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 MichaelCasey’sBlogs2011©
by
Michael Casey
1. Window Shopping ©
by Michael Casey
Well the cold has got me so I’m all bunged up and
drinking gallons of hot drinks, the kettle is whistling
so wait a sec. Ah that’s better, another hot coffee, then
I’ll switch to hot blackcurrant. Why do colds come at
Xmas? They are as predictable as carol singers. I only
ever tried carol singing once as a child that’s another
memory that has rushed back to me.
Rosie told me she believed that if you looked at a toy
shop window you could see all the toys but at night when
you were not there they all came to life. She was a child
at the time, but I hope she lets that memory come to life
often. My kids still believe in Santa as do I, I go for
the fittings of his new costume at Slaters every
Christmas, and then Santa comes along for the final
fitting, we are about the same size you see. You could
say I am his body double, just like in the films.
But back to Slaters, now they only have a small shop
window then you take the lift upstairs and it’s a bit
like an Aladdin’s cave. But speaking of shop windows and
window shopping there are many ways to window shop. The
real world one can be tiring trudging around the shops,
especially if you have a young and fashionable wife. So I
soon realised the best way was to let her go on her own
while I had peace and quiet, then once we had kids she
took the kids and I had peace and quiet. The perfect
solution, especially as I paid the bill. Young girls
become very fashion conscience, so they were the perfect
mirror, to say mum this is good or this is bad. I’m sure
Shanghai husbands/boyfriends agree with me, perhaps there
should be a club for the Shanghai husbands/boyfriends
Me I look in 2 shop windows and know they won’t have my
size, and then I head for Slaters, sometime with the
family in toe, then its like lightning, flash bang
whallop, I’ve got all I need. That’ll do me for a year or
two.
I do like looking in watch shop windows, watches are a
weakness of mine, why are men’s watches so huge nowadays,
its like having an alarm clock strapped to your wrist. I
tend to go for the elegant ones, or the elegant ones in
my opinion. The ones with multi dials and buttons to
press and turn are a turnoff. Oris ones are nice, as are
Omega. Yes I do dream of having one of those when I win
the lottery or finally sell some books. My first watch
was for passing the 11plus, its all in The Watch and Me
an essay on my site www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
Now we are in a technological world, we have windows on
the world via our tv and our computer. I was telling my
girls earlier today that we only had 2 or 3 tv channels
when I was their age, they could not believe it. So what
do we do with our tv/computer eyes ?We window shop.
Obviously I look at watches and dream of my automatic
Oris or Omega, and how nice it would be. I have had maybe
20years these past 20 years or so. I’m forever carrying
things and banging my watches. One steamed up and the
front fell off so I superglued the glass back on, only I
glued the hands together.
What else do I window shop? Well when I need a new winter
coat I look at the web sites and see what I can see in
xxl or 2xl as it’s called nowadays. Window shopping on the
web allows me to see what’s available, the designs and so
forth, all from the comfort of my own home, as you’ve
seen from the photos on my website. The government
encourages all this window shopping because it helps
trade and that in turn helps their tax take, which in
turn should help us. We do finally leave our homes and
visit town and buy stuff and have a beer and a meal while
we are at it.
We all look online before we book our holidays, some look
online for love, romance, sex. And then they book their
holidays. Online is our eyes, nobody will believe how old
fashioned the world used to be, my grandkids won’t
believe the Internet was invented, its as ordinary as
trees growing in a back garden, its always been there. In
the future there will be guided tours explaining about
Window Shopping, about holding hands in the rain, about
blokes gathered in the doorway talking about MU while
their wives/girlfriends try on stuff. Window Shopping is
part of world culture, it’s the 3rd oldest occupation in
the world after sex and stories comes Window Shopping.
2. What's on the Internet?
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
Michael G Casey Email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com
Internet Story ©
By
Michael Casey
So all I had to do was send an email , and then I’d be a
writer , my book in every shop , my face smirking from
cardboard cut outs of me holding my book aloft . My book
had a great title , so it was bound to sell . A Nation Of
Shopkeepers was a great title , if only people could
remember their History , were people interested in
History , and for that matter my book . It wasn’t a
history book , would people think it WAS a history book ,
and then not buy it . It was a comedy drama , about a
street of shops , interconnecting short stories , for all
the family , but would people notice the levels , the
strands of humour , or would they say it’s a Ma & Pa book
, and miss the joke , just as one publisher called did ?
I decided to keep the title , though I had a reserve
title , The Butcher , The Baker and The Undertaker . Then
I realised the US market would rename it The Butcher ,
The Baker And The Funeral Arranger . You don’t think
about such things when you are writing the book , you’re
just happy , on a roll , in love with your own intellect
, or just surprised you actually DO have any intellect ,
then you discover that you are dyslexic , you really are
dyslexic , thankfully not a really bad case , just
dyslexic . As you proof read you see you have put BUT
instead PUT , LEAD instead of READ , things like this and
other strange things . Sure there are spellcheckers but
or is it put , you have to check it anyway . As you read
you are surprised at your own ability . You didn’t waste
4years in journalism school , but your writing is GOOD ,
Did I write that ? Then your chest filled with pride you
get somebody else to read it , and guess what ? They
think its crap . So now you have to decide , should I
give up or should I carry on ?
I gave up for as while , while is a unit of years in my
case , my life took another path , so the writing was
forgotten , it lay dormant for years , then like a
phoenix it arose , or more truthfully , like a tortoise
awaking from hibernation , sleep still in my eyes I
slowly poked my head out , then back in , went back to
sleep again , then finally with the pangs of hunger in my
stomach I just had to do something . In my case it was
eat , as in really eat , then I turned to my old Atari
and realised it was not PC compatible , so I bought a new
, or rather an old new Atari which was PC compatible .
Then I spent a day copying my files so that I could read
them on a PC . Then I wrote a few more pieces before I
realised I’d get nowhere in England . The chances of
being published were 1 in 2000 . So like a bear , I went
back in my cave and slumbered .
Meeting my wife Jing Jie was a turning point in my life ,
and not just because it was like Thunder as Jing Jie
calls it , it was a turning point because I had a
professional opinion on my writing , from a journalist at
the very top of the tree . Her uncle is an editor in
chief , so his comments were and are like gold , worth
more than my first coffee and Cadbury’s chocolate , the
pleasure rush I treat myself to every day , his comments
really were that important to me , and I really DO like
my Cadbury’s , so being better than Cadbury’s is the
highest praise I can give . So I knew the quality of my
writing , even if others said and say its crap .
Getting a modern PC and internet connection was another
turning point . Email in our house is like water and
eclectic in any other homes . Jing Jie can “talk” to her
mum in Shanghai every day . To friends all over the world
as well . Birmingham IS the centre of the universe .So
with hope and fear I had to transfer my files from my old
Atari to the new PC . The floppy discs were old and
battered , several were unreadable , finally my work , my
babies were safely on the new PC . Just to be on the safe
side I set up a web site , so now my work was on
somebody’s server in the US , thousands of miles away ,
safe from fire or theft . I could also put our new baby’s
photos on the web site so that my Chinese family in
Shanghai and Miami and friends all over the world could
see Annie and Jing Jie and me , they could even read my
work too .
So now all I had to do was market my work in the US ,
simple really , soon I’d be doing something useful with
my life , making people laugh . I’d be a writing whore ,
I’d get paid to make others laugh , the best job in the
world . So how would I set about it ? I got a list of
radio stations from the internet and started sending
emails galore . I’m talking in the hundreds now , to
radio stations the length and breath of the US .They
could publicise my site then eventually I’d get published
, or my play would get produced . It was simple wasn’t it
. So merrily I went about my business , sending emails
galore . Years before I used to send off big heavy
envelopes with my work in , with more persistence than
hope in my heart .”Thank you for your pieces of paper “was
the best put down . I once even met a writer and he
agreed to read my play Shoplife , then he wrote back
calling me a plagiarist , because it was so good . So I
used his note as toilet paper , Shoplife was so good
because I had 20years of experience given to me by my
sister , I just improved on it , but yet I was called a
Copyist , so naturally I was angry and used his note to
wipe my bum .
I wondered why my strike rate was so low with my emails
to radio stations , then somebody casually mentioned ,
“You do know they will just delete anything with an
attachment” . In these days of viruses or worms which
I’ve discovered is the new trendy word , nobody can risk
their PC , so I merrily send and they merrily delete .
I’d been wasting my time , but not my money because I’d
got a 24/7 package on my internet from AOL .However one
radio station did read Shoplife . The DJ or is it Host ,
he called it hilarious and he could not stop reading it .
It turned out he was an actor as well , though isn’t
everybody an actor in the US ?So I thanked him , and
quoted him in my future advertising .Humour is a funny
thing . The things that make English people laugh are not
the same as the things that make Americans’ laugh . We
are constantly told by people on tv that English TV is
the best in the world , the US material we see is the top
10% , the rest is rubbish . But I know I’d never get my
foot in the door in England so I had to persist with my
American campaign , so now I pasted in my material , no
attachments . Just get them hooked , then paste in a
sample then direct them to www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
Then bingo part2 of my life could begin ,I’d be the man
that made America laugh , a naïve sentiment , but it was
honest .Only AOL turns things into zip files and some
people can’t unzip your files , it’s like wanting sex but
your zipper is broke and you can’t get your trousers off
. Such a strong urge , but no fulfilment .
I switched to MSMAIL and pasted in my stuff , things
started to happen , my files weren’t being deleted or too
zipped up to be read . At least I wasn’t frustrated any
more . Now I had an agent interested , and a new magazine
, even a theatre replied .All praise to Bill Gates , and
to a Christian called Pat Verato who pointed me in the
direction of a few good sites .However some of the sites
that I trawled through were just , so very American . Hey
, you too can be a writer , just send me 10 dollars and
I’ll send you my book “How to make 10 dollars” , and he
does . Then there’s magazines you can subscribe to , yes
you’ve guessed it , just send another 10 dollars “Writing
for Beginners” . There’s all these agents too who are so
successful , persuading tap dancing bus drivers to write
about Tap Dancing For Bus Drivers , the complete self
help book , costs 10 dollars . The agent gets 20percent ,
and the bus driver pays 5000dollars to print 500 copies ,
then he can boast he’s a writer , not just a bus driver ,
and guess what if you pay 10 dollars you can learn to tap
dance too .
As for me , what do I think of all this ? I’d say just
keep on writing , stop your selling , or attempts at
selling , just write a bit . Add to your catalogue of 3
poems and 2 short stories , then search for an agent .
Believe you’ll never be published and then you won’t be
disappointed. There is one final thing you can do though
, just tell everybody to go to my site
www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
And help find a publisher for my book , and then you’ve
guessed it , just send me 10 dollars !
End
3. I know your face
I know your face ©
By Michael Casey
Somebody said he knew my face today, he was looking at a
photo of me on my site www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com But
100,000 people know my face, I worked at a 4star hotel
for a few years so that many guests must have seen me. I
have brothers and cousins, so I suppose my face could
look familiar. My hair is distinctive, it went white,
silver if you’re generous to me, it went silver 20 years
before it should have. I’m “granddad” on the school run.
In songs a face changes things, “when I saw her face” the
Monkees sang, I was small when their show was on tv.
“Take that look off your face” another song sings. For
the Chinese its about not losing face, saving face is
important. Putting a face to a name is what we say when
we meet after just phone or email contact. Faces are
important, we can see each other, we can see each other’s
reactions, the look of love or the sneer of contempt.
Fear written on a face, tired and worn out, sad eyes,
pained eyes all of this is on a face. But what about a
mother’s face, love is written all over it, kindness and
compassion and laughter too. My wife took my mother’s
photo to Shanghai to introduce her to my Chinese family,
my mother had died a few years previously but the photo
showed them the depths of love, the oceans of love, all
of this from the smile on her face. A face is a door to
the soul, a way to the heart, a sign showing just how
much spirit of love is inside a person. A face is a road
map for love, so always be open, a hard uncaring, a hard
look is self defeating, I’m strong, leave the face
pulling alone, leave it for heavy weight boxers. Me I
hope I have a ready smile, a warm look just as it was
given me by my parents and by my heritage. His face
reminds me of Santa, now that is a face worth keeping.
Smile Everybody.
4. Counting Money ©
By Michael Casey
The King was in his counting house accounting out his
money when down came a Blackbird…
We all remember this from school days, days getting
further away from us all the time.
We all know how to save the pennies, save the pennies and
the pounds will look after themselves.
Make ends meet, what does that mean, touching your toes
perhaps?
Scrimp and save, things are tight, does that mean you are
fat? Or lack of money.
We all learn about money when we are small. We remember
the sound of loose change in dad’s pocket.
We were getting a treat because Dad was getting money
out, we could hear the sound we were happy.
I’m old enough to remember real money, pounds shillings
and pence money.
It was 12 pennies to the shilling and 20 shillings to a
pound, and horses were sold in guinnies, if I’ve spelt it
right.
Our money confused my American cousins, but it was fun
explaining it to them. A halfpenny, a penny, a threepenny
bit, a sixpence, a shilling, a florin, a half a crown,
crowns I next saw, an orange 10 shillings note and then a
pound note, and then other notes which I never got to see
because I was too small.
Explain all that to a foreigner and they were totally
lost, going to the moon was easier to understand.
I’m old enough to remember the joy of the Apollo landing,
we were the world, everything was so exciting, Apollo and
Ali not to mention the Beatles and real money.
A penny was made of copper and so was the half penny, the
threepenny bit was six sided with a portcullis design on
it, it went green with age. The sixpence was very slim
slimmer that today’s 5 new pence. The shilling was
thicker and perhaps bigger than today’s 10pence. It was
real money and the sweets it bought were so much better
than today’s sweets, or so it seems.
We knew about money because we had lodgers and they came
to the back door to pay the rent, sometimes barely able
to stand up, smoke and beer belching over us kids. Are
you alright Mrs Casey? As they leant on the lintel for
support, staggering away to the pub again.
The gas and electric meters had to be emptied and the
money counted. We had a copper coloured metal jug which
had the keys for the locks on the meters inside it, when
dad had then we knew he’d be counting soon. He emptied
the money on the kitchen table and started counting,
piles of coins, shillings and florins.
Dad was like a Casino croupier counting and stacking the
coins. Then when he’d finished he’d put the coins in
little plastic bags, and after that in a small leather
black bag. This was his lunch bag for work at the
foundry, but when the gas or electric bill came it was
the bag for the money. I was charged with walking down to
the corner shop, there I’d present the money to Mr Singh
who wouldn’t even weigh it, just throw it in his safe and
peel off the money from his very large wad from his back
pocket. Smiling we’d say our goodbyes both happy with the
exchange. Who needs a bank when you have a corner shop?
There are more stories to tell, but I’ll save those for
another day.
