Finding a Bargain

Finding a Bargain ©

By

Michael Casey

We all like a bargain and some may say our wives and lovers are the best bargain we ever make, especially when you get 2 for the price of one. I was listening to Abba’s The Visitors album again on Spotify hence the opening remark. There is a song on the album about a lonely hearts advert, just go listen to the album.

What I’m really going to talk about are shopping bargains, I should remind you I did work for ACNielsen for many a year. Though I was just the paper stacker in the computer room, and a bit more. ACNielsen will explain about shopping habits they live in Oxford, Headington to be exact, that’s if memory serves. There was that plastic shark sticking out of a roof of a house nearby, I remember that and the company sports day.

Anyway Market research types like to talk about varieties of shoppers, just as bird watchers divide birds up by plumage and mating habits. Old Mrs Smith is a hoarder, she may have been a whore once before, but for the purposes of market research, and she really knew her market, by hoarder we mean she takes advantage of the market. If there is a sale of crisps she will buy as many as she can carry, even the horrid smoky bacon flavour that she hates. Not because she has a religious objection to bacon, but because nobody can get the taste right. Smokey bacon should be against the Geneva Convention.

So she hoards whatever is on sale, she just cannot resist a bargain, that’s what they said about her in the war, but she was just doing her duty as she said to the Magistrate. He gave her a ride home in fact, but we’ll just leave that there. People like bargains and their brain disconnects when they think they are getting a bargain.

 I bought 10 packets of sage and onion stuffing, even though you don’t ever stuff a chicken. I bought 10 pints of milk even though I live alone, because it was 1/2 price and only 1 day left on the use by label. So you end up giving it to all the neighboring cats, and all the children think you are a witch, which is fine as it keeps them from loitering around your council house. We thought there was a witch living near our local park when we were kids, I’ve just remembered that, but in those days everybody had a milkman who came to your door. If you google Ernie The Milkman by Bennie Hill you will have a treat, I used to play rugby with Garry Marshall and he was a milkman’s son.

People are stupid and buy one because they get one free, even though they don’t really like the product. Now what kind of shopper do you think I am? Yes I buy all the bargains, such are 3 for 2 or buy three and save money. However I will eat and enjoy all and every morsel, my eating habits have improved these past 3 months and the level of crud in my bloodstream has slightly improved according to my latest blood tests. Quality food does cost more but the taste is so much better and it does seem to have improved slightly my health, and my daughter did get great exam results, was it the better food?

Online is King too, buy your Winter clothes in Summer, and your Summer clothes in Winter, just as the shops want to strangle the buyer for buying too much in the first place. You are saving a life and you make great friends with the courier. Courier employment is a major growth industry and the boys and girls really do work hard.

Toilet paper is a big thing in our house, yes I have a great big arse, you are all so kind, but so does Donald Trump, look next time he is on tv, and decide who is the bigger arse, me or him? Ckd means I use more, so we buy in bulk 48 rolls at a time Costco. My wife said I was using too much, I asked did she want me to use both sides, or maybe hang it on the washing line then use it twice. Yes an old joke of my brother’s from 50 years ago. To save my wife time I discover a bargain online and we got 108 rolls in 18 roll jumbo packets plus free kitchen roll. We were sitting, I said sitting, on jumbos for weeks  until we had room in our pantry to store it.

Yes a jumbo mistake really, but toilet paper never goes to waste. And we got 30, yes 30 free rolls of kitchen towel too, personally I’d use the kitchen towel on my bum too, but my girls like paper towels for their hands. Should the 108 rolls of toilet paper run out unexpectedly then, my girls will just have to dry their hands on Totoro our cat.

I never waste anything either, if I buy it I eat it all, yes I know you all kind of guessed that by the size of my stomach. If you are poor you don’t waste a thing, and if there is anything left over the cat and dog can fight well like cat and dogs over it. See we are very ecological in our house, well the Christmas turkey had o be shared by 13 after all. And when was the last time you heard of a supper shared by 13?

Toiletries

Toiletries ©

By

Michael Casey

Well I was in need of toiletries this morning, disheveled and a trifle whiffy when my wife’s friend arrived on our front door step, they were off on a shopping trip together with my daughter too. But they needed the toilet, people always do so they had to navigate my circumference, just like Sir Harry, and then with a sniff leave in disgust they left wondered exactly was the chemical reaction that brought me and my wife together 20 years ago. Ok I did not reek but I hadn’t yet brushed my teeth or shaved and I was wearing house PJs with toothpaste all down the front. I have tidied myself up since then and I have shaved and taken 10 years off my age, not the 3 from last night’s film.

I also had a bad night with my pain, but that’s the norm. Anyway I wouldn’t have written the opening paragraph at all, but I have but it is a good intro for my story. What is the difference between men and woman and their toiletries’ habits. Yes I chose my words to make you think and stop, before I stink and stop. For Toiletries are all about smells after all.

The wife, asked me to get some hand wash and shower gel, why can’t women just use carbolic soap just like men? The answer is that they don’t want my carbolics with stray hairs in, to wash their pure bodies. Your soap is only safe and clean if it comes out a bottle. A bar of soap was all we had when I grew up, ok when I grew sideways. But now married life and daughters mean I have to buy body wash and hand wash. For goodness sake what a load of carbolics, reddish pinkish carbolic soap. Nurses used to smell of it, now we have a million varieties of soap. My old aunty made her own from fat and perfume, I remember telling me this 40 years ago,so it must be true.

So naturally I buy the cheapest from our closest cheap shop, I don’t ask advice on FaceBook about the best soap, and I don’t look for reviews of soap and body wash. By the way I’ve inserted the FaceBook reference because I am NOT ON FACEBOOK. I still get junk fake FB messages that get deleted unopened and unread. I met too many mad people on it years ago, this Mark Zuckerberg guy kept on asking about how to handle Chinese wives, so if you want madness just click on my sites. I wash my hands of it, it’s a load of carbolics.

Up the road the nice girl gave me discount on one body wash, so I bought two, I came home triumphant, holding it aloft like an Olympic torch. Only my girls, my 3 girls said it was cheap rubbish, only fit to wash the cat it when she comes home smelly. The cat glows as they always use my anti-dandruff shampoo to wash her in, its as if she is wearing a brand new fur coat like Zsa Zsa Gabor, but Totoro our cat does always wear fur.

