Friday, 31 December 2010
Gulliver's Travels and Me
Saturday, 25 December 2010
Christmas 2010, footprints in the snow (C)
Wednesday, 22 December 2010
My Lottery Numbers
By Michael Casey
Well Christmas is upon us and all our thoughts move towards a baby in a manger. Maybe 40years ago that was true, nowadays we all have a variety of different thoughts. My wife is telling tales of her youth back in Shanghai, tipping rice out of her bowl and landing on a neighbour’s washing below, pants with rice in them, the remainder of the rice landing on an old lady’s head. This was 30 years ago.
Other people wish and dream for a lottery win, just in time for Christmas. Me I play spasmodically, and yes I never win, I tend to play when there is a rollover, as if my chances will get any better then. I know I’ll never win the lottery, but spasmodically I waste a quid on it.
How do you pick those six numbers? The number of smiles you got on the bus in the morning, the number of times you fell on you’re a*&^% in the snow. The number of Z list celebrities who were featured in The Metro the on the bus newspaper, or the number of copies left strewn on the floor of the bus waiting for somebody to slip and twist their ankle on.
Or maybe it’s the number of attempts you have to make before your computer switches on at work. Or perhaps the number of people in your lift or how many got out on your floor, or even how many free cups of chocomilk you have in a week from the free vend machine.
Choosing a lottery number is a very engrossing thing. I have won a tenner very very occasionally. I once got an IM from Shanghai my small daughter gave me the winning numbers. So when she got home from her holiday I gave her the £10. Hover I’d much rather win enough to move house or even retire, then I could write all day everyday. But maybe the Fates are saving the Reading Public, God does have a funny sense of humour after all, he did make us Mankind after all.
So is there any hope or logic in lottery numbers, no, perhaps what I really need is for Vince Cable to introduce me to Rupert Murdoch and maybe then Rupert will discover my writing. Either that or my 33year old Premium Bond finally comes up trumps.
Merry Christmas Everybody
www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com to escape the Turkey.
Saturday, 18 December 2010
The Chair
Christmas On A Bus
Monday, 13 December 2010
Talking to an Audience
Sunday, 12 December 2010
A New Page, a new leaf
Saturday, 4 December 2010
Window Shopping
Sunday, 28 November 2010
WikiLeaks and all that
Saturday, 27 November 2010
Whats on the Internet
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. 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
Monday, 22 November 2010
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 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.
Saturday, 20 November 2010
Counting Money
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
www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
Sunday, 14 November 2010
We Are Words
Saturday, 13 November 2010
If Music Be The Food Of Love
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.
Thursday, 11 November 2010
Bring On The Tears
Journalism and All That
Journalism and All that
Well the new look Telegraph site is all sleek and “sexy”, though it still stops me commenting in the right spot, so here’s something in the wrong spot.
I read the article about US v UK journalism it was a good read. But as we all know CNN is just a travelogue, I was in Shanghai on a family holiday in 2007 when Iran kidnapped some UK sailors. My only news source was CNN and the coverage was rubbish, and I mean rubbish. Piers Morgan taking over from Larry King, good luck to him, Piers makes entertaining shows, worth a look but still lightweight. Very watchable, but if somebody wants to give me half his resources then I can do better.
From what I’ve seen of US journalism they are all pompous when on tv, and when I used to read the NYT via internet the articles were too long, just as preachers sermons can be too long. Just get to the point. Yes I’ve enjoyed their journalism too, I can also say sometimes in The Daily Telegraph the article is too long as well.
Articles should have the Goldilocks factor, not too hot, not too cold, not too hard, not too soft, but just right. They should appeal to both the Sun reader and The Telegraph reader, and if I may copy US tv, Michael Casey’s blogs appear in both MySun and MyTelegraph not to mention www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com Happy Reading viewers.
Below are our photos, the modern Adams Family
Saturday, 6 November 2010
Football Crazy
Wednesday, 3 November 2010
Teddy Bear Cull
Sunday, 31 October 2010
From Fireworks to The Grave
Monday, 25 October 2010
My Armchair
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
www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
Monday, 18 October 2010
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, 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 sooner 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.
Sunday, 17 October 2010
Mongolia Mines and Hearts
Mongolia Mines and Hearts ©
By Michael Casey
I was reading The Daily Telegraph today and there was a good article in it about Mongolia and its mineral wealth. Basically China its buying up all the mineral reserves.
Next door in Russia there are tons of reserves too. Black Gold or oil is washing its way from Russia to China. I remember what somebody once said to me, History is Geography, or maybe a History teacher said it in a class. But it is so so true, History is Geography.
China has invested its time and money around the world trying to secure its mineral resources as well as the oil that its economy needs. It is not trying to export democracy or anything else. As Cuba has learnt you can export doctors and you’ll gain brownie points, China builds schools and infrastructure, it builds the things that will aid China. The Big China is the key the way forward and nothing will get in the way. Having a Shanghai wife I’ve seen directly and indirectly just how busy China is with its development. Forward is the motto for Birmingham where I’m talking from, it is also the motto for China.