TTFN
Michael
5. We Are Words
We Are Words (c)
By
Michael Casey
Words have meaning words have power
Words are nothing but hot air
Words mean this words mean that
Words can set you free
Words can send you to jail
Words can be sprayed on a wall like cat's pee
Words can be printed on a press and sell millions
Words can be illuminated one at a time by Monks
Words are lies words are truth
Words can send you to war
Words can bring peace
We are Words
In the Beginning was the word
But what is the last word
6. If Music Be The Food Of Love ©
By
Michael Casey
If Music Be The Food Of Love wrote Shakespeare, he was
right, Music Is The Food Of Love. A boy can get up
close and personal if he has the right mood music. A
girl’s heart will melt if he has the right song on his
hifi, or should I say IPod. Music touches us, it makes
our hearts beat faster, just as a bit of flesh revealed
makes our eyes dilate.
In the interests of balance should I reverse the
sentence, a boy’s heart will melt, or a gay lover’s heart
will melt etc. Let’s take that as read, Love does
Conquer All as my mum once encouraged me, and if you look
at my family photo you’ll see IT DID.
Now Music has been a big thing in my life, since 1974 to
be exact. How can I be so exact? Well my brother went off
to be a coal miner then, that was his gap year before
they were even invented. He did go off to a very good
University the year after, the very best to be exact. So
while he was a miner I was all alone in the homework
room. To break the silence I listened to a radio while I
did my homework. So love of music while I struggled with
Latin homework, Latin is a form of torture but it does
focus the mind, I’m pleased to say I got a B. Remember
the Ablative Absolute is like, say, remember the Alamo.
Years later I used to go to a Folk club and see 3 bands
every week. Later still I went to a Jazz club, mainly
Trad Jazz, so I know a good or bad musician when I hear
one, and I know a good voice when I hear one. If ever I
develop cancer it will be because of all the years of
smoke while I listened to music. The idea for the Jazz
band and Jazz funeral in The Butcher The Baker and The
Undertaker came from all those years of music.
I love my radio so much, it was and still is a constant
companion. Though before I got my own house I also
listened to plays on Radio 4, I can spot one from
100yards now, 20years of listening to Radio 4 before I
took up a pen myself. But it’s music I want to tell you
about. Music is a reservoir of emotions, past and
present. Elvis brings back memories, why? My dad
discovered Elvis in his 60s, there was a series of Elvis
films on TV over Christmas so my dad watched them all and
was impressed. If there was a good song on the radio dad
would raise the volume and then lower it again when the
other rubbish returned. Dad would be shaving in the
kitchen because the bathroom was too cold and he’d come
in the living room all lathered up and he’d say he/she
has a good voice.
Me, I’m very eclectic in my tastes though Regaee does
leave me cold, its washing machine music the same repeat
motion/noise as a washing machine. Yes I know a whole
avalanche of criticism will fall on me, but as Joanne
used to say “we are all different” so let’s agree to
disagree. What’s amazing nowadays is that lots of the
music I remember is 40years old. I was young when I heard
Eric Clapton for example because of bigger brothers, so
now it makes me realise I’m getting old, being called
“grandpa” by teachers when I do the school run is one
example. I tend to listen to Magic radio on my dab radio,
because the music is good and they don’t prattle over the
songs. But I still am amazed at the age of some of the
music, but it’s the music that’s old, NOT ME, I still
feel 20 in my head.
Today Lady Gaga is Queen, she has a great voice and is
very pretty, ok very sexy. Her videos are fun and she
seems to know how to stay ahead of the music and other
press. You get so many wanna bes who if you listen to
their voice really are 2nd rate, 1 hit wonders. I
suppose the test is, if you listen to your dab radio and
hear a voice do you want to open your eyes and poke your
head out from under the duvet. If the voice is good then
you will because the dab text will tell you who is
singing. On some of the tv talent shows the voices are
terrible, but when you hear a good voice you can press
record on your Sky+ remote. If my dad was still alive
he’d raise the volume on the radio to listen to Lady
Gaga, if he saw her he might think she was a modern
Dorethy Lamore in a Bob Hope and Bing Crosby Road Movie.
But Gaga is already making her own Road To movies and
they really are a modern form of Art.
7. Bring On The Tears ©
By
Michael Casey
What makes you cry? I’ve just wiped a few tears away
before I started talking to you. Today in 11th Nov 2010,
which is Remembrance day, it is also my dad’s Birthday,
he would have been 89 today.
My dad was a man of peace who spent his life in the heat
of the furnace,The District Iron and Steel, Brasshouse
Lane was where he worked for 40 years. He came over to
England in 1944, he was a blacksmith. My father was a
gentle man a kind and caring man, hew spoilt me he always
got me an extra ice cream when he was on holiday, my many
siblings called me Pet because of it.
If there was a film on tv and it was touching, my dad
used to clear his throat and pretend he was getting a
cold, he move to the kitchen to dab away those tears. Or
he’d put the kettle on. My dad was very very strong,
after our mum had died he said she was strong, he said
mum was as strong as a horse, the highest compliment a
blacksmith can make. My mother died in her sleep next to
her husband of nearly 50year. My brother climbed into
the bed and cradled her in his arms and tried CPR but she
was already dead. Eight weeks later, the same brother
heard a noise, it was our dad falling out of bed. My
brother laid dad down on the bedroom floor flat and
started CPR, he screamed to another brother, 999.My
brother saved our dad.
I wrote all of this down in Padre Pio and Me. The bottom
line, I have a Shanghai wife and 2 bilingual daugthers
all because of my brother and Padre Pio too.
When we look at an object we have an association too, an
object is not just an object its an association too. The
electrical socket for my washing machine is there because
my dad put it there, it doesn’t mean I cry every time I
do the laundry, but it does mean I smile. I have an old
barn chair with the back broken off, my mum used to
stand on it when she washed the outdoor windows, its been
in my house nearly a quarter of a century. This reminds
me of my mum. In fact I sat on that chair with the old
typewriter balanced on a red stool when I wrote my comic
novel The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, I can
even remember when and where we bought that stool, it
was 1973. Simple objects are full of memories and
meaning. In Citizen Kane it was Rosebud the sledge that
meant so much when Kane died.
I had a pair of Rosary beads but I felt they were too
gaudy, so I gave them to my mum. No doubt she used them
well, she really knew how to pray. That may have been 15
to 20 years ago, now she’s gone, but my brother said he
had a spare set of Rosary bead would I like them. So he
have them to me, he said they belonged to our mum, and
yes they were the very same pair. So love and “objects”
had performed a circle. My sister’s house has white
lillies scattered all about her front garden, they only
appeared after our mum had died. Mum had sneaked up to my
sister’s house and planted them with Love. So after she
was gone there appeared a reminder of her and her Love.
I have a speaker in the corner of my living room, my
brother used to play Cream music on it via a reel to reel
tape recorder. So that too has an association. I did in
fact meet Eric Clapton when I was working in a 4star
hotel, so that in a way was a circle.
There are many things and many lives that touch and
connect with one another, such as the lolly pop lady when
you do the school run, or the nice dog tied up outside a
school waiting for the kids to finish school.There are
grand gestures too, such as in My Big Fat Greek Wedding
the dad buys his daughter a house, right next door to his
own. All this is love in many many forms and I’ve just
touched the surface. I can remember my mum crying her
eyes out over a broken wooden coat hanger, why? Because
her mother had given it to her in 1944 when she had left
Kerry for England. Many things Bring On The Tears, but
they are tears of Love.
8. If You Go Down To The Woods Today ©
By
Michael Casey
Well we all know about Teddy Roosevelt and how he could
not bring himself to shoot a bear while out hunting.
Teddy Bear came into existence. Thousands of bears,
millions of bears, probably more bears than there are
people in China have “Lived” thanks to teddy. I bought my
future wife a panda when we first met, the panda was
made in China, just as she was. In fact she used to say
I was her Panda before she changed her mind and called me
Panzi in Chinese which means FAT FAT BOY. So that panda
travelled from China to England and then back to China,
and then she brought it back home to England when she
came back to me, that’s 15,000 miles by my reckoning. My
daughters have been back and forth a few times, when you
marry a Shanghai girl international travel is inevitable.
Girls just love their teddy bears too, my smallest just
adores Winnie the Pooh, she was saying a few hours ago
she wished she could have a Winnie the pooh bed and
carpet and wallpaper, basically everything that could
possibly be Winnie the Pooh. My girls have received lots
of cuddly toys, teddy bears and all things cuddly. I did
a count a while back and I stopped at 40. These toys live
behind the settee next to the vacuum cleaner and my old
collection of CDs. Every now and then my small daughter
drags them out from the 3 Plastic bag carrier bags and
makes them pay attention, she plays teacher and they are
her class. She then takes the register before starting to
read to them. The cuddly toys sit up straight listening
eagerly while she reads to them, she is quite a strict
teacher.
Now a while back while the wife was tidying up the
plastic bag with the cuddly toys broke open scattering
teddies everywhere. So we had to have a cull, you have
to feed fizzy pop gently to the toys until they fall
asleep only to awake at the North Pole where Santa
welcomes them and makes them as good as new until they
become new toys for new owners. We had to have another
cull today, my small daughter separated the sheep from
the goats so to speak. Then the unwanted toys were placed
in an Plastic bag carrier next to the front door, no
fizzy pop for them, just a plastic bag, in the morning
they will find themselves in a charity shop soon to have
new children to love them. There was one cuddly toy a
hush puppy dog that we had brought back from Florida
years ago neither of my girls liked it, but I do so I
have rescued him from the Plastic bag bag, he can live on
top of my bedroom Dab radio. I cannot decide what to call
the dog, my new best friend, we bought it in a shoe shop,
HushPuppy maybe, or Subway the dog. We always said if we
have a real dog we’d call him subway.
Christmas is coming so the smaller cuddly toys have been
saved and will decorate our house once Christmas gets
nearer. For now my daughter has arranged them on top of
the piano, looking over my shoulder I can see, Winnie the
Pooh(of course), Tigger and another Winnie the Pooh, a
snowman with bells, a cat from Shanghai who’s chasing
Minnie Mouse along the keys, it sounds like Jazz and
finally there is a smiling teddy with Christmas hat and
gloves on. Well I hope the toys find nice new homes via
the Charity shop, as for me I hope HushPuppy/Subway
hasn’t left any messages on my Dab radio.
9. Teddy Bear Cull ©
By
Michael Casey
Well we all know about Teddy Roosevelt and how he could
not bring himself to shoot a bear while out hunting.
Teddy Bear came into existence. Thousands of bears,
millions of bears, probably more bears than there are
people in China have “Lived” thanks to teddy. I bought my
future wife a panda when we first met, the panda was
made in China, just as she was. In fact she used to say
I was her Panda before she changed her mind and called me
Panzi which means FAT FAT BOY. So that panda travelled
from China to England and then back to China, and then
she brought it back home to England when she came back
to me, that’s 15,000 miles by my reckoning. My daughters
have been back and forth a few times, when you marry a
Shanghai girl international travel is inevitable.
Girls just love their teddy bears too, my smallest just
adores Winnie the Pooh, she was saying a few hours ago
she wished she could have a Winnie the pooh bed and
carpet and wallpaper, basically everything that could
possibly be Winnie the Pooh. My girls have received lots
of cuddly toys, teddy bears and all things cuddly. I did
a count a while back and I stopped at 40. These toys live
behind the settee next to the vacuum cleaner and my old
collection of CDs. Every now and then my small daughter
drags them out from the 3 Iceland carrier bags and makes
them pay attention, she plays teacher and they are her
class. She then takes the register before starting to
read to them. The cuddly toys sit up straight listening
eagerly while she reads to them, she is quite a strict
teacher.
Now a while back while the wife was tidying up the
plastic bag with the cuddly toys broke open scattering
teddies everywhere. So we had to have a cull, you have
to feed fizzy pop gently to the toys until they fall
asleep only to awake at the North Pole where Santa
welcomes them and makes them as good as new until they
become new toys for new owners. We had to have another
cull today, my small daughter separated the sheep from
the goats so to speak. Then the unwanted toys were placed
in an Iceland carrier next to the front door, no fizzy
pop for them, just a plastic bag, in the morning they
will find themselves in a charity shop soon to have new
children to love them. There was one cuddly toy a hush
puppy dog that we had brought back from Florida years
ago neither of my girls liked it, but I do so I have
rescued him from the Iceland bag, he can live on top of
my bedroom Dab radio. I cannot decide what to call the
dog, my new best friend, HushPuppy maybe, or Subway the
dog.
Christmas is coming so the smaller cuddly toys have been
saved and will decorate our house one Christmas gets
nearer. For now my daughter has arranged them on top of
the piano, looking over my shoulder I can see, Winnie the
Pooh(of course), Tigger and another Winnie the Pooh, a
snowman with bells, a cat from Shanghai who’s chasing
Minnie Mouse along the keys, it sounds like Jazz and
finally there is a smiling teddy with Christmas hat and
gloves on. Well I hope the toys find nice new homes via
the Charity shop, as for me I hope HushPuppy/Subway
hasn’t left any messages on my Dab radio.
10. From Fireworks to The Grave ©
By
Michael Casey
The girls were singing at a Wedding Yesterday morning,
they came home telling us about the bride and groom. They
also heard that there was a fireworks display that night.
They asked could they go, so I said yes if they behaved.
They behaved all afternoon, so at half past six I nagged
them top put on full winter gear, hat, coat, scarf and
gloves. They wouldn’t believe me that it would be that
cold outside but I explained it would. So reluctantly
they put all the layers on. The witch as we call my wife
drove up to the firework display. It was behind the
church where they had been singing a few hours earlier.
My wife, or the witch said she’d collect us a few hours
later, she said I could ring her. Only I had forgotten to
bring the mobile phone, I have only acquired a mobile
phone this year and I don’t really know how to use it, an
I don’t really want it either, its for emergencies, its
on the Asda tariff because that’s the cheapest. Its my
wife’s 1st phone. Anyway we said goodbye and we went to
watch the firework show.
Only there was a problem, the price to attend was too
much, I have to watch every penny at the moment and I
didn’t think it was worth it anyway. So we stood on the
pavement in front and to one side of the church. From
that vantage point we enjoyed the fireworks display, a
bit like watching tv though your neighbours window. There
were a few other families who did the same. So we
watched the fireworks while my 9 year old filmed it on
our old digital camera, she was very pleased with her
efforts. I promised them we’d buy sweets and pop to make
up for not seeing the fireworks display officially. My
girls understood and after 20mins of illegal watching of
fireworks we started to walk home. As I had forgotten the
phone we’d have to walk and not get a lift from mum. But
I do know how to improvise, it’s a gift I do have.
We stopped at the 1st sweet shop and they roamed around,
but girls being girls they could not make up their minds,
so they left that sweet shop with nothing. Now from the
church to our house is a good 25min walk and is twisty
and curvy and runs alongside the woods at Warley Woods
and golf course. So as its was the Eve of Halloween I
asked them did they want to walk through the dark woods.
No they both said, but I knew they would like it so we
crossed on the crossings which cross the race track of a
road. The boldly we went a few yards into the dark dark
woods. We were only there for a minute but it was a good
thing to do so close to Halloween. Then we crossed back
to the safer side of the road. My smallest daughter
wanted a rest so we stopped at a bus stop and sat on the
plastic seats, I told them that I had a bus pass, would
they like me to leave them there while I jumped on the
bus.