So crestfallen I have to resume my search for the perfect body wash, the next day. And what becomes of my cheapest of the cheap body wash. Well we’ll save that for the next time the cat needs a wash, I just hope her dandruff does not return as mine has.

I tried a different cheap shop, they had nice stuff, but at feet level was the cheapest stuff, a cheap sporting boy’s body wash. So I bought that, it was double the price I paid the previous day, a bargain. And still half the price of what they would prefer, but if they don’t like it they can just use my carbolic soap instead. The body wash does smell stronger and nicer, but not nice enough for their noses, but at least the anti bacterial hand wash was acceptable.

They say that this generation gets diseases because they wash too often and have no immunity, if you dig out Steptoe and Son on UTube there is an episode where they are immune to dysentery. Well that’s about it for today, my computer is back together again, perhaps I need to use more soap on its carbolics to keep it clean and healthy. In the beginning I worked on DEC PDP 1170, google image that and you will be amazed, it will feel as if you have soap in your eyes.    

  

Dissatisfaction

Dissatisfaction ©

By

Michael Casey

I was wondering what to write today, what to talk to you about when I thought our house hunting and my own health. When you are after a house you have a tick list of all the things you want in a new place, and you can be very disappointed and that can even turn to despair. You have to hunt high and low and stick within your budget, not unless you want to live in an empty house with no furniture as the budget is bust.

Health is same, you remember when you had no aches and pains but now they seem to be there all the time. You are being mugged by your own body’s failings. Its 4 years since my own health first started to go on a pain quest. But I’ll not bore you about it today. My point in both cases is that you get dissatisfied, you play the Stones’ I can’t get no satisfaction all the time, even the postman hums it as he goes past your house.

Dissatisfaction is a dangerous thing because you bitch about what was ok before, before you opened your eyes to a wider world. We’ve seen 100s of houses online and in actual viewing now, so we know in seconds when we enter a house does it work for us. Then we look around our home and we feel, if only we lived there and not here.

Though structurally our house is better than 90% of those we have seen. Today’s house I actually missed as I was in the grip of pain, Arthur came and and squeezed me, so my wife went on her own. I had seen the place online and via Google maps, but when she came back we both agreed that was the target area we should be aiming for. So looking at our home turf it was not as good as where we really want to be. If only we won the lottery and could get a nice place in the target area, instead of a doer upper in a good area, but as we all know location is king.

So am I dissatisfied? Yes and no, I’d rather have an end to my 4 years of random pain, which sadly I know I’m stuck with, but God is good. One property we put an offer in 4 months ago and they turned us down, then they came back to us and we rose our bid. Then finally I told my wife to tell them that if they didn’t sell it in three months time we’d lower our bid to the original bid. Now its 4 months later and its still not sold,and they have lowered the price to just above our original offer. Maybe next month they’ll come back to us and accept our original lower offer, after trying to sell the property for 5 months. Who is dissatisfied now?

Having looked at nicer properties in nicer areas, they may come back to us and we might just say no thank you. Everything has its time, its season after all. As I mentioned yesterday one daughter has got her exam results, they were great, so we need to stay near her school so that her younger sister can finish her schooling there. Then the world is our oyster, property further out is nicer and cheaper. But we are not dissatisfied because Education trumps everything.

Now it’s late on Saturday night s I write this, as I talk to you, so some of you may be thinking about love,once the curry or the Chinese is finished,and your 17 pints of Stella Artois. The thing with love is that people want more and better love. The magazines down the hairdressers tell them that it is possible and the Daily Mail has features on it, so it must be true. Otherwise they are dissatisfied.

Your husband giving you an hour and 2, well 2 whatever is the polite word for it, well 2 whatevers and a full hour is no good. So wives and girlfriends are not satisfied. This leads to eruptions in the marriage or relationship. People are expecting too much, when really its the talking in the dark afterwards which is the most important bit. When you are older and tired due to the 17 kids you have, its the talking in the dark which is most important.

Moving on, when people never had holidays they were happy enough with an occasional trip to the sea side, now the whole world is not good enough, so the stupid rich want to go into space. Consumerism creates dissatisfaction so it can be filled with the next version of the exact same thing. People travel the world looking for new experiences and new adventures, then they return home dissatisfied. Fish out of water, they left home for Education but return home despising the very people they hoped to help if they visited the big wide world.

As an observer of life, back in 1974 my brother told me to join in an not be aloof, I watch things, I am a vacuum cleaner and I save and remember things. I’ve seen the curve of life, and the many stumbles and disasters in my own life. And what do I think about dissatisfaction? Keep it simple and keep it small,and you won’t have too many broken hearts and broken dreams. Humility in everything, as Donald Trump used to say, but on a Saturday night, aim for 1 full hour and 2 starbursts.

Explaining Yourself

Explaining Yourself ©

By

Michael Casey

Believe it or not sometimes I am inarticulate, relatively speaking that is. I am much more fluid on paper than in real life. The process of writing refines my words so they are so much better than if I’m sitting on a garden wall gassing away, and sometimes I can be very gassy. You think 4 times faster than you speak, so if you are sharing your thoughts on paper then that ratio is 6 to one, or 8 to one, depending on your typing speed. So you can imagine if I’ve already got all the story in my head the putting on paper process is like being constipated, very frustrating. As I just want to download it all in a second. Jackson Pollock school of writing, and yes I never rewrite, I am not clever enough to do that, so that is my curse. If you like I am Caesar  What is Writ is Writ.

So if I am sat on the garden wall:- preaching, boring, annoying, gassing or whatever you may decide to call a visitation with Michael, sometime my explanations are lost in my babel. I really do hate trying to explain a story, you lose the spirit of the story by explaining it. As I’ve said elsewhere Eric Morcambe used to say if it works it works. Do not analyse it. So having a writer on a show explaining everything ruins it.I just want to eat the cake, I don’t care which field the wheat came from, over analysis ,like English Literature KILLS LOVE OF WORDS.

