Photo Shoot

Photo Shoot ©

By

Michael Casey

Where do you want me to leave my clothes, on the floor next to mine came the reply. That’s the old joke about Photo Shoots, so you can picture the scene of me naked on the floor like Barbarella with a man or should it be a woman photographing me. Though that wouldn’t explain what I did this morning, though it was a male photographer, with an assistant, who was male also. No I wasn’t being photoed for any random magazine, no inner Burt Reynolds revealing all.

No, in actual fact we were taking photos not of me but of my newly painted house. Wide angel of course to fit everything in, just like my large Kardasian size rear end, all natural of course. It was time to show my wares, or rather the house’s wares, all wide open, and ready for potential buyers.

In the end once we had fully moved out I reluctantly decided to take my clothes off, or rather repaint and touch up the house before exposing it to the camera. Then in all its made up glory it could expose itself as it really was, nice and big with plenty of space for fun and frolics. Which did remind me of several things, which I’ll leave to your imagination.

So the photographer went around flashing his laser to get the sizes of the rooms, very Stars Wars. Then he went around taking photos while I chatted to the assistant. I explained the History of this room and that room, after 32 years there was more History than a Michael Jackson album, which I’ve manages to lose during the move. I explained how I had balanced a type writer on a stool as I sat on a broken backed chaired and typed away. The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker was written in the living room in front of the gas fire, then on Leap Years Day 1988 it was completed. However a few years later in an upstairs bedroom it was enlarged into 600+ pages on an Atari 1040.

All this I leave behind with just the painted walls for witnesses. The walls cannot talk though they do have ears, they cannot lie, but they do cry, Michael Casey Writer, the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England was no more, well moved on.

It does feel different freshly painted and naked, no not a model but the walls, without any of my paintings on them. No stray socks or shirts or dirty girls knickers littering the bathroom, just the smell of fresh paint everywhere. Outside my Shamrock still clung on to the garden wall like mountaineers, so I grabbed some and will transplant it to the new house further up the hill.

The house itself is not totally naked a few bits and pieces we have left behind, perfect for a buy to let, or a first time buyer. We upgraded our life at the new place, it will probably be the house I die in, without many years of pain, but it’s all up to God. As the bedroom photos  were taken I spread myself on a bed and minced, you have to have a mince at Christmas after all. The assistant laughed and the photographer handed me some money, I told him I could do so much more for a few quid more. I was dressed all in red, like Santa with his beard shaved off. The photographer has a sense of humour, but he’s never getting that 30 pence back, not ever, ever. Not even for a Harry Potter’s Field.

I noted I’d never actually sat on those chairs because they were too low for me post quadruple heart bypass, so I sat like a fool in a corner on a hard wooden chair instead. As I looked around several memories came back, like deciding to get double glazing all those years ago. I carried on boring the assistant with tales of this and that, only stopping to let the photographer out to photograph the nice garden we have.

So Finally it was all over, soon the place will finally pass over to a new family. Time wasters will have been banished , and a new beginning will begin for somebody else. See if they can write17 books and have 2 beautiful daughters inside these  four walls that will become their home. So all there is for me to do now is to take my clothes off and run around the house naked for one last time. The photographer and the assistant refused to take those photographers, they are not allowed on Rightmove after all. So I’m stood here naked shivering while I wait for Lucy Lu from the Korea shop to come and take my photograph, she is such a great photographer, normally she takes snaps of dishes for the takeaway food website. Just Eat as they say.