Everybody wants to progress, see the photo below that’s where my mum was born and lived till she was 12 years old, along with her 6 siblings and her parents. My mum’s brother Tim died of rickets at age 7
So now the wheel of History has turned, China wants to progress. In the 1870s we had the scramble for Africa, it was literally a carve up look at the straight lines on the map of Africa. Everybody wanted their place in the sun, now its 2010 and it’s an economic place in the sun. Offering Democracy and baseball is a bit naïve, or reminding people of Laurence Of Arabia is naïve too. What matters to people is clean water and schools, if you start there then expand from there perhaps you stand a better chance of winning hearts and minds.
Technology may have to be given away too, if you want to save the planet then industrial nuclear technology will have to be shared. I read recently about some element that when used powered a nuclear plant without weapons grade leftovers. I think it was in the Telegraph. It seemed to be a magic wonder pill. Technology is the future for the traditional industrial powers, they need to get over having their clothes stolen by China and other emerging powers. My dad started as a blacksmith in County Kerry Eire and then spent his life in a steelworks in Smethwick. None of his children worked in factories, we the next generation move on. My novel is set in Old Forge and Singing Anvil as a tribute to my blacksmith dad, it also evokes a time a period that no longer exists, that’s the charm of it. In the real world though the sun has risen in the East.
Thursday, 14 October 2010
Which Way Do You Look?
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 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 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. A mother’s Nuclear Weapons will feature, I just hope I get to share it with you, let’s look forward together.
Tuesday, 12 October 2010
Steptoe and Son
Steptoe and Son
By
Michael Casey
I was watching the telly and Steptoe and Son was on one of the Sky Channels, it took me back years, almost as many years as to when I was as old as my kids are now. So a long time ago, 40 plus years ago.
It was the episode where the dad was sick in bed with a bad back, I’ve hurt my back in the past so I could empathise. But it was the humour where the dad was exploiting his son, Harold was at his dad’s beck and call. “Harold” this and “Harold” that. Finally the son realised what was going on, somebody had drunk his lager and he was sure it wasn’t the horse, so it must be his dad upstairs. Harold got his revenge and gave his dad a blanket bath with surgical spirits, which was like setting fire to his naughty bits. So he ended up sitting in the kitchen sink to douse the pain.
Last week it was the famous episode where the old dad and the son were playing scrabble, X certificate scrabble and the Vicar came to visit. The vicar got Harold to write a history of Rag and Bone Men. The dad sulked but did a cross word puzzle for the Vicar’s magazine. When the magazine was published the Vicar was arrested because the cross word puzzle was obscene.
This is classic comedy and I’m glad Sky has it on one of their channels. It takes me back to when I was young. It also reminds me just how well it was written, some of modern comedy is just not funny. Personally I don’t find the Office funny at all. I still dream that someday some of the comedy I write gets on tv. If Steptoe still makes us laugh then it is a testament to just how good it is. My kids saw a bit of tonight’s show they laughed, so that’ll be 3 generations of Casey’s who like Steptoe, I can remember my mum laughing like a banshee when it was on. If there are any producers out there Shoplife would make great tv and be a cash cow at the theatre www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com is where it can be found. Old iron, old iron…..
Sunday, 10 October 2010
Dr Who
Dr Who
I remember watching Dr Who when I was a child, where have all those years gone?
It is more of a film now than TV. It is great family entertainment too, but don’t say it’ll make kids interested in science and change the world. Yes one or two may get an interest in science because of it, but it is what it is, entertainment.
The scripts vary a lot, you can get rubbish episodes, such as the fat monsters that went into space, those white little bars of soap things. I think Steven Moffat’s episodes were the best written as a whole, not unless he wrote the fat one.
Saturday’s wouldn’t be Saturdays without a bit of Dr Who, I think his name is Sue, as in the Johnny Cash song.
The Dr Who confidential shows are interesting and do show just how committed everybody is to the show, but they also display a flaw. When they rehearse and talk about the episode their passion is far greater than when you see the final thing on a Saturday night.
Perhaps they cannot see the wood for the trees, or perhaps I’m just a little too old to be caught in the spiders web the story spins. I know from my own tv viewing that a film can never match an original book. I know when I write and think how my stuff might appear on tv/film that the nuances die when transfered to film, a book and a film are very different mediums.
Dr Who with Matt Smith is good and I loved how Amy’s boyfriend waited 2000 years for her and punched Dr Who on the chin, she WAS worth waiting for. The threesome does work and I’d love to be in it as the fat guy sat on a bench slobbering over his food as Dr Who or should I say Sue walks by, I do look a bit like Alfred Hitchcock after all, and he was in all his own films.
brown nosing never required
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