I think its enough to get the writer to read his stuff, and let the bores to bitch about it. It should just be a reading, no explanations required, just as no jacket was required by Phil Collins. I was trying to explain something to a friend today and I knew I was stumbling by trying to explain it. It’s like showing a trailer for a new film, so you in effect ruin the film before the fan sees the film at the cinema. So I just said go to michaelgcasey on Google, then hit my Blogger link and it’s under the butcherbakerundertaker and its posted there. In today’s case I was talking about Giving Advice. So I was giving advice about finding the post giving advice, so that I could give advice, otherwise I was ruining my advice about giving advice.

Tongue twisters like I’ve just given are fun for the writer, but they serve a purpose, as well as showing off. They make you smile and they make you laugh, and I hope think. If I get you to think, then you’ll have more sympathy for the writer. He’s not just a boring old fart, or a burnt out has been as I was called many a year ago. This was before my heart and arthritis problems came to the fore. If you know that the words are not all made up, he has experienced a bit of life, there is pathos and pain behind his armour of stupidity and the veneer of being a male model, well in my imagination anyway.

So I’ve poked my head out of my shell and shown you too much, like the tortoise who stretched too far and got bit by the cat. Which could be a metaphor for anything you like, or dislike. It’s easier to speak this way in a missive as it has more structure and form, like my body-builder’s body, I must give it back to him, he wants it returned for the Bank Holiday. Yes an obvious radio 4 joke, but Nick Robinson can’t use all the best jokes with Alec on their holidays together to the Vatican. Where else do politicos go?

I’ve given you an inkling into my mind and the land-mines which are my words, another cartoon made from words, I hope that the joy my words bring me is shared by your ears. If you want joy to any other parts of your body then it is a Friday night so go ask your lover. I have to go to bed now, so you should do the same while your lover is still in the mood, I’ve warmed up the ears for you, the rest is up to the two of you. Have a good night, I hope!   

Giving Advice

Giving Advice (c)
By
Michael Casey

I was talking to a friend today and they confided in me, so in order to give them some advice I in turn had to confided in them. This is how advice works at the best level. None of us like to be told what to do, but if we share experiences then we are more likely to listen.Life is make it up as you go along, there are no rules, same as love has no rules. If you both like it then do it.

If you are afraid of something you will avoid situations and so limit yourself and your life, because of fear. As Churchill said we have nothing to fear but fear itself. So if you are afraid of spiders you may never go in the old storeroom again, so you get your friend to go in there for you. But what happens when your friend is not there and you need the extra chairs stored there for your cafe? So will listen to their advice about which spider spray to use, or you'll train the cat to eat the spiders that you are so afraid of. Then you can have a fuller life fetching chairs.

This is obviously a simple example about communication and how to face your fears. The thing bout fears is that they do have to be faced. You may have been mugged up that dark alley but it is your route home, so what do you do? You may find a loner route how to avoid it, or go home in a group, take turns with your local martial arts guy guiding you part the way home. Again another simple solution.

The thing about getting advice you listen more if there is a connection with the person giving you the advice. People listen less to their priest because he doesn't know about getting drunk on a Friday night and seeing this girl or boy you fancy. He knows less about temptation because he is safe in bed with his cocoa while you are out dancing and prancing.

So disaster strikes, and you are left pregnant with a baby. So if you are a school girl who would you listen to the priest,or the girl who learnt the hard way. The girl has experience and pain on her side, so hopefully in secondary school the girls would listen to her advice. Don't drink, do use contraception, have a sober friend to watch over you. There is a difference between sex and love. Now would you listen to the girl or the priest, or sister Agnes is she was giving that week's morality talk? I think the voice of experience always wins. But it is always far better if you have your own common sense.

Sometimes you have peer pressure, and the answer to peer pressure, is always____ --- or other such language. You have to be strong enough to say NO to whatever it is. Sometimes its emotional blackmail from your own family members, you should look after granny or the cat or the farm, or whatever. IF this thing would hurt you in any way, emotionally or physically or spiritually. Then you have to build a wall around you and say NO. You have to protect yourself first before you can interact with anybody and anything. When you are happy and secure in yourself then you can think about helping others. Everything starts with self then radiates outwards, self is the foundation, and if the foundation is weak then the walls of self fall over. You cannot help anybody if you are not strong in yourself. And if you are strong and you still don't want to look after your nan's dog or your sister's ex-husband she feels guilty about. THEN JUST DO NOT DO IT.

Once you are strong and healthy in yourself then you can think about teaching Albanian to Trappist monks or whatever your speciality is. But if you are too weak don't weaken yourself even more just out of some misplaced sense of duty or guilt. You do things because you a re strong enough to do them and because YOU WANT TO. Same as mentioned earlier on a Friday night, you made love to that boy because he was nice and you think you loved him, not because you could. Fresh Cream Cakes are Naughty but Nice as Salmon Rushdie  wrote in his copyrighter's days BUT we have to learn to control our urges or we will be forever  fat.

Love yourself first, then you can love others, but we are only one, then with love we become two and together two can create families. But everything should be done with love not fear, and if you remember that then you will not go far wrong.  As somebody once said in All Things Love. And never accept any other request.

AS I walk out this mid-summer morning

As I Walk Out This Mid-Summer Morning ©

By

Michael Casey

I was walking up the road this morning, looking left and right and up and down and all around. Just in case the North Korean hit man is after me, but I am protected by a cloak of stupidity, so I’m not afraid. I try and be observant as I walk about, you never know what you might see, and an idea might present itself. The observant amongst you will have spotted a Laurie Lee homage in my title, do read his book, remembering from school it was a great read, as was his Cider with Rosie, but don’t get drunk till after you finished reading.

I see a sight and a seed appears in my mind, all I need is a mustard seed and then I have 1000 words, as I’ve no doubt told you before. Today we have the corner shop fruit stall outside the Halal butchers, I am tempted to give the stall-holder a spare pair of my sunglasses as he is always in the sun. My friend the lolly pop man has disappeared, we both had had bypasses, but now the road is fixed and a new zebra crossing is installed he has been bypassed, by a green icon, and not the Jolly Green Man from sweetcorn. As my dad said 30 years ago Automation Will Ruin the World, in this  case a lolly pop man replaced by a flashing green man.