After a couple of minutes rest we resumed our trek back,
were we like the Von Trapp family, no Swiss mountains for
us, only the long and winding road. The kids could see
the retaining wall of their school, from that point on,
even in the dark they knew their way home. Spirits lifted
I had an idea. My big daughter’s friend lived just down
the road on a side road. So when we were outside her
friend’s house we did ghostly noises, just like in Michael
Jackson’s Thriller. I thought I made the best screams.
Sadly no lights went on in the house, not unless we had
given her nan a heart attack. Further down the road by the
light of a front room we could see a child in a witches
Hat he was pretending to be a witch. It turned out that
he was a friend of my other daughter, this was too good
an opportunity to miss, so again we made ghost and ghoul
noises. The child inside lifted the curtain to check was
the devil outside, no it was only us. My big daughter
laughed and laughed when she say his face appear, she hid
beneath the high retaining front wall and then ran
laughing to use further down the road.
We went to Thimbermill and got our chocolate and Dr
Pepper, we had had some fun after all. My small daughter
had said when we were in the dark dark park that she
had seen a cross, we were in a graveyard. I think it was
the support posts for a sapling, not unless it was….
Finally home we decided to scare mum, our resident witch,
so my big daughter did her big scream and she managed to
scare the neighbours over the road, but mum had the last
laugh, she was sitting in dark watching a Chinese movie
on the internet so when we entered the house she scared
us.
Well that’s how we enjoyed our Saturday night. Tonight
31st Oct 2010 we had several trick or treats at the door,
so I just screamed back I’m dead,” followed by my best
Vincent Price scream/laugh. But the kids and parents
weren’t impressed. Today does mark an anniversary, its
11years since I was made redundant from CAN been a few
varied years, and best of all I have two daughters whom I
can stroll in the dark with Don’t tell anybody though,
my witch is more like Bewitched
11. My Arm Chair
by Michael Casey
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.wordpress.com
12. The Simpsons are modern Shakespeare
The Simpsons are modern Shakespeare ©
By Michael Casey
I just read a piece in this morning’s DT it was about the
Vatican’s newspaper 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.wordpress.com for my stuff, more like an
Ealing Comedy. But back to today the Vatican/Jesuit take
on the Simpsons. My girls tease and say I’m like the dad
in the Simpsons, I tell them I’m much much slimmer.
Comedy pokes fun and draws us closer together as we laugh
at what’s happening, and a big part is laughing at
others’ suffering, PC people will spin in their graves,
and the soon the better.
There was a really good series on tv about Shakespeare
and how he could have been a secret Catholic amongst
other things, not to mention his eclectic background, he
could touch bases with so many things because of his life
experience. So the Simpsons touch bases with us because
it highlights the worst in us all, and then we laugh at
ourselves, there is no “I couldn’t possibly be like
that” because we ARE like that. I suppose in the New
Testament the common touch in the language/life draws us
towards the Divine, The Simpsons could it be called the
common man’s Bible? I don’t know, you’ll have to read
more of the Bible and watch more of the Simpsons. And ask
the Jesuits who write the Vatican newspaper, me I’m going
to find my deck of cards you may remember the song.
13. Which Way Do You Look?
By
Michael Casey
Which way do you look? I’m thinking of this because it’s
an anniversary today, so it got me thinking. I also
heard today about the funeral arrangements for our old
priest, he was the priest who came to the house to
confirm that our mum was indeed dead, when my dad saw him
enter the house with my brother and sister my dad started
to cry. So now we cry for that priest.
Events make you look this way and make you look that way.
Events touch us and pain us, events make us laugh and
make us sigh. Today in Chile the whole nation screams in
celebration, to be honest the whole world smiles too, we
are the world.
When you look in a mirror which way do you look? If you
are a girl or a lady you look at your body and wonder is
it as you want it to be. Is your hair good this way or
that way, do those clothes really suit you or should you
take them back to the shop to exchange them, you’ve tried
20 things to match them but they just don’t work with
your wardrobe. Yes you’ll take them back, I mean your
mirror is so much better than the one in the shop, and
why don’t husbands understand about clothes.
Men look in mirrors for 2 seconds as they drag the comb
through their hair, they never seem to notice the stubble
on their chins, or the paint on their jumpers, they shame
their wives.
Do you look forward or do you look backward? It depends
on how your life is doing. If you’re on the dole with no
hope you may look backward to when you had a job and the
money that went with it. You’re afraid to look ahead it’s
looking into the gloom, it’s 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.
14. A Winter's Day
As I look from my window I see the blue blue sky. Birds
dive and soar better than any circus acrobat, they are
painting a picture with their wings. Tiny tiny whisps of
white cloud remain, like left over candy floss on a
childs face, like white whiskers on a very old woman’s
face.
Curtains are pulled open and windows are inched open too,
daylight and fresh air to bedrooms shuttered down against
a cold winters night. People stand and yarn and scratch
too as they struggle to wake up fully. Then one or two
realise they don’t wear any pyjamas so they hurry away
from their windows, their wives, their husbands, their
lovers laughing at their stupidity. At least old Mrs
Jones may have had a thrill.
The sounds of morning, of daylight rise. Slowly the sound
of the milk float, the sounds of milk bottles clinking
together as the milkman does his rounds, this way and
that. The sound of of Mrs Murphy walking her dog, the dog
panting in the cold winters air. He doesn’t have a
sheepskin coat to keep him warm. He has his own fur coat
but this winter is a cold one, so Goldie the dog could do
with an extra coat too.
People dance down their door steps to their car, nagging
children to hurry up as its cold. Children write their
name in the frost on their neighbours’ cars before being
told off. John the neighbourhood jogger rushes past, the
kids stick their tongue out at him, he does the same,
they all laugh, only for John to miss his stride slip on
an icy patch and fall to the ground hurting his elbow as
he does so. Still laughing the kids get in the car and are
taken off to see grandpa, John is rubbing his elbow and
his bum as he gets ups gingerly.
The lads, we are so hard, appear from their homes to
noisily attack the day, Sunday is for shouting, but not
too loud, as they have headaches and hangovers, did they
really chat up that ugly fat girl, but they gave her his
brother’s mobile number and not his own. They stride off
to the news agent for The News Of The World, just for the
sports pages, their mums can read the scandal section and
the horoscopes.
One or two black people wearing their Sunday best pass by
on their way to church, a throwback to decades before
when people still went to church and when people still
wore their Sunday best. People used to dress up to go to
the theatre too, but now, but now.
I reach for the kettle and have my first coffee of the
day, coffee with milk and no sugar, the way English
people have coffee, not the American way, just the soft
English way. My kids want toast and peanut butter, or
cheese on toast, so my 3 slices of toast become one slice
of toast as I feed my girls. I nag them to put slippers
and socks on, yes we have nice carpet but in the winter’s
weather they are always getting colds, so I nag them, I
nag them. My wife nags them in Chinese too, or Shanghai
dialect. The phone rings, its Germany calling, or rather
my wife’s best friend who’s calling from Germany, the
cackle or hens, of chickens clucking is the noise these 2
Shanghai girls make, as they talk in Shanghai, when are
we coming back to Germany is the message. Cluck cluck
cluck.
The sky has changed the blue has changed to grey, will
the snow return, it’s been a snowy winter over here in
Birmingham, some parts of the country have had the worse
weather in 20years. The children have quietened down, my
wife has relented and put a nature program on the tv for
them. As for me I was going to try and write a poem but
instead you see what’s before you. I’m half listening to
Mike and The Mechanics a cd I’ve loaded to the computer,
“give me the simple life” he sings, I suppose my life is
a simple life too. But if we can see the poetry in life
then we enjoy the simple things which make up all are
lives. All our lives are poetry if only we take the time
to watch and listen, while we’re making toast for the
kids.
15. My Atheist Friend
I spent the afternoon with my friendly atheist he was
condemning God, he thought God existed but only as a bad
and evil thing. He assumed a lot about my faith, and was
wrong about it and me. Now should I bother to try and
convert him? Should I point him in the direction of his
local church where he could find himself a nice wife. Do
people go to church to finds wives, now that's another
question. Or should I let him carry on until he stumbled
over his own direction. I did explain how I stood by my
fridge and asked God to intervene in my life, my 3 wishes
so to speak, its in my essay Padre Pio and Me on my
site. And then as if by magic I met my Shanghai wife.
However atheists put themselves in a box, a cold steel
box and throw away the key, and they are not Houdini's
who can escape, they are like collapsed dead stars deep
in the cold of space.
Does family make us believe in God? Wishing for a family
was one of my 3 wishes. I got all my luck in one go is
what my Kerry cousins say. You ask for anything will do
and you get the best, better than all the rest as the
song goes.
THe autumn leaves fall and Life will soon die, winter
will come and cold will desend, but in the spring there
will be growth as Chance the gardener. How to plant a
seed where there is forever autumn as another song goes.
How do you plant a seed in an atheist's heart does he
have to suffer a dark night of the soul before like a
caterpillar he emerges as a beautiful butterfly? Its a
difficult question especially when I got my faith at the
nipple. Others of many faiths learnt their faith when
they were toddlers, the trendy I'll wait till they grow
up so they can decide for themselves always strikes me as
child neglect of the worst sort.
Christmas is a happy time full of innocence and hope,
perhaps I should drag my friend to Midnight Mass and let
him hear carols, silent night holy night. When we sing
and remember our family members who have gone ahead.
Should I make him look up at the stars overhead twinkling
to eternity, for there is always hope. Hope springs
Eternal.
16. Words are for what? ©
By Michael Casey
Words are for what? Conversation, a chat, gossip, juicy
gossip, a quiet word, a stern word, a protest, a scream,
a shout, a murmur, whispers, a buzz or just plain old
prattle.
Today the news is full of the Labour Party, much is being
said and not said, how will the future be, will they the
brothers bury the hatchet, do they wish to bury the
hatchet in one another’s head. Are they both lying about
everything? Or are they both champions of truth. One
thing is certain the Tories just love this result.
Political reporters just love it too, those politic al
reporters are prettier nowadays too, I remember when I
was a child it was just Robin Day in his dickybow
talking to other men about politics. I once saw Robin Day
in the street, he was a really fast walker. Now Robin Day
was great with words, he could and would call somebody a
%%%$$%^&& to their face but he used such elegant words,
it would be an honour to be dumped on by him. Robin Day’s
most famous quote was “Some here today gone tomorrow
politician.” He said that to Sir John Knott when the
Falklands War kicked off, John Knott walked off set. At
the time nobody knew where the Falklands were, were they
in extreme northern Scotland?
Words though do have so much strength. Hitler knew this,
and look what happened. Other evil leaders did the same
thing, pick your own despot.
Sometimes all it takes is a word and things can be
healed. Sorry is the hardest word to say as the song
goes. Kids play in the playground and harsh words are
said, kids are cruel is what any teacher will tell you.
“Take it back” is another catchphrase, then you have to
say the magic formula of words and all is healed. Or is
it? With kids in the playground, or between brother and
sister yes, hopefully. But with international relations?
Pick your own dispute.
Love songs have so much power, or certain words can
tickle us and make us smile, or make us angry. When I was
in Shanghai in 2000 meeting the family at one dinner a
13year old boy was proud to sing a song he knew in
English, Michael Row the boat ashore. He grew whiskers on
his chinagin the wind came out and blew them in again.
The Chinese boy was so proud. It was the same song that
my brothers and sisters used to sing to me to make me
cry. I think I laughed in 2000. In 2007 at another
dinner I met him again, he asked did I remember him, he
was now as big as myself. Of course I remembered him, how
could I forget that song and the association. I told the
Chinese lad to keep up with the English and do Law at
Uni. I was working at a law firm at the time.
A way a woman dresses has a lot of power over a man, it
leads to the power of love. The way a man dresses has
power over a woman, a fireman for example. The way a man
undresses has power over a woman too, the Chippendales
or The Full Monty…..
But back to words, if they are not matched by action then
they are like steam coming off a coffee on a train, just
evaporating into nothingness. A few simple words with
action attached is better than a hurricane for blowing
inaction away. My last uncle died recently and after the
funeral his son in law said “He didn’t say much but when
he did it was worth listening to.” He was a quiet man,
but he was loved so much, and his words were worth their
weight in gold.
17. Cobwebs of Love
Kids need good parents, friends we choose for ourselves,
your families you get anyway. I'm lucky I had great
parents. Faith does help, but kids get bigger and decide
for themselves if their parents were talking rubbish or
were worth listening too. Kids travel and find their own
way home to their faith and their families. Elastic is
very important in relationships and faith. If you try to
keep things set in stone then you will be in for a fall.
Nothing is set in stone, friendships change and alter and
our own understandings change and alter. Have a bit of
elastic in your life is my best advice. You are not in an
army and getting up at 5am and doing all the marching and
so forth. Yes have discipline and rules, but be aware IF
you force somebody to do something when they have the
chance to rebel then they will. You cannot chain anybody
to you or your faith, brainwashing is a bad idea, listen
to the Genesis song Jesus we know him.......So you bind
your family and friends and faith to you by cobwebs of
love and nothing stronger than cobwebs of love. Love
should be like that its a cobweb of love, also be happy
to have a Prodigal Son in your life, happy because you
will always welcome them back. If you're lucky you'll
never have any Prodigal sons in your life but I already
tell my kids I'll always love them and they can always
come home, leave your doors open with cobwebs of love
waiting there
18.The Bicycle Removal Firm ©
By
Michael Casey
Today's blog is
inspired by what I saw through the window. And what did I
see? Well you may have all seen The Quiet Man with John
Wayne and Maureen O'Hara. In it a spare bike is “carried”
by somebody already riding one. It no doubt takes great
skill.
It wasn't that I saw but something much more intriguing,
I say a man on a bike carrying a mirror under his arm.
Not the newspaper, but a real mirror, a 3.5foot one
under his right arm. He also had it mirror side out, so
no doubt several car drivers would have been dazzled.
Later on as I sat here at the computer I saw him again,
this time he had an ironing board under his arm, at least
the legs weren't sticking out. He just pedalled past. I
was wondering what would happened next. I was thinking it
was nearly time to collect the girls from school when he
came walking past carrying a heavy bundle on his
shoulder.
As we walked home I told my girls what I'd noticed, I
always try and teach them to be observant, such as seeing
the new trendy sign over the help the aged charity shop
today. And as we walked home why the policeman had got
out of the panda car near the bank, to go to the cash
point and then go to Subway for his sandwich.
I explained to my girls that the man on the bike must
be moving house, but he didn't have a car so he was DIY
moving with the aid of a bike. My mother once put on all
her clothes and then walked home to Cromane Kerry because
she had no suitcase so she wore everything. Her mum had
belted her for her stupidity, this would be in the 1930s.
I encouraged my daughter to use the bike man as a story
for her next English lesson, she said it was not her
style. Then as we closed the front door, who did we see?
The man on his bike with a mixing desk under his arm, my
daughter laughed, but her little sister had the last
laugh, she'd found the chocolate biscuits.
