he Sweat, Bollocks”
My dad worked in the heat of a steel works for 40 years
The District Iron and Steel, Brasshouse Lane Smethwick
Originally a Blacksmith from Kerry Ireland
So dad would curse, and really curse, as only a foundry man can
As together we watched the Politics, 55 years ago
So that’s where that interest came from
And just to be clear dad was a very intelligent man
But back in 1920/30 Ireland you went to work at 14
You can look elsewhere to see the Education his Kids
and Grandkids attained, so never look down on him
Or me for that matter
Intelligence is Speed of Thought
Not collecting pieces of paper as I said to Molly at the QE yesterday
Molly does not speak French, she’s a medic
Anyway, at the end of the day
Just be nice to everybody, because small acts of kindness are rewarded
And nasty acts are burnt in acid in people’s memory
Politics is a picnic of lies
We pick and choose, and suffer for our choice
But we can kick them out every 5 years or so
Also remember this if you call everybody Duck or Chuck
It does not matter what cock and bull reality people have
At least, they won’t complain how you addressed them
Even if it’s me in a ballroom gown split to my hairy thighs
Because I’m off up Broad Street tonight,
for the not so secret Policeman’s Ball
Why are Policemen’s Balls so Big
They sell more Tickets
8 years ago at QE Birmingham I had an unplanned Quadruple heart bypass, it was booked as a triple but I was told later I got 33% extra free, hence quadruple, my daughters got a cat, Totoro, as I promised them a pet, a dog if I died or a cat for a heart attack, no sooner had I said that….
So blame the QE for me writing more
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