They were painting the Christian Cafe, perhaps adding lions all around, it turned out they had installed double glazing upstairs, though they did have a scaffolding tower. In my imagination it was a circus performance or the high diving board, maybe I should not watch Madagascar 3 too many times, but it is great. The reality was a local estate agent watching proceedings, maybe there is an upper room above the Christian Cafe, who knows what happens there.

Further up the road my pharmacist was closed, he has Wednesday afternoons off, he does work Saturday after all. He is a great pharmacist and a very good golfer. Maybe one day he’d have a round with Trump. I continued up the road try not to be killed as I cross on suicide corner, its very dangerous there, there used to be a refuge for pedestrians, now there is not.

Though the local undertaker is conveniently situated, and the church too. We have 6 churches I believe, even a talk to the dead church as well, we even get the mad people church people knocking on our doors too. They don’t knock on my door any more, perhaps it was something I said or was it something in the way I moved, or was it the Websters in my hand. It’ a dictionary for all you USA readers out there. The pen, the word IS mightier than a sword after all. So I could have frightened them off by my words, or maybe the way I look.

Further up the street we have acupuncture sessions advertised on one of the church railings, pain and praise the lord perhaps. I know a lot about pain, but I did have acupuncture 5 years ago and it worked. But I I stand too close to my Shanghai wife she may prick me with her chopsticks, which would be equally as good.

I pass the furniture shop and see the SALE, why do furniture shops always have sales, and what is the real price of anything in a store. I think furniture stores are a cross between Rubic’s Cubes and Random Number Theory. If your child gets a 9 in tomorrow’s results then only she can explain it, because I cannot. Furniture costs whatever the inside leg measurement of the salesman multiplied by his shoe size is, plus his wife’s age and the size of the mother in law’s behind. If you can equate that formula then you know just how much anything costs in a furniture store.

I stumble past all our fast food outlets, I just cannot believe there is a market for so much chips. England’s gift to world cuisine, chips and fries, and heart disease. The faint echo of cheering escapes the bookie shops we have, I cannot believe there is a market for so much gambling. Though looking about me, maybe gambling is the only way out. Which reminds me I must buy a 2 quid lottery ticket, the sum total of my own spasmodic gambling.

I get to the park and sit and rest and think if only, if only, if I won the lottery I’d be walking different roads and talking about different views. I’d have a dog called Camembert with a great sense of smell and I’d hide things for him to find. After my rest I return home doing my shopping along the way. Three months of fancier food is so much nicer and we’ll see tomorrow when the results arrive has it helped with my daughter’s grades. Tonight in anticipation we had sausage and chips from the local chippy, see we know how to push the boat out.

So this has been my Mid-Summer Walk, I hope you get a better picture of my life here as a Fool on a Hill, I am no Poet like Laurie Lee, but my neighbour does play the violin just like him.  

   

Our Cat the Food Critic

Our Cat the Food Critic ©

By

Michael Casey

Well I’ve had my haircut so I look even more like George Clooney now, though he cannot fart as well as I do, its the only way to tell us apart, the fart. But I digress, where was I, right here sat as ever in front of the keyboard looking at the sky above. I rediscover Sky on Spotify, the band, not Rupert’s toy, and they are very good, so have a listen for yourself.

They shall be hammering out the classics a la heavy metal, well kind of as I talk to you all. So get the headache tablets ready just in case they go a symbol too far. I did in fact hear them live at the Birmingham Odean in the 1980s, I had sprained my elbow after falling over ice skating, so I had my left arm in a sling. In the audience a whole variety of people had arms and legs in bandages, it was like an invalide’s night out, no I’m not making it up, it was maybe 30 years ago.

So as they wail in the background, rather like a cat on a hot tin roof I’ll get to today’s tale. Totoro is as you know the family cat, or rather we are the family she allows to pet her. Cats own you, you never own them, rather like a mistress so I’m led to believe. Dogs you do own and they are loyal beasts. But cats please themselves.

Totoro will come in the back door or through the window if you are slow and then sit on you. Not because she loves you but because she wants wipe her wet fur all over you. Cats are not stupid, dogs are. Cats do A levels, dogs stop at their ABCs, can you discuss linguistics with a dog? No. Case proven. Totoro is of course trilingual. She understands English and Mandarin, and will sprint faster than Hussain Bolt down the stairs to the sound of plastic wrapping paper being opened. Her third language.

She know that means snacks straight from the freezer from the posh shop. 3 months ago we changing our shopping habits to encourage my daughter while she was studying for her GCSEs. On Thursday we will discover has it paid off. Please God she should do very well and start her A levels in the sciences. However even if she has done unexpectedly badly we’ll stick with the fancier food, because its so much nicer. It may help my own health too, you are what you eat after all. Boris I’ll give such a slap, I know what you are thinking. Moi a male model and all, the cheek of it.

Which brings me to Totoro, we feed her Whiskas which is the best and slightly more expensive cat food, though if you use Ocado’s Fetch you can get a good deal on a box of cat food, 84 sachets or so. Totoro is well fed being part of a Chinese/Irish family but she does like to travel, she is young free and single and has been neutered, so this means she can and will jump over all fences to try the cuisine elsewhere.

Totoro can have at just a hop and skip away:-Japanese, French, Spanish, Polish, Indian, Pakistani, Iranian, Turkish food

So why should she just have Whiskas, she can purr and knows how to give that sad kitty look, she has seen Shrek a few times so she has seen the cat in that. So would you stay at home when you can scale the heights of haut cat cuisine?

Totoro may come in at 11pm for a snack then depart an hour later for the delights of the Indian curry house, or she may just be warming herself sat by its chimney. She comes home smelling of all kinds of everything,no Dana does not have a restaurant nearby. My small daughter is a cat smeller, so she’ll sniff the cat to see where she has been. Sometimes she smells of Chanel, which is better than my Jeyes Fluid smell, sometimes she smells of this food or that food, but she always comes home.