So what can I say, I hope that if ever we move house, if
ever I sell my 3 books then I hope we can at least have a
van to transport our things. Or perhaps I could self
upgrade from a bicycle removal service to a bus removal
service, I do have a bus pass after all.
www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
19. What is Prayer ? What is Love? ©
By
Michael Casey
What is Faith? We are told in one Bible passage that if a
man can do many things yet there is no Love then man has
achieved nothing. I remember this being read at grammar
school at the morning assembly. . Sorry if I cannot quote
it verbatim. I'd come home from work and my dad would be
sitting down in the living room his dinner on a chair so
he could watch the news, he'd have the first bite raised
to his mouth. I'm not hungry he'd say and offer me his
dinner. This is love. Another time, another shift
pattern. I'd come home at 11p. Dad would wait up to see
me before he'd go to bed, he'd be up at 5am for his work
the next morning. This is the standard I'm used to, I'll
do the same for my own children. Its normal, it’s
obvious. To me anyway. My mother used to watch Dallas on
tv after she'd fed all her children, one hand in her
apron as she watched tv. Only the hand always jumped in
her pocket, she was saying the rosary while she watched
tv. Very Irish, very motherly. Very normal, the standard I
got used to. Countless mothers the world over do the
same. They may be Christians, they may be of a multitude
of different Faiths, yet one thing in common. Love, love
of God, love of family, love of children . And do we
thank our parents for this love? If we didn't and now our
parents our gone, then do we live with regret all our
lives . No, this would be folly. We can thank our parents
and our God by being good parents, by trying to copy the
good example shown to us . I met my wife in the
retirement home where my dad lived after his near fatal
heart attack, which happened 8 bare weeks after my mother
died in her sleep. My dad lived long enough for me to
meet/marry and have a granddaughter. As I gaze on my
daughter's face I often say "thank you". Thank You to God
for allowing me a wife and for having a daughter. An
extremely beautiful daughter, healthy and funny. I have to
show the moon to my daughter because she thinks it’s so
pretty, she loves stars too , not yet 22months old and
she knows the wonder of creation . As I look upwards and
see the cold beauty of space I know how lucky I am. I
know how lucky I am. Lucky enough to cry, which I do on
occasions. My tears are my humble thanks and praise of
God. I have a family. July 96, mom was gone 2 months, and
dad was now given 1 week to live. So after 3years of
constant visits to the seniors home I met my wife, my
Shanghai China. So yes I cry in the dark of the night as
I look up at the stars . I am a lucky man, because I had
good parents, I know I did . I hope everybody could be as
lucky as me .....
well I hope this reads ok , I couldn't think of any
poetry , I just hope telling it plain catches the spirit
, the spirit of love . One word, one look, one sigh, one
flicker of the eyes, each of these is a prayer, a deep
prayer . A prayer of hope, pray, hope and don't worry is
a motto I try to live by that’s all the advice I can give
20. My New Computer Part 2
A new home computer is an event. You think how quick it
will be. You prepare by backing up your files, but you
have so many of them. Then you have email accounts and
favourite sites and so forth. You think you've thought of
everything but you haven't. BUT you do have a safety net,
you've emailed your important files to yourself, in fact
you have a couple of email accounts so your stuff can be
safe. Only you forget the passwords.
I'm sure we've all done it. Luckily the nice folks at
Google can help. But then there is GMX can they fix it
too?
Then you get 60 day trial of software from Norton which
features an online backup, so your files are safe on a
server in the USA.
So I had loaded our family photos to the new PC and then
deleted them from the memory stick thing.
So that was ok, only I then lost them from the new PC. So
I have to rely on Norton, only there's a glitch, I can
see my files on their Server but I cannot restore them
to my PC. It may just be I need to click somewhere I
cannot see. So I send an email to Norton, that’s a couple
of hours ago, but I'm sure those guys are just as nice
as Google.
Have I learnt my lesson. Yes, buy 2 memory sticks and
don't delete anything.
Footnote I first used a computer back in 1978, DEC PDP
1170s but then computers were as big as washing machines
and dealt in megabites and tape decks were as big as
wardrobes.
p.s. Windows7 is fab and the lads at Comet are very very
professional
21. How to Teach a Nine Year Old Long Division ©
By
Michael Casey
Well my daughter only has 2 more years in primary school,
year 5 is what they call it. So my Shanghai wife is
pushing her to learn maths, 11plus beckons next year.
I remember I was called the "Ready Reckoner" by the lady
in the butcher’s shop, Marsh and Baxters. The shop had a
variety of changes over the past 45 years but now it is
once more a butchers, a halal one. I was 8 or younger at
the time me and my mum would go to the butchers and buy
the meat for the 8 of us, sawdust was on the floor in
those days. The lady in the shop would write down all the
separate items on a piece of paper using her pencil. Then
she’d try to add them up, remember it was pounds
shillings and pence in those days. 12 pence to a
shilling, and 20 shilling to the pound, 240 pence in one
pound. If you did not know your 12 times tables then
you’d be lost. Mr Gallagher my old school teacher
threatened us for months with a times table test. He
sprung it on us and the result was 4 of the best, a pump
on my bum. The next time he tested us I was perfect. So
with a stinging bum as a reminder I was red hot as far at
times tables and sums were concerned. Hence I was the
ready reckoner
We always paid the right price for our meat, the tills
were huge monsters in those days with big symbols
appearing in a glass window, watch Ronnie Barker in Open
All Hours and you’ll see one.
Now how do you teach division to a 9 year old. Well my
wife starts in Shanghai dialect, then I interrupt in
English giving a metaphor or two, upside down stair is
how I explain. Then we jump on Utube and you get lessons
galore, 360 maths lessons is what I hear. Though its
American so is Math lessons, I was boasting as they
explained long division that I had shown our daughter the
correct way, but Utube had another set in the upside down
steps, by basically I was right. I then reassured our
daughter if she did 100 examples then she’d get it. If
you know how to multiply then you know how to divide.
More encouragement is given in Shanghai dialect. As for
our daughter she heads for her room and Galaxy on her DAB
radio, perhaps if she counts the stars in the Galaxy then
she’ll have her head for maths.
22. Mickey Mouse Degrees
Three of my family went to University, and it was called
University then not Uni. They worked very hard to get
there. Me I went to work and later discovered the OU,
after I discovered I could write.
I also spent 3years
at a 4star deluxe business hotel. So I’m thinking should
I set myself up as a tutor and teach “Car park cleaning
and security patrolling a combined course” or “Concierge
skills with smile techniques” or “Housekeeping with
combined Laundry services” “Reception skills with added
Switchboard techniques”. I was a close runner up as
Employee Of The Year so I could charge more. Perhaps I
could teach “Acceptance of Rejection, a multi discipline
course for Writers and Playwright and Poets”
I’d just love for somebody to take me under their wing
and give me a grant, I’ve written a comic novel The
Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, I’ve written a play
that will be a hit, Shoplife is its name and its very
topical, its about a store about to close. I’ve got
another book called Essays and Plays which is just that.
Finally Tears For A Butcher is my 3rd book which I'm
still writing. I did try and get a grant from the
Rockefeller Foundation but no joy, perhaps I’m too old or
too working class. Perhaps I should try Getty Foundation,
who knows, I do know my play Shoplife could be turned on
its head to teach Customer Service, all I need is a
Dragon, I did try that too but no luck.
Perhaps I should go on the X files and read a few poems
or speed read from my book, like the Reduced Shakespeare
Company. I did meet thousands of people while I worked at
a hotel and many were amused by my Tales. Tales from Old
Forge and Singing Anvil www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com is
where my stuff lives in cyber space. I am no Blacksmith
like my father but I always followed his maxim “Do what
you like, BUT do your best.”
23. My Mouse is drunk ©
By
Michael Casey
Well my mouse is drunk, I did see the warning signs and I
hoped and prayed that it would get back to the straight
and narrow, but it did not. The mouse is a drunkard and
that’s all there is to it, its not that I live in a
windmill with the sails producing electricity for our
home our windmill home. It would have been just fine if
the mouse wore clogs and did a bit of break dancing.
Living in a windmill would be fun too.
I am of course talking about a computer mouse, not any
Nick Park creation. Our computer was waving goodbye as
you can see by my previous post, but now the mouse was
joining the strike in sympathy, all for one and one for
all.
Can you remember the last time you were on a double
decker bus up stairs and drunk?I can remember being on
the Metro in Paris Feb 1998 drunk and very happy, but
that’s another story. So picture that in your mind and
that’s just how my mouse is behaving. Scrolling and
jumping and highlighting galore, could be like a scene
from an old film, Easy Rider perhaps, and yes I remember
seeing that at the cinema, 2pound a week pocket money so
I could go to the cinema at the Grove. You think you can
master a silly little mouse but you cannot, it’s like a
jockey verses a giant, the jockey is wiry and nimble so
its very hard to catch him and lay a punch on him.
Exactly how it is between me and my mouse. I was trying
to do a few things before the new needed replacement
computer arrived, but it was a battle of wills and the
mouse, the computer mouse was winning. I need to renew
my house insurance so I thought I could do this online. I
had rung up my existing insurance company and they
immediately offered a 40% discount! But it was still
cheaper to change so I had been looking online, but with
the mouse playing up it was like being in an Irish Pub on
Saint Patrick’s day, one giant jelly mass of people, me
and the mouse were just like that. Finally I had to give
up I was getting seasick. 4 of us use this computer and
the mouse has been battered for years, so now it was time
to put it out of its misery, the only decision was
whether to bury the mouse in an old shoe box or just cut
off its tale and give it to the with. kids to play
24. We are having a baby ©
By
Michael Casey
We are having a baby, after much though and heartache we
have decided to have a baby, it will be our 3rd. Now in
Google search that’ll be condensed so everybody will be
mislead until they click and read the full version. Yes
we are having a baby, and yes it will be our 3rd, but not
a baby baby, which would indeed be our 3rd. No we are not
trying for a boy after having two girls, we are just
having a 3rd baby, I mentioned it to my eldest daughter
on my way back with a coffee in my hand, she said it
wouldn’t be a 3rd baby, it would be a 4th baby, or even a
5th baby. You see we had a new Tv after ours gave up the
ghost after 16 years, so the new Toshiba was a baby, and
our new noisy whistling kettle was a baby too. What I’m
really saying is that our computer has reached the age
when it should be replaced. The baby I’m on about is a
new Emachine computer, a baby computer because it should
be so much smaller than the original one from over 7
years ago. Best of all it was on offer, 200 off. If it
wasn’t on offer it would have stayed in the shop, but we
really need our computer so thankfully a cheap one has
popped up to save the day.
As for our current Emachine that’ll find a new home with
somebody who had our last old baby, a tradition is
forming, he has our old cache which saves him cash. Its
nice if you can recycle things, and I’m sure our friend
will spruce it up to make it better than we had it. I
know somebody who has a computer who has never done a
disc cleanup, but that’s another story. As for us I now
have to backup our old files, can you imagine how many
1000 photos you take when you have a young children; you
have to send them to grandma in Shanghai and friends in
Toyko and Taiwan and Singapore, and the most exotic
Stourbridge and Reading and Frankfurt. You do have some
on the family website but now as change is in the air you
must backup everything, you cannot lose your children’s
childhood snaps.
Yesterday I looked at USB sticks they can be pretty
expensive, finally I worked out how much stuff we just
had to backup and move. Play.com turned out to have the
best offer for 16gig flash security. Lets hope it’s a
simple as I think it is to back things up, I have 14gig
of stuff to backup. As you can imagine I have to keep my
other babies safe, my stories my writing, which are
dreams in themselves. I had them on floppy discs
scattered all around my house. I do have my site
www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com so my “masterpieces” will
survive fire and floor and even nuclear war as the are on
a server on a different continent. However I still need
them on my new baby computer my new Emachine, so my 16gig
flash storage will have a mission. There is one thing to
remember though I remember somebody saying if you don’t
dismount/unload you media properly then you lose what’s
on the flash media. Well I’ll find out about that soon
enough, Wednesday will be my security day.
Then once everything is safely loaded I can breath a sigh
of relief. But what else do you have to do once you have
your new baby, your new computer. Get connected to the
Internet, without being swamped by viruses because you
forgot to get an anti virus program. Set up accounts on
the computer, I have my side and my wife has her side.
With a Shanghai wife though I get stray Chinese
characters appearing on our current computer, and strange
things have happened. So I need to keep a clear head
while I get things as I want them to be, however give it
a fortnight and China will have invaded my side of the
computer and stolen all the duvet. I still dream of
having my books in Waterstones and sold as Ebooks for all
these new devices, but most of all I want a computer just
for me!
25.Where do the tears go when they are shed©
By
Michael Casey
Where do the tears go when they are shed While I lie here
crying on my bed Do the tears drip drip away and seep
thoughThe floorboards and head for the sea. Do my tears
join an ocean that rises and falls Do the tears yell and
scream but only sea farers Hear them, do whales moan as
they crash through them Only whales know of my distress as
my tears groan In deep deep oceans in the unknown dark
deep seas.
Do my tears head north to the North Pole and Santa Does
Santa Ho Ho Ho so much because he is trying to drown
Out The cries and sobs and tears held back for so many
years. Do tears form ice shelves and become icebergs,
silent and majestic Like giant cathedrals of ice. Is this
the way to silent the voice of tears. Frozen in Time for
100s of years, the fears of today and yesterday are
Merged As one, gagged for eternity in an ice
cathedral. Will everything be forgot, deep freezed, quick
frozen like garden peas.
Do my tears evaporate and head for the sky, joining the
clouds as they pass by. Are my tears blown this way and
that, are they taken far away over the ocean. As planes
pass through the clouds that are my tears, can the
passengers hear Can the passengers hear my tears, all my
hopes and fears, or are my tears Drowned out by the in
flight movie, 007 killing my prayers to heaven.
Do my tears wash away my pain, my guilt, are they like
mothers’ milk? For tears touch us all, they are like a
morning mist that shrouds us. For tears are the dark dark
night of the soul, a cold coat that covers us. In the
morning we remember we fell asleep crying, but what of
now? Now we’ve looked at our dead mum’s photo and think of
what she would have said. We smile as we remember, her
fight, her love, her spirit, her smile. But never tears,
she shed no tears for us, she shed no tears for us. Tears
will come, tears will come again, but they are just
water, we are stronger Than mere water, we have a boat and
that boat is Love.
****Well I dug this out from my PC I wrote it a year
ago...Michael
26. From A to B or From Sat Nav to Blocked Sink
By Michael Casey
Well I hope you are all fine this morning. For us the Sat
Nav debate continues.
In the old days a Black Taxi would not be seen using an
AtoZ, it was beneath his dignity. He'd done the Knowledge
and it was all up there in his head. Jack Rozenthal wrote
a great play about it, was it 30years ago? Maureen Lipman
was his real wife.
Delivery drivers have and egg and bacon butty in one hand
dripping egg on to the AtoZ in their other hand while
they try and deliver a chest of drawers, with 5 days
growth of beard for good measure.
Bus drivers know their route, so once they've done it a
while its automatic, they know what they are doing. All
they have to do is put up with kids trying to use a 3 day
old ticket, and not get too high from all the cannabis on
the bus. Or remember when they have switched routes
because that can lead to strange directions.
Door to door salesmen all those years ago, with the rap
at tat tat on the back door had their route carrying the
suitcase with samples in. I can vaguely remember one at
our back door did my mum buy a clothes brush? But that
must be 45 years ago.