Sometimes she’ll come home at 3.30 am waking me up, only to wake another member of the family up 2 hours later so she can attack a passing milk float. I’m sure she helps the local shop keepers open up, then she can receive a reward of something. Cats are not stupid as I’ve said before. She’ll disappear as Polish schoolkids come home or our Japanese neighbour comes home, so she can share their snacks. Excited voices ring out as children play with Totoro, she is a travelling cat who will sit on any mat, she is the United Nations of Cat. Have a mat, she’ll sit on it.

Totoro does of course rate all the cuisine, she leaves her spray :-1,2 or 3 sprays on the dustbin by the back door. 3 strays means the food is delightful, on a par with Michelin, 2 is good, 1 is nice. And should she not like the food, then she’ll leave a brown message by the back door, and no its not a bottle of Guinness, but the same colour.

Later Totoro will return to sit in the window looking out at the world or at our back garden, satisfied, she has had enough, didn’t Satis mean enough back in latin class? Though I did go to school with a Satiswait who was rather large then, he had had more than enough. Funny how you remember things, that was 40 years ago when I was doing my exams.

I need to finish now and have a nap, I’ve managed to get a cold, I have to look after myself now. If only to be able to let the cat in and out at all times of the day and night while my pigs sleep. Did I tell you I discovered my Chinese name Panzi does not mean Fat Fat Boy, they have been calling me PIG all these years. I did used to equal the weight of my wife,my mother in law and my 2 daughters, MC=4C if you like. I think I’ll spray myself all over the dustbins.

  

Pacing Yourself

Pacing Yourself ©

By

Michael Casey

When you have a job you have to pace yourself, your life. You have to get up, to SSS, pooh, shower and shave, though some don’t understand this SSS, they think it’s SS with a stutter, or are you dressing up for some Allo Allo fancy dress party if you remember Rene. The reality is your life is not your own, you are owned by your job. I did do a lot of long hours, 12 hour shifts, even 12 hour night shifts. That’s why I have strong legs, all the standing and carrying.

Now I just carry on with words and nag the rest of the family to watch the clock and be on time for work or school or choir practice. I don’t have to pace myself, my heart does it for me thanks to my beta blocker. I can look up at my pendulum clock on the wall and say tic or tock as I watch it swing. I have a steady slow pace of life. When I feel like it I can write or rather tell you all another story. I am as storyteller after all.

We were in the garden calling our cat and I thought perhaps she’s a Food Reviewer, like Ratatouille in reverse, see the cartoon and you will not be disappointed. So the idea sprung to my mind so maybe tomorrow that’ll appear on my site, once I write it.That’s how the pace of my life works, my tempo. However as you all also know and I bore you all about it, my pain from Arthur my arthritis does come along unexpectedly, as does heart pain etc.

So that is the balance the see to my saw. It can all be so unexpected like parents coming home just when you finally persuaded Jane to, but to never happens as your parents arrived home early, interrupting your pacing heart. So it is with my pain, its pattern its rhythm is totally unpredictable, a bit like Jane but you never ever found out. Again I’ve planted an idea in your mind, without ever being specific, I am a stripper but you are all blindfolded, thank God for that you cheer, but that is the secret to my writing, well I hope. Maybe it is me who is blindfolded and stripping and you are the readers suffering the sight of me naked on the page, or is that just a horrible horrible metaphor. Boris bring us all a vodka fast.

A gentle stride to the fridge to get a drink then I’m back with you, though today I’m limping all day, my neighbours think I’m a character, a character actor practising a walk, like Alec Guinness. But it’s my arthritis. I can start my story any time I like as I have no set bedtime, once written I post it on my sites and wait for the apathy or applause as I see where in the world you all are.

Sometimes I feel like Napoleon, as I inch across the map with my word conquest. Portugal, France, Germany, Poland and Ukraine all in the same day. I think there must be some Christian Brothers forcing students to read my rubbish in an attempt to make them polish their English. Though the Polish do seem to like my stuff the most, so I promise to spend more money in the corner Polish shop. Their mayo is great by the way.  

I am lucky these past years have allowed me to spend more time with my daughters, and educate and confuse them in equal measure. Once a story is finished I shout listen to this and I read it back to them, and my smallest daughter gives me a score out of 10. So they have heard a lot of my 1,000,000 plus words.

I did offer to put some stories on a USB stick for the Polish girl at the deli to help with her English, I have 11 hours of audio too, 200 of the 1300 stories recorded. However perhaps USB stick is not in her vocabulary, the local Polish community come to the store for food and get me reading stories instead. Luckily we don’t have hunting licences in central Birmingham or I could end up mounted and displayed on the wall of the local Polish Deli.

We have a Turkish store and an Iranian pizzeria maybe I should offer my USB stick there, or perhaps they would teach me some new words about pacing myself.

Influencing the Writer

Influencing the Writer ©

By Michael Casey

I was having a lazy day today, the pain monster came last night so I thought I deserved it. Last night was good on tv as The Lady in the Van was on the telly, its a famous play by Allen Bennett. I do in fact have a copy of the book, it’s on my garden wall waiting to be taken away by passing scholars, or tramps in need of tissue paper. I’m sure Allen will praise me for my recycling efforts. I bought the book cheap but never got around to reading it. Then the play was on the telly last night, the film version with Dame Maggie Smith, she got an Oscar for the Prime of Jean Brodie.

So now the book is on the garden wall awaiting recycling, but I’ll keep an eye out for the rain as nobody wants a mushy book, in all senses of the word. Speaking of words Allen was interviewed in a documentary and the foul words he used en passant, if he used more of such words then he might attract a more working class audience, if I might steal some of the style in some of his stuff. I did email him once but I don’t remember did he reply, though I do send rather a lot of emails.

As you can see I am influenced by what I’ve seen on tv or read in the Press or on the radio, but then again a look out the window can provide an idea. Though lots of material I choose not to write about. Yes really. Today I bumped into our dog walker, I asked why he and his wife was so thin, recently both of them have lost a stone+ each, or 10kilos if you are handicapped by metric. See I add a throw away line just to annoy people, or to see if they are awake.

Our dog walkers are a form of clock for me as a I look up from the keyboard as they walk past. It turns out his wife has also been doing step ups, no she hasn’t been polishing her doorstep which was big in the 50s, no she has used the step up method. And no this is not a form of contraception for tall people, love should have no barriers. I could go on and on I do have a Doctorate in BS after all, I know you know already.

I’m still chewing now I had to grab a bite so I had fish fingers a la Birds Eye, they are the best you know, with a squirt of BQ sauce on top, wrapped in a slice of whole meal bread. I am Gordon Bleu you know, and where my 3 girls, they were at an Italian restaurant eating boring pasta. Meanwhile upstairs pussy, our Totoro the 4^th female in the family was fast asleep on a duvet. I’m sure she’ll give me fleas one day.

I’m waiting for the kettle to boil now and I wonder does Boris my Eastern European Everyman understand the style, or does he think Bloody Foreigners, I’m not letting my daughter go to England, or certainly not Birmingham. They are strange people, as he rehangs his Putin calendar on the fridge, chest exposed.

As I talk to you I wonder was I really Ronnie Corbette’s and Joyce Grenfell’s love child, would that make me Gerald Wiley? Life is strange and you have influences all over the place. Coffee is warming me now and I’m glad I resumed drinking it after a year or was it two break. 50 years plus a coffee drinker. Only instant, Kenco Rappor, do you think I could afford anything more? It is my guilty pleasure.

I pause for a sentence, perhaps Allen Bennett will knock the door and proffer one. Only its just the mad christian people, knocking at my door on a Sunday, have they got nothing better to do? I have a good mind to tell them to Allen Bennett off, I am a man and I have history, I know how to swear, I find it clears the air, and gets rid of unwanted callers at your door. I bet Allen is writing all this down in his notebook, under never to be used. I hope he falls off his bicycle.

I need another coffee so I’m going to leave it there for today, I was going to add just one word after “off his bicycle” it would have been so much more dramatic. But Allen would say it was a stunt, so I controlled myself and let the crude comic alliterative possibilities alone, sometimes you have to do that or people think you are just a …

 ps. I forgot about the book as the rain fell, so the Lady in the Van is all mushy

Birmingham is Ballet

Birmingham is Ballet ©

By

Michael Casey

If you have been  following me on my site you’ll know that the pain monster attacked at 4am this morning, I had a cuppa and as I’d managed to waken my daughter I told her about this story. It will actually form a chapter in Tears for a Butcher the comic sequel to The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, assuming I get around to doing it. I have a vain hope that I could borrow a legal secretary, then in 12 weeks the sequel would be done. I’ll just sit and dictate it.

Now why Ballet? Well as you should also know my wife’s first friend in Birmingham was a ballerina from the Birmingham Royal Ballet. I was vetted in a straight bar in the Gay Quarter of Birmingham, by the ballerina herself. The bar is called The Queens Tavern, you can have a beer there next time you are in Birmingham at the ballet, it’s just up the side of the Hippodrome Theatre past the Subway sandwich place.

Now if you put your 4 pints of Stella down on the coffee table Boris, and those three Subway sandwiches, eating alone again, then I’ll begin. Remember as ever these are all my copyrighted ideas.

Catherine and Damien were ecstatic they had scored top marks in the Law exam, in fact along with their friends, Peter and Paul all four had scored top marks. All because one of the partners suggested they go to visit Marcus in the old people’s home, the one owned by The Old Forge and Singing Anvil Coop, but that’s another story which I’ll tell you later. But you may need another 10 pints of Stella Artois and 6 more Subway sandwiches Boris, but Annie can clear the table away for you, or Bettie her twin sister.

Now where was I, yes Catherine and Damien and the other two had visited Marcus in the home, after his stroke he needed a little help but otherwise he still had it. So with Marcus’s help the four of them scored the highest ever scores in the Birmingham Law exams. Now it is a tradition that the Law firm that gets the best results gets a bottle of whisky from the other firms. As you may know if you wander around Saint Phillips cathedral area, we have a lot of lawyers in Birmingham. Obviously I worked at the best firm, Pinsent Masons, but I digress.

So back to the tale, grace a Marcus as the French might say, the foyer of Catherine’s company was littered with whisky. Not bottles but cases of the stuff. As her company the gained the top 4 spots, the other firms thought it was only fair to send not a bottle but a case of whisky. I am probably underestimating the figure, but 30 firms sending 30 cases of whisky, equals 360 bottles of whisky.

The senior partner arrived and raised half an eyebrow. It’s the legal results Sir, explained Tony on Security. We got a case instead of a bottle seeing as we did so well. 360 bottles. Yes Sir 360 bottles, litre ones too. The senior partner smiled, well if you put 5 cases upstairs in the boardroom. And the rest Sir? Well if I remember rightly it’s your Regimental Reunion soon, would it be an imposition if I asked you to dispose of it. 300 bottles may be a little too much to ask you to dispose of? I suppose we might find a good home for it all. Thank you Tony, said the senior partner. The senior partner stopped for a second, no he hadn’t changed his mind, oh by the way, ask Maggie our cleaning lady for the hangover cure, it works wonders, so I am well informed, touching his nose as he skipped away smiling. It was a happy ship their firm, one big happy family.

So the night of the Regimental Reunion arrived, Tony had hired a room in the local bar, in the corner the prize, 25 cases of whisky. Not your rubbish stuff from Asda or any other supermarket. 40 year old malt whisky, they were lawyers after all, they had standards to maintain. In a neighboring bar Catherine and the others were celebrating too. Catherine and Damien were having a quiet fag, when 3 lads asked could they have a light, when Catherine held out her lighter one grabbed her arm, they were going to be robbed. Catherine let out a scream, one of the lads pulled a knife.

Inside the Regimental Reunion things were going well, very well in fact, half the Tonys were tipsy.Ex army tend to work as security in Law Firms, and they always but always are called Tony,its almost like a religious cult. Ex army,law firms and the name Tony. If you don’t believe me ask Tony Cruise,the action film guy, is real name is Tony by the way. Catherine’s scream was heard, and like a mother running to save her baby half the room exited. But they were too late, blood had been spilled and bodies were on the floor.