So basically we all know what we want and where we are
going. Going further back they say people only knew a
six block radius around their home. Going to War changed
all that as did radio and then more importantly tv. Tv
being our eyes on the world, previous to that only
Merchant Seaman knew of the world. My own granddad was a
merchant seaman, I sometimes wonder did he ever get to
Shanghai
Or was it me, his grandson who got there first. Had he
visited at the turn of the 19th/20th Century 100years and
more ago.
Which brings us back to Sat Nav. Me I use a bus which is
fine apart from the pot heads who sit next to you on the
bus and all I want to do is puke. My wife is a car
driver, so she and our girls love the car. But my wife
has borrowed a Sat Nav and likes the ease of it so now
she wants one of her own. The result is that I’m being
nagged to provide one. You pay, me pay, yes you pay, why
me pay, because you are the husband so you pay, no way me
pay, you pay you pay yourself, I say. And on the ding
dong, sing song goes. Which is the fun part. Me I no pay,
use computer I say. You can get perfect directions off
the computer all you then have to do is print them off,
if our printer was still working we’d be doing that. So
really all the wife has to do is copy them down, in
English.
She’s busy with the wok as I talk to you, she’s
compromised now, she only wants me to pay half. So I say
I’ll be doubly generous and double the share I won’t pay,
I’ll pay zero and she can pay 100%. That’s the true
spirit of negotiation, now I have another thing to
resolve, she’s blocked the sink, so pardon me now as I
take the plunge, or rather take the plunger to the sink,
no need to use a Sat Nav to get there, its over my
shoulder in the next room, just turn left at the tv and
go straight on to the sound of bubbles. Love is
everywhere don’t you know it, just find it, no Sat Nav
required.
27.Read My Mind ©
By
Michael Casey
I just read in the Sunday paper that soon they’ll be able
to read my mind, everybody’s mind. A computer firm is
scanning brains so that in future you can control your
computer with just a thought.
“Where do you do to my lovely when you’re alone and in
your bed, tell me the thoughts that surround you” as
Peter Sarstead sung in the old and very good song.*
Now the song was a great song, perhaps they’ll play it on
Magic again soon.
But our thoughts are private like the sunglasses of our
mind. They ring fence our brain and keep strangers out,
they hide our boredom when at Company events, the same
speech and the same director laughing at his own jokes
while as one we all think “what a plonker”. A whole hall
wishing he’d stop so we could get on with the
entertainment, free bar and circus.
Politicians lie, we all think they do, and if we could
read their minds we’d all throw cabbages at them, or eggs
or just manifestos. We heard what Gordon really though of
that lady and it helped lose the Election for him. Then
the apology shambles, you can’t take back something like
that. If somebody could read Gordon’s mind they would
have dived in to save him before he even said it.
Politicians need to be clear but they never are. Why have
clarity when you can have deniability. Let’s just wish
Gordon a good relaxing next 5 years.
But what of you and what of me. You see a girl, you see a
boy, you’ve got your shades on, you take a good hard
look, the object of your attention cannot see your eyes,
you try and look cool and not move your head an inch. But
you lust after him, you lust after her. Choose your own
words as to what you are thinking, or are you lusting.
Well they’ll never know because they cannot read your
mind. But if they could, they’d be a few slapped faces
that’s for sure. Or they’d be a few sudden snogs in
doorways and in bus shelters or on the top decks of
buses. And all because we can read each other’s minds.
Perhaps in the future the gismo to read minds would be
attached to your shades, so you’d look cool while they
drool.
What about your mum if she could read your mind? She’d be
sending you to bed without supper, she’d scream and shout
“get out of my house.”
What about old gran and granddad, they’d know what you
really think of them. Do you love them or are you just
playing along to get their money when they die.
Reading Minds is a dangerous thing, we need protection
from ourselves, a stray spoken word can hurt, but
luckily our words are locked up in our minds and they can
be chosen and picked and used with caution. But if they
were there all naked in front of us, no nuances, no
clarification then we’d all be in big trouble. I believe
we think
4 times faster than we speak, but speech is our filter
so that we DO pick the right words, we don’t say the
wrong thing. Reading Minds can be dangerous, yes it would
be great if you could walk down the road and have all the
girls dreaming of you, but what if you were walking down
the road and you could heard everybody’s inner voice
saying I hate you. What You Don’t Know Cann’t Hurt You,
so as far as I’m concerned I’ll Fortune Telling to
Gypsies.
*Peter Sarstead copyright
28.My Daddy’s like Google he knows everything ©
By Michael Casey
My kids were in London today for a day out with my wife
and one of her friends. Me I stayed home I’d picked up
some bug last night , so I nursed my bug.
The girls were all excited when they came home and my
smallest one was telling a story. It began with a box
fell from the sky, but it was no ordinary box, it was a
magic box. So I told her to keep the idea in her head
and she could write it out in the morning, it was late
now. Her bigger sister observed that when she wrote she
wrote all posh, but when she talked she did not. I then
tried to explain the difference between :- speaking,
writing, presenting, teaching. Some people may be able to
do one but this does not prove/equate to being able to do
another. Then my smallest let loose with the line that I
was Google and should be a teacher and that I should
write kids books. I’ll do anything IF somebody sponsors
me, or becomes my patron, though in my case it would be
Saint Rita or Saint Jude themselves who’d help. Thinking
back to 1969 I did win a Junior Free Handwriting
Competition, I have the certificate somewhere, Brook Bond
sponsored it, I’d forgotten about it till just now.
Daddy, any daddy has to try and be an encyclopaedia to
give his kids some information, in some SciFi film or it
may have been in Dr Who I saw a battered Robot became the
teacher, with holograms too. If only I could be some sort
of magician, then that would be swell as the Americans
say, card tricks with lessons on, sleight of hand passing
messages of learning. I am award that I have to try hard
and give good information out, otherwise 1984 becomes a
reality, rubbish becomes fact, and facts become rubbish.
There are more questions than answers, luckily I’m very
eclectic so I can give a base camp answer, then watch as
their minds click and you can see from their expression,
from the look in their eyes that they understand and they
can begin to work things out for themselves or just have
a look online. The main thing though is that Daddy, this
daddy, me, encourages his girls to use their brains.
The cobwebs may grow IF I didn’t have children asking
this and asking that. In a couple of years time my
biggest daughter can read my book, it’s a 12 certificate
so although she’s seen it she’ll just have to wait for
the dubious honour of reading daddy’s The Butcher The
Baker and The Undertaker.
29. Its Just got to be Winnie The Pooh
Its Just Got to be Winnie The Pooh. My youngest daughter
just loves Winnie The Pooh, my wife thinks it’s because I
look like Winnie The Pooh, judge for yourselves.
We have a collection of soft toys tidied away behind the
settee, about 40 I think. Every now and then my small
daughter lines them up in rows and she's the teacher.
Winnie The Pooh is always 1st in the queue. Then she
takes the register and tells the toys to pay attention.
Then she reads to them, everything is done in an orderly
way. I think she'll end up a scientist as she's so
organised, my wife did Science back in Shanghai, so its
in the genes. Her Chinese grandfather did a bit of
writing too, as did her Chinese great uncle, and then
there is me www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com , so writing
is in the blood too. Does anybody remember Abbott the
Physics text book? That just sprung to mind, we were told
to read it cover to cover, my brother actually did do
that.
So back to Winnie The Pooh, I'm being told that she wants
a Winnie The Pooh lunchbox, she just saw it in the Netto
leaflet that came through our door. Then another leaflet
had a Winnie The Pooh duvet and duvet cover. I did buy
her a Winnie The Pooh blow up cushion but that delevoped
a slow leak, so I stuffed Winnie the Pooh with a few old
pillows, and she was able to continue sitting on it. We
have Winnie The Pooh dvds and some old VHS tapes too, and
a few days ago we bought her a Winnie The Pooh cutlery
set along with a face cloth. So thats just the tip of a
big iceberg, she has a white Tigger thats not really
Tigger but he does look like a very very pale snow
Tigger. When she grows up we will tease her about this.
But I know one day a chubby cuddly man will ask my
permission to marry her, perhaps his name will be
Christopher Robin.
30. The Best Years Of Our Lives ©
By Michael Casey
They say that the best years of our lives are our
schooldays. Maybe its true, but we are all too busy doing
the homework, or suffering Latin homework. I can vouch
for Latin in Grammar school, it’s a form of torture, but
it does help your vocabulary, and it does make you
perservere.
I suppose Uni is the best days of your lives too, until
you get the bill. And realise that nobody rates a degree
any more because everybody has one so the currency is
devalued. 3 years experience doing something while you
did you degree in film studies. So the experienced one
gets the job.
Getting married and setting up home, are they the best
years of our lives? Then the first baby and the lack of
sleep, learning to catch and throw dirty nappies out the
house, just like a wicket keeper.
Finally getting your book published. Getting a few plays
on the stage, having a column in The Sun and The
Telegraph, would these be the best days of our lives.
www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
Or is it the old days, when your life is in part 2, when
the grave can be seen in the distance, it may be 50years
away but you’ve have the 1st 50 years so you are on the
slide to the grave. With experience and love your view of
life has changed, you have a young family, but you know
how to love them. You can feel it in the air, you can see
it in the garden, you can hear the children’s laughter,
you can enjoy a glass or two, but you are at Peace,
that’s when you have reached The Best Days Of Your Life.
31. Let My Tears Be My Words (c)
by Michael Casey
Let There Be Light ©
By Michael Casey
Let my tears be my words
Let the candle light be my eyes
Let the flowers in bloom be my lips
Let their scent be my blood
Let the wind be my breath
Let clouds be my mood
Let children’s laughter be my hope
Let widows’ sighs be my conscience
Let a stranger’s prayers be my delight
Let the bees be my wisdom
Let the trees be my strength
Let my patience reach to the stars
Let me be always remembered in your prayers
End
p.s.
**** I hope you enjoy my poetry, there's more at
www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
Poems are like butterflies there appear from nowhere and
flutter by, we are amazed by their beauty then they are
gone. This one came to me about 2 years ago when I was
hiding in St Phillips cathedral during my lunch break. I
got the 1st couple of lines. Once home I sat in my old
big blue chair in front of the computer and then worked
out the rest. You can see a photo on my site. I have now
updated the old chair, all I need is a new computer.
32. The Lambs have gone its Silent ©
By Michael Casey
The Lambs have gone its Silent, my girls are in London
today, my wife took them there. So I'm home alone, and
its so silent.
"Dad, what does xyz mean" asks my big daughter, but she's
not here,
I explain and tell her to use one of the dictionaries we
have. I want her to be able to find out answers herself.
When you explain things you find that you try and be so
exact so that you don't confuse your kids. It probably
makes me think more clearly too.
This morning my smallest girl put a Tamagatu purple cat
on the desk, she said it would keep me company while they
were away. Its still on the desk besides me as I talk to
you. My old copy of Don Camillo's Dilemma is there too,
I've read 50pages just 200 more to go, then its Don
Camillo meets the Hells Angels, then I'm done, 6 books
all about a Catholic priest and a Communist Lord Mayor.
The stories were 1st written over 50 years ago, I know no
Italian so I read them in English translation. I was
actually going to learn Italian several years ago, only I
got distracted by this Shanghai girl, I married her, you
can see some photos of us all on this site, we were at a
wedding a few days ago. I'm the George Clooney look alike
in the photos, though my hair looks as though I've washed
it in DAZ. Our 2 girls are there too, along with the
wife, not forgetting the Bride and Groom. As for Italian,
I put the books in an old holdall and put that under my
bed, years later my nephew was learning Italian, so I
donated everything to him.
You could hear a pin drop in the house, its so silent,
and yes I hate it. All I have is the pain from tearing
down the fence, its sharp and makes me wince a bit, but
aren't we all stupid sometimes, or is it just me who's
cornered the market. I look to my right and can hear the
clock ticking, its a battery powered but still I can hear
it. No small girls running about in the room above me. No
Blick DAB radio blaring out Galaxy on their radio above.
The clock in the living room strikes nine, my girls
should be getting on the train home now. London Euston to
Birmingham, 28pounds for the 3 of them with Virgin
trains, see the offers for yourself. I can hear the
boiler click into action, heating the water for baths on
their return. The computer hums in front of me, just by
my knee. I hope I win the HP Envy 17 laptop in this weeks
Sun's competitions, our computer is 7 years old and
freezes a lot. The irony is I joined the MySUN site so I
could enter the competitions, and then I stumbled into
putting my blogs here on MySun. The sound of the keyboard
echoes around our empty house.
I jump in my seat, the telephone has just exploded, my
wife has just rung to say they missed the train. Only she
was teasing, I can hear our kids in the background on the
train. So all is well, but too too quiet. I know one
thing I could never live alone. Tomorrow the kids will
want Tux Paint on the computer, or want to use the
Graphic Tablet on the computer. There will be noise
galore, a family noise, the noise I prayed for all those
years ago.
Cheerio from Birmingham and London Euston
www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
33. Take my Fence Away ©
By
Michael Casey
Well just for something different today I took my fence
away. The day had started noisily when a courier nearly
knocked my door down, and it wasn’t even my parcel. So
wishing him well I closed my door. Half an hour later a
polite knocker knocked at my door. “Sorry for disturbing
you” he began “yes you are disturbing me” I finished as I
closed the door. I don’t know about you but I just wish
cold callers didn’t bother. Or they all got a disease and
took the Junk Email writers with them, a kind of modern
plague, where the skeletons decayed over computers. But
perhaps I’m being too mean today.
As for my fence, we have a rickety old one on one side
next to the entry, its parallel supports with boards
nailed alternately on the inside and on the outside.
However with age it’s developed a stoop, or backward
lunge, a kind of limbo dancing look.The alley is kind of
blocked because of this, but nobody uses it but me,
however I decided it was getting dangerous, so the fence
had to go. Just in case. So I leant on the fence and it
creaked and groaned, not unless that was my back. 3
sections gave way, the supporting posts had had it for
years. Then all I had to do was saw the last bit away.
Only I don’t have a saw, but I do have a metal saw ,or
rather just the blade which was part of the tools I
inherited 30 years ago. They gather dust mainly as I am
not a DIY kind of person. I can work out what needs to be
done, but as for doing it, I leave that to the experts. I
once tried painting a wall, only it took gallons of
paint, the wall was covered in a wallpaper that was just
like carpet, so it just soaked up the paint, a bit like
painting a bear I suppose, not that I’ve ever tried
painting a bear.
But back to the fence, finally I’d sawn away the last
support and I had a kind of wooden ladder in my entry.
All I had to do was heave it to the rubbish area at the
bottom of my garden. I had to jump up and down to break
it up, I had to be very careful too as there were 6 inch
nails all over it. Rusty nails but still dangerous, apart
from the one I nearly stabbed my chest with, everybody
must have done similar such things. Did I ever tell you
when I painted my bathroom. It’s on my site
somewhere www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
Michael’s Bathroom.
But back to the fence, I was triumphant when I
was finished, then the washing line broke, my bright
orange Polo top with a polo scene on it went sailing to
the ground along with my jeans. Another task for me.
Over the road in the hardware store I got a plastic
washing line, £4.50 I was robbed. I also bought some green
twine, £1.60, I had an idea you see. Once home I got my
biggest daughter to hold the end while I tied it to the
tree and then to the peg in the wall. I didn’t realise
just how long 20m is, so I was able to have 2 new plastic
washing lines. This is good in the long run as I live
with 3 girls, if only I had another bathroom, but I need
a lottery win before that happens, or Rupert Murdoch sees
this and gives me a job. Hold on a second while I watch a
pig fly past.
So now I had a new washing line, all I needed was a new
fence. That’s where the twine comes in. I called my girls
outside, together we ran up and down the yard tying the
twine to what was left of the supporting posts. A kind of
net, a bit like the net at Wimbledon was formed. Straight
lines then vertical lines in between, plus some coloured
paper to make it more attractive. My big daughter has
done crochet at school so she was well pleased with her
efforts. My wife said it looked like prison bars but she
just has no imagination said me and the girls. We hope
small birds will rest on the top line and sing to us. It
was a fun hour or so, apart from the twinge in my back,
the fence was heavy after all. I forgot one thing, I
wanted to teach the girls about Gravity, so I shook the
Apple Tree at the bottom of the garden and they watched
the apples fall, Newton remembered. Then they gathered a
few apples and pretended to cook them, the apples were
bobbing in a container, Archimedes came to mind so I
mentioned him to them. All in all an educational Summers
Day.
34. So hypnotize me©
By Michael Casey
So hypnotize me
I was just picking up the kids from the school on the
hill, I overheard a mum saying that her son was thinking
of doing Hypnotism as a subject for part of his
University course. It made me think about what kind of
world we’d be if we could use hypnotism to iron out the
rough spots. If we could use it to make us all shiny and
new all the time. It made me think of Sci fi films, from
Logan’s Run to Matrix, the perfect world.
So what if it was just weight loss, or fear of animals
that was hypnotized away. You used to be able to listen
to a tape while you slept and then hey presto in the
morning you could speak Chinese. That’d be good in our
house as my wife is a Shanghai girl and our girls speak
Chinese with her while I’m trying to write here at the
computer.
Learning piano via hypnotism would be good too, my small
daughter is now trying out the guitar after playing on
the piano for 30mins. We saved up for years to buy the
piano and then my brother gave us a child size guitar
which he’d picked up cheap in The Works. My girl is
making up a song now behind me as I talk to you, its hard
trying to type when you’re trying not to laugh, try it
for yourself.
Now hypnotists use a watch to hypnotize, so that’d
interest me straight away, just the watch. I have a
Russian KGB officer automatic at present, if you’re read
The Watch and Me you’ll know about me and watches. When I
have some money I hope to buy an Oris watch, but it will
have to be a strong one. So there I am being hypnotized
to learn after dinner speaking, I’d really love to get on
that circuit, however I don’t know any Freemasons. I’m
being hypnotized when I realize the hypnotist has a
lovely Omega, so what happens. My love of watches
overrules the hypnotist, I escape with his Omega and the
hypnotist is found staring at the clock at New Street
Station, he’s mumbling just look into my eyes, look into
my eyes. I’m sent back to the hypnotist, he’s very
famous, he has a Cartier Bleu watch, he just gives it to
me, everything becomes a blur.In the morning I wake up in
bed speaking Chinese and giving an after dinner speech,
on one wrist is an Omega, on the other is a Cartier Bleu.
As for the hypnotist he’s found on the no8 bus going
around and around Birmingham, on his wrist is my Russian
KGB officer watch, and guess what, he’s speaking Russian.
Das Vidanya Everybody, Michael
www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
35. Pizza and Rice©
Pizza and Rice
I wouldn’t say I have a love affair with frozen food, say
pizza, nor that I like my bacon sandwiches so much. Its
just that I used to work such odd hours. Getting home at
9pm doesn’t encourage you to get Delia’s book out and be
creative. You just want something quick, as its 6 hours
or so since your late lunch at 3pm. It may even be nearly
10pm when you get home, after doing a work favour for
somebody. So now your stomach does think that your throat
has been cut, it rumbles away as you sit on the bus,
other passengers think its the deep base of somebody’s
personal stereo. Once home its flick Sky on grab dinner
from the freezer, in 10 minutes time the dinnertime Pizza
is ready, washed down by two mugs of milky coffee. If
Delia has got 1/2 a page left to fill she could just
squeeze it into one of her books.
Time moves on and I’m married and we have two little
girls. Rice is on the menu daily, you need a degree in
Oriental Languages to know what’s in the fridge. I have a
Shanghai wife who really can cook. Chopsticks make an
appearance, as does the spoon shovelling techniques for
eating. I can come home to find movement in the kitchen
sink, its alive and will soon be dinner, its a crab. Fish
is being cooked too, the rice cooker is on, you would not
believe just how fluffy and nice rice can be. Before
Shanghai, I’d have scoffed at the idea of rice being so
different, Ambrosia creamed rice from a tin was the
height of my experience, now I scoff nice rice. My wife
goes to the Korean shop to buy the rice as it tastes so
good. We are lucky we have a huge Ying Yip down the road
a few miles too. Once dinner is ready there are 3 or 5
dishes on the table, Phoenix is of the TV too. I think my
wife only came around to my house in the first place all
those years ago because I had Chinese tv, either that or
she really loved my frozen pizza. Occasionally there are
prawn crackers on offer, you really have to be quick to
make these or you’ll burn them and yourself.
My dad used to have a bowl of corn flakes as a snack
before bedtime if he was peckish, I do the same. Cereals
tend to be my breakfast too as they are so quick and easy
to make, well they make themselves. My wife likes snacks
too, but they can seem tasteless to a Western tongue.
However biscuits and cakes from Sainsbury’s are a delight
for her, if I search hard enough I can find them, our
girls love them too. You have to understand if you follow
the Eastern diet then you are very slim, both of my girls
are slim and tall, so to fall of the Eastern diet is a
treat. Going to the chip shop for them is a bit of a
wonder, they get “takeaway” every day at home, so chips
is a treat. As for me my diet has improved as I have the
left overs, though I still weigh 3 times more than my
size 0 wife. As for me and Delia, we do have one thing in
common, and I don’t mean our love of food, Delia and Me
are catholics.
36. Family Traits
I was thinking about what to talk about today, as I need
to practice my writing skills, Eric Clapton once said in
an interview that if you don't practice you could lose
your gifts, so practice. So this is what I'm thinking
about today.
Our kids, all of our kids inherit things from their
parents. Beauty or lack of it, freckles and red hair or
not. Being a bonnie baby or not, being quiet or not. Our
first daughter was very quiet and did not wake us up in
the night. However the 2nd one was the opposite, if she
was the 1st one then maybe we wouldn't have bothered with
a 2nd. Ask your own friends for their experiences. Our
1st one was born in the early hours, I got home at 3am
and had to explain to my Shanghai mother in law that it
was a daughter. A week previously I had been to my
brother's house where we loaded up an estate car, Steve
from Steve's takeaway had helped. My brother had saved
everything from his kids and now he passed it on to
me.Then once home me and the mother in law had
constructed the cot, without any common language between
us, it took 1.5hours. Today it would take 1/2 that time
as the mother in law understands a lot more English and
I'm much better at contructing flat packs.
Our 1st girl was born almost on Padre Pio's own
Birthday, he being the Saint who'd started the ball
rolling so to speak. Our daughter was big, like me I
suppose. But she has perfect Chinese hair, the kind of
hair girls would kill for. Look at the photos here and
judge for yourself. Apart from that I suppose she looks
very Western.
The thing you learn very fast when you have a baby is how
to change nappies and get them and their smell out the
house. You save all the plastic bags from shopping, and
its a bit like wicket keeping, a catch and a throw and
out the door. Ask any cricketers if nappy changing is as
I've explained. I'm sure they'll agree.
As children grow then traits appear. Our 2nd child is
very funny. Before she was born she was in Shanghai and
her granddad was making my wife laugh. A child in the
womb can hear, so our daughter would have heard all the
laughter, as did her born sister. I think my wife was 8
months pregnant when she returned home. I can remember
waiting at Heathrow after they'd had 2 months in
Shanghai. My daughter was sitting on the luggage trolley
being pushed by grandma, behind was my very pregnant
wife. I was crying with happiness. And as the cot was
already ready, no 1.5hours of Lego like building.
Drawing is a delight for both my girls. My wife can do
all fancy stuff, Calligraphy and Chinese letters etc. She
even used to go drawing of some sort for the Police in
Shanghai. One of my brothers is good too. So drawing is
in both sides of the gene pool.
As kids grow the family features show. My big daughter
looks like me when I was her age, its like Dr Who in a
way, she is my past and I am her future, its a bit spooky
as the resemblance is so very strong. My other daughter
apparently looks exactly like my wife when she was young
though she is Western looking. So Nature has given each
of us, a clone so to speak. Our youngest also has the
fantasic hair too. You'd have to do some market research
amongst your friends to see if all of them rate hair as
the best thing to have. So long as neither of them go
white early like me.
37. Dress Sense
Do men have any dress sense? Walk down your local street
and see what you can see. Me I've not worn a shirt for a
year. I prefer rugby shirts, even though its decades
since I was dangerous on a rugby field. Rugby shirts can
be pulled on and pulled off and thrown in the washing
machine. I have a bright orange one with a polo scene on
it, in fact I have 3 exactly the same. I bought then in
Sawgrass Mills Florida which is the biggest shopping mall
in Florida. There was a sale on when I was there so I
ended up buying 3. At my size you take your bargains when
they come. As for shoes, are black shoes only for the
office and interviews. Personally I like comfy shoes,
brown ones too. I always buy 2 pairs together in the 1/2
price sale. I suppose I could be related to Ken Clarke
such is my choice of shoes. When I used to wear shirt and
ties I always wore bright colours, reds or yellows, that’s
the ties not the shirts. Boring white or blue shirts were
my choice. Never buy a non iron shirt because they always
DO need ironing and they are impossible to iron and end
up looking like a dried out prune. And don't forget to
comb your hair and brush and dandruff off. The worse
thing in the world is dandruff on your shoulders. Moving
on, trousers should always be comfortable, if you bend
down to tie your shoelaces and you hear a ripping noise
that means the trousers were too tight. Only John
Travalta can look cool in tight trousers. So be honest
with yourself, if you look like Shrek in a suit then
CHANGE. Though I have to confess I've been told I'm a bit
of a Shrek, even though I thought my 18.5 inch neck with
a bright red tie hanging from it made me look important.
Ah well what can a man do? Well ask your wife could be a
good idea, but run for the hills if she says she'll come
shopping with you. You know it'll mean you'll end up with
2 new pink shirts, while she buy 20 items she really
really needs.
Happy Shopping everybody.
38. Home ©
by
Michael Casey
Home is where the heart is. Homeless is outside a house
looking in wishing it were your home .Put into a Home is
where due to circumstances a loved one has to be put into
care.
As I talk to you this morning I have a drawing on the
desk propped up by the computer speakers .It’s a drawing
of a girl with all her hair to one side, she has long
eyelashes and is carrying a small bag. Besides the biro
drawing of the girl is a big heart and some stars,
written above is “For Daddy.” I have a notepad on the desk
in front of the computer monitor so my girls love leaving
drawings. On the side of the fridge is this weeks spelling
list, held there by magnets that aunty gave us. On top of
the fridge is a fruit bowl full of fruit and sweets. By
the fruit bowl is container full of pens and crayons, a
shopping list in Mandarin beside it. There are photos of
family scattered about the house, in one corner photos of
my mum and dad both long gone, but still much loved. When
you get to Heaven you’ll see them is what I say to my
girls.We found a stilly photo of me so I put it on the
shelf next to the huge red Chinese dictionary, the fairy
from the Christmas tree is also on that shelf waiting
ever patiently for Christmas to return. Behind me is a
painting of an angel a Bourne Jones copy, blowing a flute
thing. Girls shoes are scattered about the house, waiting
to trip me up. Behind the sofa in this room are two huge
bags of soft toys, waiting to escape .Once my smallest is
back home she’ll release the soft toys from their
Jail. Then she’ll line them up in rows and sitting on the
teddy bear wooden stool she’ll be teacher. All the toys
have names and she’ll chide them as together they learn
this week’s spellings. Her big sister has her nose in a
book, she’s determined to win a prize from the local
library for reading the most books. I told her I read
everything in the school library when I was young. The
sound of chickens comes from the living room LULU, not
that lulu, but a chat show queen on Phoenix can be heard.
Then my wife is on the phone while she shakes her big
wok. I look outside and am pleased to see my sea of
shamrock, I transplanted it here many years ago, it
nearly died during the harsh Winter we just had but now I
have enough for all of Riverdance. I’ll stop there for
now. But you can see what I’m on about. A home is a
combination of all the things I’ve just talked about. A
home is a physical place, but it is much more than that.
It’s the little things inside the house that turn it into
a home. Such as the Looney Chick toy that I’m using as a
cushion, my girls brought it back all the way from
Shanghai last year, and now we use it as a cushion. The
drawings on the desk in front of me are done with love by
my girls. Sharing a pack of Rolos, even though you love
them so much, this is home, this is family. In the end,
where there is love then there is a home. Without the
love even if your home was better than a 5 star hotel,
then it really wouldn’t be a home, it would be just a
location. For as we all know Home is where the Heart is.
39. The Weather Forecast©
By Michael Casey
In England we have weather, elsewhere they have climate.
Which may explain why here in England we are obsessed by
the weather and the weather forecast. I know my own wife
always demands I change channels so she can decide if she
can put the washing out, and what clothes she can wear. I
tell her she can press the red button, but that’s no good
she wants the live show of the weather. Then she can hang
my pants out, and get changed. When I visited Shanghai a
decade ago we’d be walking back to her mum’s flat she’d
point to the sky and there on the bamboo rods were my
pants blowing in the wind. Just like a flag she laughed.
So nothing much has changed, only the location of my
pants. Now on an old fashioned washing line in Old Forge
and Singing Anvil, then on a bamboo pole 4 flights up in
Shanghai, and there were no lifts in her mum’s block of
flats, lucky for us we did not have to walk to the 10th
floor. Explains why the Chinese are so fit and thin.
But why do we love the weather so much? Because its so
variable, so we lust after news of the weather, lust is
the correct word too. People go mad when the sun pops
out. Where I live its as if there is an alarm, the alarm
goes off and suddenly all the men are out on the street
of Old Forge and Singing Anvil, with shorts on. Really
ugly legs too, me I never wear shorts, though I once met
Freddie Garretty from Freddie and the Dreamers. Remember
the song? Who wears short shorts, we wear short shorts.
Am I really getting old, or do I just have a good memory
for trivia. Whatever, where I live men just love getting
their legs out. They must have an alarm in their pockets
attached to their mobile phone, text message tells them
to get their shorts on.
So don’t get burnt everybody and don’t forget the
sunscreen.