Somebody else had heard Catherine’s call, it was a ballet dancer new in town, like a new gun slinger. It was Anton Bollockoff from Russia. He had dashed and pranced and pranced and dashed, three times in fact. He had kicked them high and low, and low and high and high and low again. The assassins were on the floor bleeding. Are you ok, my dear said Anton looking into Catherine’s eyes and she looked into his. It was thunder and lightning, may I introduce myself. Damien screamed,the Tonys ran faster, as fast as 40 year old malt whisky allows you. You are THE Aton Bollockoff, the ballet dancer, screamed Damien, he was so excited. He had been rescued by THE Anton Bollockoff, nobody would believe him down the gay bar.

The Tonys arrived and bounced the three criminals against a wall or two. You are banned from Birmingham yelled a RSM, another Tony took their photos, do you hear me YOU ARE BANNED FROM BIRMINGHAM, yelled the RSM. Now get lost, he would have used stronger language, the kind RSM have qualifications in but there was a lady present. Damien explained all. Tony from Catherine’s law firm thanked Anton Bollockoff if ever you need a favour just ask, you saved one of my girls and boys, I owe you.

Anton Bollockoff knew when to leap so he leapt. If I could get into a good Italian restaurant tonight with the beautiful lady that would reward enough. Catherine swooned, delayed shock, Anton caught her in his arms. This was love at first sight, and the Tonys were there to see it, Damien was slightly disappointed, but he believed in love, he has watched Moulin Rouge 12 times already.

So Tony took their photos too, he explained henceforth they were on the Angel list, never wait, straight to Heaven at any place in Birmingham where there was security. As for the 3 bad guys, they were on the Hell list, forever barred. Photos were appearing on mobiles all over Birmingham as he spoke.

So thanking the Tonys, Damien, Catherine and Anton Bollockoff made their way across town to the new gay bar and then to the Italian restaurant. Were they afraid of meeting any nasty people along the way? No because Anton was with them. Besides every security camera along the way was following them and as they passed every bar and eatery a security guy or girl waved and spoke into their radio. It was as if the Queen was strolling by, with security watching.

Damien had everything, a bright future in the law beckoned, but he wanted love. And you cannot buy love. He waved Catherine and Anton away as he queued outside of the new happening gay bar. He had a slight tear in his eye, all he wanted was somebody to love. He’d have a great future but without somebody to share it with. He brushed a tear of envy away from his eye. At that moment Martin appeared, Martin was the head of security, he was just checking the lines. Do you want a tissue he asked as he handed Damien a tissue, then looking at his phone he said, you are on the Angel list come with me.

Once inside Damien had a cocoa with Martin, you can’t have alcohol while you are working after all. Damien offloaded his life to Martin, it turned out that as well as being a body builder, Martin’s dad was a lawyer. Only they had argued so Martin ended up having a security company instead of a law firm. They say that God works in mysterious ways, but that night they had found each other, 60 years they were together, but I’ll leave the future to God.

Meanwhile Anton Bollockoff and Catherine were walking hand in hand through the backstreets till they arrived at the best Italian Restaurant in Birmingham. All the time security cameras and doormen charting their progress. The Regimental Reunion was I full swing, Tony was happy his eyes were everywhere protecting his children.

At Don Camillo’s Anton and Catherine instinctively queued, a security giant and his small blonde pig-tailed girlfriend ushered them in. Paolo was a ballet nut and when he saw walked through the door he screamed. The best table in the house given to them, best food and wine was produced. Catherine was all loved up, here in front of her was THE Anton Bollockoff from Russia. He was wearing a very tight shirt and even tighter cream coloured trousers. She was in love in lust and in love again.

People would have asked for autographs but one look from the pig-tailed security girl stopped that. Paolo refused payment, Anton said why not come to the ballet tomorrow for a full dress rehearsal, and the nice security people. So it was settled. Anton told Paulo to step outside then he asked Catherine to lean on a lamppost.

What happened next cannot really be explained by a ballet baby such as I. But I will do my best, with Paolo standing on the steps of his restaurant Anton floated back and forth only to return to stroke Catherine’s hair, her face and shoulders. Away and return, away and return. A crowd of hundreds appeared, held back by security. This went on and on and on, like singing in the rain but without the rain, this is Birmingham not Manchester after all. Anton stroked her hair, her face, her shoulders, her behind, her breast, her thighs. Ever so gently, ever so romantically. Women and men fainted in the crowd, erotic dancing, ballet dancing while fully clothed. Catherine’s breathing increased, the crowds breathing increased. Anton Bollockoff was making love to every woman in the crowd.

Finally it was just too much, 40 mins of balletic foreplay, Anton stroked a stroke too far. Catherine wheeled and sprung, she tore his shirt off in the street, Bollockoff shirt off in the street. This would be The Sun’s headline in the morning. She jumped on him and began to devour him on the bench outside the old church that was was now a 70s disco nightclub. For God’s sake get her to the church on time.

The security saved the day as ever, the couple, it was close but not quiet, the couple were grabbed and carried up the street to the Novotel. They were flung through the doors of the Presidential suite. But then something wonderful happened as they stood naked in front of each other. Not the urge, the urge was there, very much there. They just showered together and each other but then they stopped, naked but in love. They spent the night talking, they were up all night, talking. Can it be true, can it be really true? Yes. The exact same thing was happening for Damien and his new life long love. Both couples had stopped on the verge of coupling. They wanted to be sure it was LOVE.

Then they slept.  

In the morning the Sun screamed out Bollockoff Shirtoff in the Street. As the couple talked and slept their love had gone viral. Everybody but everybody in the crowd had filmed it and uploaded it. Ballet Lovers Website crashed 14 times, such was the pull of the ballet. By afternoon on the streets of Bangkok you could buy a DVD of Bollockoff and the Mystery girl. To say Bollockoff was huge was a massive understatement. But what would transpire after breakfast would dwarf.

Catherine arrived at her law firm and Tony smiled, she kissed him on the cheek. Tony on security blushed, he was like a proud dad, as all law firm security people are. Now a major new client had been visiting and as Catherine spoke fluent Italian she was ushered to the boardroom just to be on hand. Now as luck or Fate would have it, the client had been at Paolo’s restaurant the night before. This could be tricky very tricky, but he was a Ballet Nut. He did not want to want to talk about contracts just ballet. Catherine looked helpless and trapped for a moment, the senior stepped in, not as elegantly as Bollockoff but just as nice.

If Catherine doesn’t feel too overwhelmed then I’ll permit it, he ventured, senior partners love their staff almost as the Tonys on reception, but with much posher language. Forgive me, I am just a farmer replied the Italian in clothes worth at least 10,000. He bowed and kissed her hand. So they talked business with Catherine doing a bit of translation. As talks had gone well, extremely well, the Italian could not keep his mind off Bollockoff’s performance. Catherine decided to do some of her own venturing.

Actually, there is a full dress rehearsal today and Anton said I should sneak out over a long lunch break and come and see him perform. The Italian screamed and dropped his man-bag leaving a tiny tiny scratch on it. Could we, please, we have finished here, my cousin Marco would be so jealous if I saw Bollockoff first. The Italian gave his best pleading eyes to he senior partner. Well if you are sure the business is closed. The Italian drew out his most expensive yet stylist pen and signed the 200million deal.

Let’s go and see Bollockoff he screamed in delight. The senior partner leaned over his phone and asked Tony on reception to tell the Italian’s driver to be ready. In the ride down in the lift Catherine told the Italian how she had met Bollockoff. So when the lift doors opened Tony was a superhero, putting Bollockoff on the angel list had been angels’ delight for the Italian. Bollockoff was at the restaurant as the Italian magnate and he had seen him dance in the street. The Italian kissed Tony on both cheeks, you should have a reward, Tony’s eyebrows formed question marks. The senior partner shrugged his shoulders, the Italian asked sheepishly would his man-bag be a suitable reward. The tiny scratch on it meant the Italian would not be seen dead with it. With the senior partner nodding his assent Tony accepted the gift. It was a PacoMacotaco man-bag not that Tony knew that till he googled the label inside. Retail value 4000.

The car whisked them to the ballet, the lights had gone down but they were ushered to a box. The music started and the lights came on. As their eyes adjusted to the light Catherine could see the security from the restaurant and Paulo from the restaurant in the boxes beside them. Then as she looked about she realised the Hippodrome home of the Birmingham Royal Ballet was overflowing. Every security in  Birmingham had come. Invite one, invite all.

Bollockoff and the Birmingham Royal Ballet were on fire, his energy had supercharged everybody. The fact that the other newspapers  had followed up on the Sun’s headline really made everybody feel happy. The show was an entire tour de force or whatever the French say. At the interval a miracle happened. Everybody got a drink, the Chairman of the Federation of Security Personnel Birmingham Branch had slapped down his American Express card and said fill everything and have every ice-cream in the building ready. It was a military operation, everybody but everybody was fed and watered in those 20 mins.

Happy with smudges of ice-cream on their lips which eager girlfriends more than eager to lick off slowly, the security all sat in eager anticipation. They were not denied anything. Ballerinas danced and Ballet dancers pranced. It was like Christmas for a child. Grown men cried and their girlfriends had to console them, and they’d console them much more when they got home to bed. Afternoon delights are a regular feature if you work late nights.

The Italian sneaked out his iphone and streamed a minute to his cousin in Milan. The cousin was so lividly jealous. As the curtain fell the entire audience leapt to their feet. The community of Birmingham security has lost their Ballet Virginity, and they wanted more,and when they got home they would have more ballet, but the horizontal variety. The corps to ballet bowed and the audience screamed.

Bollockoff stepped forward, I am sorry if my performance was not perfect it’s my first time on this stage but I promise to improve here in my new home, Birmingham. I met somebody so special last night and we spent the entire night talking , just talking. So did I screamed Damien and Martin in unison. The audience roared their approval. Things could not get any better. Catherine screamed out, I love you. Italian and the senior partner could go to hell she was in love. The entire audience screamed out I love you.

The corps to ballet bowed, the applause and screaming lasted 10 full minutes was like a pop concert. Then when the screaming stopped Catherine screamed again. It’s me, I love you. The spotlight moved to cover her, he’s seen her in the Sun now he’d spotted her in the crowd. The audience gasped it was her, the girl dancing or rather ripping his shirt off from Bollockoff. Anton saw the love of his life and dived into the crowd. His ballet dancing had lifted them up, now it was their turn to lift him up. So walking on palms Anton Bollockoff reached his girl. It was like Romeo and Juliette. Marry me and have all my babies he said in Russian. What did he say asked the audience? The Italian who also spoke Russia stood and with tears in his eyes translated. He said Marry Me and have all my babies.

Versuvius erupted, Catherine was lowered to Bollockoff’s level and still standing on the hands of security they kissed. Then hand in hand they walked over the hands to the stage. The Italian kissed the senior partner he was so happy. His Milanese cousin would die, absolutely die. After a few more bows the corps to ballet were about to leave the stage when Anton hissed, do you trust me? Yes. So the Corps de ballet left the stage by walking over the hands of the audience.

It took 90 seconds to empty the theatre they were all trained security personnel. Then outside the Hippodrome Anton reprised his dance from the night before, but with the Birmingham Royal Ballet improvising around him. If my mother were alive she would have thrown a bucket of water on them. As it was the Fire Brigade had been doing some routine checks so they decided to sprinkle the ballet. It was an utter internet sensation. Kirov can Bollockoff was the headline on the Sun the next day. Two days with 2 ballet headlines in the sun, was the editor drunk, or just drunk on ballet.   

Linking his arm through the senior partner’s arm the Italian walked back to the law office, the crowds had gathered, his car could never get through now. I like you, your firm, your security Tony, I like everything, like a family, and I adore the ballet. This is the happiest day of my business life ever. Only when I bought the racing car company comes a 2^nd closest, to this day. Ballet in Birmingham day, I think I’ll tell my biographer to write a whole page about it, maybe two.

The Birmingham Royal Ballet went inside to change, Catherine and Anton decided to consummate their love in a box of the Hippodrome. Damien and Martin were ahead of them, in a box on the other side of the Hippodrome. As they say Ballet is Universal, the Birmingham Royal Ballet encapsulates it all. And yes I really was vetted by a Chinese Ballerina from the Birmingham Royal Ballet in the Queens Tavern about 20 years ago. Where do you thing the ideas come from?