40. Call Centre Calling ©
By Michael Casey
We all just love call centres, we all just love it when
they call when we've just sat down on the toilet and
we're expecting a call from grandma in Shanghai. So the
phone rings and we dash for the Andrex and the sink to
wash our hands in. Then still pulling up our pants, we
fall down stairs just as Norman Wisdom or Brian Rix would
do, then pulling up our pants and doing up our trouser's
belt we pass by the hall mirror and see the black eye
we've just got. We answer the phone, there is a long long
pause, as if the call centre guy is having a final drag
on his **** before answering, "hi I'm Guy, could I
interest you in cable tv, I've got such a great package
to offer." his voice oh so so sexy, in his imagination
anyway. Has he not heard of Sky, the best package. So we
swear in Shanghai dialect, and hang up the phone. Then we
notice our trousers are split, the one's grandma in
Shanghai had made for us, the trousers for her Panzi, her
Fat Fat Boy son in law.
If only we could get revenge, just like in Bruce
Almighty. A bottled water company rings, so we click our
fingers and its as if the Dam Busters had breached that
dam, a sodden girl will NEVER ring your number again.
Then there's a knock at your door, it’s the Mormons, you
smile and smile, and they start running away, only asking
which way is the airport. Why? Well I'll leave that to
your imagination. The phone rings again, so you do heavy
breathing, only for a voice at the other end of the phone
to say "I'm Sergeant Dixon, would you be interested in
joining the neighbourhood watch scheme." "Sorry Wrong
Number is your reply." You decide to change, you're half
way up the stairs when the phone ring again, you turn and
fall down the stairs again. Your wife is just in the door
and she answers the phone, she can see you over her
shoulder, "I told you you were too fat for those
trousers" You trip over again, "bloody call centres is
all you can say."
41. Go to bed with the Japanese©
By Michael Casey
I just read about the Japanese being asked to go to bed
early to save energy and the carbon footprint and so
forth. I don't know about you but that'd end in a baby
boom in my family. The good old days of 12 children and
so forth. Shifts for the bed and the first one up being
the best one dressed. With the Japanese perhaps an early
whale sandwich on the tube to work. So they'd save the
planet but wipe out the whale. More sleep is a good idea,
then you have more dreaming opportunities. I have a dream
etc. Perhaps with more sleep the Japanese would invent
more things. My wife is almost Japanese as are all her
relatives and fellow citizens of Shanghai, Shanghai has
so much pride they could almost be Japanese. Don't forget
the song too, "I'm turning Japanese, I really think so."
Top of the Pops memories come flooding back. For my own
part I've discovered the joys of headphones and a
personal DAB radio, its great if you don't want to go to
sleep yet. Radio4 Midnight news followed by a bit of Bob
Harris or Magic Radio. Sleeping is good but you have to
collate your day before you go off to the land of Nod.
Then you are in a relaxed state so you really chill with
the music. Chill is another DAB station, listen to this
and sometimes you could really be in Japan, in one of
those sleeping capsules in one of those small hotels.
Sleep really is the greatest gift of all, once you have
your 1st baby you will really know what I mean. You sleep
less when you get older, so I've heard, but then you can
put the radio on and listen to something, or just read a
book while you stay all nice and cosy with the duvet
around you. Which brings me to my final thought, if we
all used duvets we wouldn't need to use energy to heat
our bedrooms, and did the Japanese invent duvets?
42. My Old Age©
By Michael Casey
I'm called "grandpa" by the teachers when I pick up my
kids from school. Because my hair is prematurely white.
In a way its a joke, but I am over 40 years older than my
kids. I was a late starter, but I do have a young wife,
who looks even younger because she's from the East,
Shanghai to be exact. In the East they respect Old Age,
so I'm all in favour of that. But as for having a good
old age, I think I'll be dead, I won't last that long.
I'll have to work to at least 66, and maybe 67. So I'll
be worn out by the time it comes to retire. My dad was a
blacksmith and then spent 40years in a steel works, The
District Iron and Steel in Brasshouse Lane Smethwick. Has
a ring to it don't you agree? He retired a year or two
early when the works was closed down. He had ten golden
years with my mum, then mum died, then he had 5 years in
an old people's home, read Padre Pio and Me
www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com But he at least had those
golden ten years.
My brother was made redundant and now at 60 he's retired.
He can look forward to 20+years of relaxation and
learning. Me I've got 14 years more to do, if there's any
jobs left. If I could win that lottery, then I'd retire
today and write more books. Or if I could get something
produced/published then I'd be able to retire. The
chances of that happening, probably zero, but strange
things have happened, read Literary Criticism on my site.
Perhaps the government should start a National Laughter
Campaign to cheer us all up, Ken Dodd should be
ringmaster. The thought of years of slavery is saddening,
perhaps we could start a National Singing Campaign, a
kind of whistle while you work, Arthur Askey
reincarnated to pass all those extra working years away.
We could sing the Song of The Hebrew Slaves, for that's
what'll happen, retire at 95 IF we're still alive, in the
year of 2010 If we're still alive
43. My favourite sweets
My favourite sweets are, now let me stop before I
continue. What are your favourite sweets, as you sit in
front on the PC, a cup of coffee perched by your screen
as you read this instead of doing those oh so interesting
Excel reports for the boss. Can you remember back to when
you were a child? Or have you never given up on sweets,
or are you a parent? Well for me it was always a
Cadbury's Crunch. My brother would sell his very soul for
a Rolo, my youngest daughter loves them too, her delight
is squashing them until these stick to our glass coffee
table, which is also our Chinese eating table. If you
look though the living room window you'll think you're
looking at a restaurant or looking at China. Well you
are, Shanghai to be exact, rice with everything. With a
diet like that my girls are tall and thin. That’s why they
enjoy sweets so much. My big daughter likes Caylie now,
if I've spelt it right. We all adore a nice bag of crisp,
so an Aldi 26 pack does down well. I'm old enough to
remember the salt being in a blue bag inside the crisps,
and not when they reinvented it 20 years ago, I mean 45
years ago. Pop came in heavy glass bottles which had a
penny refund on the bottle, and you could get some chews
with the refund. I always used to drink the dregs from
the pop bottles before taking the bottles back. My
brother who I'd put a red hot poker on his leg, just for
fun as kids do. Well my brother peed in a few bottles, to
simulate dregs, and yes you've guess it, I drank those
dregs. Which reminded me of the salt in crisps packets.
We had an old fashioned sweet shop just a few yards away
from the family house, two ancient sisters with a small
husband between them lived there and made bread but in
the front room was a sweet shop with all those jars of
sweets. They used to say to us children as we left "off
ye go, home to your parents. So we called the shop "off
ye goes".
As you grow up your tastes change, and its a nice novelty
to rediscover an old fashioned sweet shop. Then the
memories come flooding back. I'm lucky in a way because I
drunk so much milk it protected my teeth from all the
sugar. However I did give up sugar in my coffee when I
was 19, just to see if I could. Blokes discover beer and
stop having sweets, well until they are parents. As for
women its said that a woman would prefer a bar of
Cadburys or Galexy instead of a man. Give her a Jackie
Collins and chocolate and maybe some Baileys and the
whole human race could die. Sobering thought that. But it
does give a whole new meaning to "I'm Sweet on You."
Cheerio from a wet Birmingham, and don't forget
wine/chocolate/beer/Dr Pepper are all best served cold
just like revenge, as any Mafia friend may tell you,
44. Praise and Reward
Praise and Reward, it’s a sticky question. Some things
don't ask for praise or reward. Like if your kids do a
small chore for you, they don't ask for a pound, they are
just happy to help you, because they love you. If you are
thirsty they'll fetch you a drink, they won't charge you
for it, they'll do it instinctively. Just as my daughter
did this evening when she watched me decorating, or
rather my attempts at decorating, she even sacrificed her
fizzy pop for me, she knows how I prefer pop to alcohol.
Sometimes I'll offer a reward and she'll turn it down.
For me this shows I'm bringing her up the same way I was
brought up. I know the majority of people reading this
will think I'm old fashioned. I do know that her Irish
grandparents would be so proud of her if ever they saw
her, Irish granddad did hold her in his arms but after 7
months or so he was gone, as for my mum she went early to
make the tea.
Encouragement does work and should be used all the time.
My youngest daughter just loves Matilda the film based
on the Roal Dahl book. Why does she love it? Because its
funny, and because the little girl does find love with
the teacher. The teacher loves and encourages. Just as
everybody reading this does love and encourage their own
kids, even if at the moment the encouragement is to move
out of the way of the tv so all dad's mates can watch the
world cup, and isn't the garden a great place to be and
dad will give you some money for pop from the corner shop
If only the kids get out of the way of the tv.
My daugher has joined a sunday choir, so there she is
praising God, and she gets rewarded with a few quid for
singing.
They do say we all have to sing for our supper, just like
Little Tommy Tucker.
45. A Child's Love
How can I describe a child's love? I can speak of myself
when I was a child which from the Birth Certificate was a
long time ago. Though some may say I'm still a child,
others, such as women, all women, say that men never grow
up and are always children.
I can remember when I was 10 and I used to sit on the
top step of the stairs and we'd have a "social", me and
my mum. I'd tell her all we'd done at school and what had
happened, all in quiet a large amount of detail.Then my
mum would kiss me goodnight and give me a gentle pat
sending me off to bed. There was so much love in my mum,
lots and lots, for all her big family, lots of prayer
too. I always got an extra ice cream from my dad when we
were on holiday in Wales, we seemed to go to Abergele all
the time. My dad discovered hamburgers for the 1st and
tried 1 then another then another, in the end he had 6,
such wonderful memories. I seemed to remember a castle
nearby, playing golf with my closest brother, we had 1
club and 1 putter each, this was before Tiger Woods
existed. Our parents loved us and we loved them, this was
before the Modern Family was invented too. Nobody hated
their parents then, nobody dreamed of the Wii and hating
your parents because they would not buy you one. Tv was 2
channels and in black and white, everything was black and
white, you loved your folks and they loved you.
Now 40 or so years later I'm married and I have two small
girls of my own. My Chinese/Irish girls who love me.
Having a family when you thought you may not ever marry,
and then having 2 beautiful girls, this is very humbling
and does make me thank God. The important thing is to
make sure when they look in the mirror they don't fall in
love with their reflection. Its what's inside that
matters I always tell them. And you know what? Even at
their young age they know that beauty fades and is
worthless. A nice smile and a big big heart is what
matters, the reflection that you see in the mirror is
worthless. Mind you I always tell everybody that I fell
in love with my wife because she made me laugh. Nobody
believes me, but there are 2 people who know I'm telling
it as it is, my 2 daughters know it. I bought a book of
Poetry today, from the cheap book shop. There are lots of
of illustrations in it, 300 famous poems, including a
Children's poetry section. My biggest daughter loves to
draw and she is good, so the idea is to appeal to her
eyes and to her ears. It worked, she wanted to take the
book to bed with her. I said no as I'm old fashioned and
think books should be preserved, not bend and creased,
especially if read in bed. However as I write this I
think I should have let her. So tomorrow I will allow her
to take it to her room. However her smaller sister does
love to write on anything and everything. Perhaps I
should write a poem about that.
Girls like to be tucked in at night and you have to tell
them a story or say prayers with them. Then 10 mins later
they'll come down because they want a drink of milk, and
another kiss goodnight. And could I possibly come
upstairs and tuck them in again. Then 20mins later they
need another drink, so they come down again. Later on,
the girls reappear because they need the bathroom, well
did have all those drinks. Finally carrying more drinks
they disappear up the stairs. This is our Pantomime, a
pantomime of Love. I think of my dead parents and I know
how they would laugh. And my girls are only here because
my dad survived his big heart attack, Hugs and Kisses is
what little girls give. I love you 20 is what my small
daughter once said, 20 is a big number, so I'm loved that
much. I hope everybody reading this is loved 20 too!
46. Spare a Penny for Dad©
By Michael Casey
They say that if you look after the pennies the
pounds/dollars will look after themselves. So what
should I say if I have a trail of pennies, if I keep on
finding pennies all over the place, a kind of trail of
pennies. And they are pennies and sometimes dimes, for my
daughter has decided to leave American coins all over the
place for me to find. We were in Florida in 2006 and we
no doubt brought back a few coins. My daughter has found
them and thinks its fun to leave them all over the house
for me to find. I don't know if its just a joke, or is
she trying to encourage me with this trail of coins.
Someday I'll win some money, or maybe even the lottery
and then we can buy a big house and then she can have an
arts and crafts room. That would be better than a trail
of paint and water up the stairs to her room. It is nice
to find the odd American coin, it makes me smile and it
reminds me just how much she loves me. Her younger
sister has no notion of money, we don't give her money,
we buy her any things she wants so we avoid giving her
cash.
Its better to keep children innocent as long as possible,
some children demand money and know notes are a lot
better/bigger than coins. This always strikes me as
taking the innocent away from children, just as saying
Santa does not exist is a bad and evil thing to say.
Everybody knows Santa is real. Anyway don't let your
children fall in love with money, my youngest doesn't
even know that the brown coins have less value that the
silver ones, nor that the gold ones are best of all. I
want that to stay that way as long as possible.
Streetwise kids are a sad reflection of society, mine
will stay safe for as long as possible.
And as for a trail of American coins around the house,
they are my big daughter's joke, for she knows I'm happy
to find even one penny, especially as it means she loves
me.
Goodnight I have to tuck my children in bed now, and that
is better that all the pennies or pounds in the world.
47. Jigsaws in Your Mind
I'm dreaming of a White Christmas makes us all think of
Snow and Love and the film with Bing Crosby, not
forgetting Family. A few bars of a song and we are away,
our minds are somewhere else. Mind you in today's world
its a few drugs, or so called legal highs and the youth
of today are away. Their minds turning to mush. Me I
like to use my mind and not destroy it. I've been
thinking about Tears For A Butcher which will be the
follow up to The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker.
Words, ideas ,dreams float by and I sew them together,
not with a needle and thread but with imagination. It
takes time and a lot of energy to create a jigsaw that is
a story which turns into a book. It’s like word
association, or an old photo that’s discovered and brings
back memories. We found a photo of me in shorts and
wearing glasses I was alongside my tall brother, we were
in Oxford visiting my brother at University. An
angel poise lamp was in the photo, the same angel poise
lamp that’s sat in a corner of my brother's house today.
Pictures lead to memories and in some cases to more
futures, dreaming of the spires of learning, but that’s
another story and another university. When I write its
with passion, I really am taken over by the words, by the
thoughts, sometimes its like an avalanche and I'm right
in the middle of it. I couldn't be all clinical and
planned and precise. I'm not an architect, I am a
dustman, I pick up what I find and use it, I transform
it, and If I can be pretentious, it transforms me too. We
have a friend who just loves music so I emailed him my
best 3 poems and to his surprize he now now thinks I'm a
poet, in fact his wife just rung my wife, about some
recipe no doubt. Chinese folks are just mad for their
food. Anyways with Poems they sneak into my mind and then
I sit down with the idea and I finish it off. BUT Poems
are in charge of me and now me in charge of them. In Nov
1987 I wrote a poem called The Dead and The Living
because I wanted Percy the Undertaker in my novel to be a
man of great tenderness, a poet in fact. The idea came to
me on a bus as I was on my way to my Sunday shift as a
computer operator. I knew then that I would never write
anything better than those few lines. However last year I
had a line come to me while I was in Saint Phillips
Cathedral having a rest and a sit down. The line was Let
my Tears be my words. When I got home I sat down and
finished the poem with my daughter sat on the edge of my
chair. When I finished I realised that I'd just written
something better than the Dead and The Living, it had
taken 22years. Such is the nature of Poetry. As for my
comedy writing I start somewhere and a connection will
take me somewhere else, a bit like being a ball in a
pinball machine, I get knocked and flipped and nudged
until I end up in quite a different place to where I
began. It is very tiring. Two hours is like a 12 hour
shift, because I'm using all my juices. I have toyed with
the idea of writing Tears for A Butcher, in fact the 1st
chapter is down on paper and in cyberspace. But I don't
want to commit myself to a year of writing, If I sold
some of my other stuff then, or if I had a fan base, then
yes. But for the moment no, so I am content to be a
windmill in my mind, and yes it really is my favourite
song.
48. Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting
Marrying a Shanghai girl brought many changes to my life.
The sound of chickens clucking for one, Chinese really
does sound like chickens in a hen house, if you listen to
the wife talk to her friends over the Internet or on the
phone or when a few are around the house.Chickens,
chickens,chickens. The Mandarin for it is "quock quock
quar" or something like that. Just ask ask your own
Chinese friends and they will agree. They'll also tell
you that Panzi my own Chinese nickname means FAT FAT BOY,
not a fat boy, but FAT FAT BOY. I finally get married and
have a family and I get called Panzi. Weighing 3 times as
much as the wife or mother in law, has nothing to do with
it, honest I'm a priest you can believe me.
Films brought us together and we still enjoy watching
films on tv. If I could afford Sky Films I'd love to have
it, and a Sky+ HD box. Our Sky+ box is always filled
with films for all the family, Over the Hedge, Bride and
Prejudice and all manner of stuff. Occasionally we have
to cull the films to make room for more. Sky+ really is a
godsend for any family. I was just watching Kung Fu
Hussle which had Steven Chow in it. It really was great
fun. Lots of Kung Fu action and lots of fun , and I do
mean fun. It was in Chinese with the bottom of the screen
cut off for the sub titles. I was really laughing, it was
on Film4. Chinese Kung Fu films are like ballet and yes
beyond belief but great great fun. If you don't normally
watch subtitled films then please take a chance on my
review skills. Do watch and laugh along. I won't tell you
anything else about it I don't want to spoil it.
Previously there was another film on the tv, it was
called Red Flowers, again in Chinese with subtitles. This
was about a nursery and how a child was dumped there, it
had no Kung Fu in it, but it was really charming. How
they got all the small children to act in it I'll never
know but it was well worth a watch. I was asking my kids
just how much Mandarin they each understood, one was busy
reading the subtitles while the other seemed to
understand a great deal of it. Having 2 languages I hope
will pay dividends for my kids. In the future they can
bring Crunchies and Dr Pepper to me when I'm retired,
they should be able to afford them if them keep their
language skills up. Their heart they get from me and
their beauty from my wife.
I'll leave it there for tonight.
49. What is Prayer ? What is Love? ©
By
Michael Casey
What is Faith? We are told in one Bible passage that if a
man can do many things yet there is no Love then man has
achieved nothing. I remember this being read at grammar
school at the morning assembly. . Sorry if I cannot quote
it verbatim. I'd come home from work and my dad would be
sitting down in the living room his dinner on a chair so
he could watch the news ,he'd have the first bite raised
to his mouth. I'm not hungry he'd say and offer me his
dinner. This is love. Another time, another shift
pattern. I'd come home at 11p. Dad would wait up to see
me before he'd go to bed, he'd be up at 5am for his work
the next morning. This is the standard I'm used to, I'll
do the same for my own children. Its normal, it’s
obvious. To me anyway. My mother used to watch Dallas on
tv after she'd fed all her children, one hand in her
apron as she watched tv. Only the hand always jumped in
her pocket, she was saying the rosary while she watched
tv. Very Irish, very motherly. Very normal, the standard I
got used to. Countless mothers the world over do the
same. They may be Christians, they may be of a multitude
of different Faiths, yet one thing in common. Love, love
of God, love of family, love of children . And do we
thank our parents for this love? If we didn't and now our
parents our gone, then do we live with regret all our
lives . No, this would be folly. We can thank our parents
and our God by being good parents, by trying to copy the
good example shown to us . I met my wife in the
retirement home where my dad lived after his near fatal
heart attack, which happened 8 bare weeks after my mother
died in her sleep. My dad lived long enough for me to
meet/marry and have a granddaughter. As I gaze on my
daughter's face I often say "thank you". Thank You to God
for allowing me a wife and for having a daughter. An
extremely beautiful daughter, healthy and funny. I have to
show the moon to my daughter because she thinks its so
pretty, she loves stars too , not yet 22months old and
she knows the wonder of creation . As I look upwards and
see the cold beauty of space I know how lucky I am. I
know how lucky I am. Lucky enough to cry, which I do on
occasions. My tears are my humble thanks and praise of
God. I have a family. July 96, mom was gone 2 months, and
dad was now given 1 week to live. So after 3years of
constant visits to the seniors home I met my wife, my
Shanghai China. So yes I cry in the dark of the night as
I look up at the stars . I am a lucky man, because I had
good parents, I know I did . I hope everybody could be as
lucky as me .....
well I hope this reads ok , I couldn't think of any
poetry , I just hope telling it plain catches the spirit
, the spirit of love . One word, one look, one sigh, one
flicker of the eyes, each of these is a prayer, a deep
prayer . A prayer of hope, pray, hope and don't worry is
a motto I try to live by that’s all the advice I can give
michael
50. Singing Songs
To sing is to doubly praise, Saint Cecilia said that. My
sister says it too on occasion. Singing makes us all
happy, it lightens the load, it helps pass the time, if
we are happy we'll whistle or hum or sing. Just ask any
workman, though workmen still like to whistle, or should
I say wolf whistle when they see a pretty girl. "Hello
Darling" rings out from high up an unfinished building,
followed by laughter when the girl turns around and the
girl is in fact a boy with a girlish haircut.
But I was talking about singing. My girls were singing "A
sailor went to sea, sea sea, to see what he could see see
see." so obviously I jointed in. My youngest was amazed
that I knew it, so I told them that that rhyme must be at
least 50 years old. So on they sang, doing the hand
clapping that accompanies it. It took me back, where have
all the years gone, I really hope I can last till 100
then I'd have more time with my girls and any
grandchildren or even on great great grandchild. But
that's up to God, the girls Great Grandpa is alive and
kicking into his 90s, he's on his 3rd wife now having
worn out the 1st 2, Shanghai diet in a warm China may
explain it.
Grandma does sing Jesus songs with the girls over the
Internet from Shanghai, and my big daughter has just
joined the choir at Saint Hilda's down road from the
woods. Google tells me Hilda was very wise and lived a
monastic life. My daughter did an audition and was let
into the choir. They even pay a small stipend. My own
sister has been singing over 45 years, despite us telling
her to shut up. Me and my brothers were altar boys, none
of us getting any reward for this church work. Perhaps we
should have stopped being Catholics and moonlighted for
the Protestants. I was also a reader for 7 years, so I
can remember passages from the Bible, as well as hearing
them all my life these past 50 years.
Singing songs is very very touching, a song will touch
the heart and my sister is right, to sing is to doubly
praise. Songs at funerals which open the floodgate,
Angels by Robbie Williams is very popular now, it was
played at my cousin's funeral; songs at the last night of
the Proms which make you proud and happy. As I talk to
you I listening to music, Hotel California from the
Eagles, 34 years ago that was out. I never guessed I'd
spend 3 years in an hotel. Hotels have music to kill the
deadness of an empty foyer/reception area, as do bars.
Songs that you can sing too give a place a good vibe. Gay
bars play lots of Abba I'm told, again because its great
happy music, it helps the fun on a cold Tuesday evening.
I'm listening to an old Elton John album now, Made in
England, its worth digging out, its from 1995. Classical
music and opera touch us too, even when we cannot
understand a word. Pavorotti, and that blind Italian
singer Andrei Bocelli, both can touch us. I remember in
1966 when the whole family went to Lourdes, we were
singing Ave Maria in the darkness, holding up our lighted
candles, perhaps 40,000 people singing in the dark. Now
that is really touching and uplifting. I suppose other
Faiths do things their way which are no doubt just as
powerful.
As you have all no doubt gathered through these blogs, I
do like my music, a pocket DAB is always close to me, in
fact after 5 years its a bit battered, so I have to save
up for a replacement. When you're happy and you know it
clap your hands, is a song we sing when we are kids, we
are all so free. We sing when we are in the shower, we
sing when we are in love.
Song is the Spirit that cannot be broken, we sing to
babies in the crib, babies can hear before they are born,
its singing that creates love.
So sing, sing, sing. For we are alive
Well I hope you all enjoyed this. It’s a 50 piece selection of my writing that’ll I
use to get a writing job.
www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com is where my writing lives on a day to day
basis.
You can also buy my 5 books on Amazon Kindle by just clicking on the link
http://www.amazon.co.uk/MichaelCasey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
Thank You
Michael Casey
NOW the final 50 that make up Michael Casey’s Blogs 2011
51. Comedy from Birmingham The Butcher The Baker And The
Undertaker
Leap Years Day 1988 introduced :-
The Butcher, The Baker & The Undertaker (c) a comedy
drama for everybody set in Old Forge and Singing Anvil a
perfect tv series or one off drama depending on your
budget---------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------A novel , plays and humour
essays all on my site www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com Now
how do I grab your attention I was born in the shadow of
Cape Hill Brewery , Smethwick , which is on the side of
Birmingham. I ended up working for a market research
company into Alcohol Sales , and I was the shandy drinker
. Any alcohol and I was off my tree .
The novel also on the site is called The Butcher , The
Baker and The Undertaker (c), very tongue in cheek ,
simultaneously on several levels . An undertaker who
becomes an election agent so a dodgy builder becomes a
member of Parliament in the constituency of Old Forge and
Singing Anvil , (my dad was a blacksmith from County
Kerry Eire , yes really).www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker is a comedy
drama about a street of shops in Old Forge and Singing
Anvil in England . Here's a flavour Wayne buys a derelict
pub and his wife is pregnant with twins , things could
not be worse , Mrs Murphy comes to the rescue with a loan
, and 2 sets of twins the builders work for nothing , God
looks down and helps too , Wayne discovers a hidden
cellar underneath the cellar , its full of 40year old
whisky left over from the war WWII , the pub was where
the local black marketer left everything . Wayne and
family are saved .The Undertaker has a feud with the
traffic warden for putting a parking ticket on his
hearse. On the way there' a Jazz funeral , a teddy bear
called Patrick , a dog called hairy Amjit who has a mind
of his own . The Undertaker’s sons leaves the business
and Percy is at a loss , his son returns with a Prodigal
Son plea for forgiveness , "Father forgive me , I now
know that computers are not for me , there is no love in
computers , but in our business there is love and
compassion .The Undertaker tries to blackmail a bent
builder who is going to demolish the street of shops
where they all live . Peace is restored so the Undertaker
becomes the election agent for the builder and takes him
on a tour of all the rest homes , so that the builder
ends up getting into the Houses of Parliament . The dodgy
bookie Smiling Paul has a bet on the election and wins
1million pounds. The Undertaker is furious until her
hears that Smiling Paul had a road to Damascus experience
and gave away all the money to help save the Chinese
restaurant business of his Chinese friends . So Smiling
Paul becomes a man of honour , and gets a stunning
girlfriend on the way , because the Chinese must honour
him . The writing is funny and tongue in cheek , if some
readers see it just as a ma and pa book then good , but
if they step back they will see that I'm gently poking
fun at my characters . Such as Big Sid the butcher who is
like a year around Santa . Patrick the baker is trying to
have a love life but all the street knows his every move
. His mother is relieved when finally he meets the right
girl , a virgin , who turns out to be the only daughter
of the man who saved the bakery many years before , to
Patrick's mum its a miracle and the will of God .
I finish with a poem from Percy the Undertaker
The Dead and The Living (c)
by
Michael Casey
I first saw a deceased when I was nine years old ,my
father said not to worry as the dead are the same as the
living , only the laughter has left them , the sparkle
has gone from their eyes , the worry has been lifted from
their shoulders , and their voice has vanished to
eternity .In paradise the sparkle will return for it is
the twinkle of the stars , the laughter will return too
for it is the morning breeze and the turning tides are
their sides shaking with laughter .I treat the deceased
with the same courtesy as I give to the living , though I
find the deceased are always more polite . My father also
had a few words to say about the living .He said that the
living are only the caretakers of the soul , yet they
think their existence is everything , that they know
everything because they experience many things with their
senses . What the living don't acknowledge is that their
time is short and when I lay their bodies to rest then
their souls continue without them , without their strong
, without their weak , without their beautiful or even
ugly temporary form , to where I cannot say , only that
it is a better place .Percy the undertaker placed the lid
on the coffin ,the soul was free
THE BEGINNING
www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
p.s. I was vetted by a Chinese Ballet dancer from the
Birmingham Royal Ballet when I met my wife, my wife had
met the Ballet dancer in the church next door to my old
Grammar school so with a life like this no wonder I
write comedy
52. Telephone Interviews
Telephone interviews are a new feature of the modern
world. With so many people chasing those jobs, it’s the
fastest way to sort the wheat from the chaff. There are
good and bad points to it. The interviewer can be sat on
the bed in a 4star hotel with a nice bottle of wine
gently breathing beside him as he asks questions over the
phone. As for the interviewee he can be in his dressing
gown with 5 days worth of stubble on his face, his hair
unwashed and uncombed, a hole in his slippers. Then
politely they talk about the skill set the interviewee
can bring to the task, how much experience he has doing
this and doing that. The interviewer can ask the
interviewee to hold the line as there is another call
coming in, and he does apologise. So the interviewee is
left on hold while the interviewer finishes his glass of
wine and pours himself another glass. The interviewee
pastes his hair down with spit even though he cannot be
seen, but while on hold he will tidy himself up a bit.
The interviewer watches the sports headlines on Sky TV
before having another sip from his glass before resuming
the interview. Questions about experience and future
career paths are posed and answered. The interviewee
feels confident and smiles at himself in the mirror. The
interviewer loosens his belt and lets his stomach out.
The interview is concluded.
Mr Unkempt gets through to the next round. This time he
has to SSS which means exactly what it says, SSS. He
spends ages in the bathroom , more than his sisters did
when he used to live at home. He wears his best shiny
black shoes, only for the laces to snap, so then he has
to hunt around to find a lace that matches his shoes.
Only he cannot, so he steals a navy one from a different
pair of shoes. He looks in the mirror to see if its
noticeable, and it is, so he loosens his belt, so his
trousers hang lower so that they hide his shoes, only
problem is that with his fat belly his trousers might
fall off completely. That would certainly make an
impression at the interview. If he was applying for a
farce actor’s position then it would be great, Brian Rix
would be impressed. The interviewer is a power dresser,
his 1000pound suit compared to the 49.99 one worn by the
interviewee. And yes the laces are noticed, immediately.
Positive body language v negative body language, neutral
body language. Arms folded, arms open, open legs with
hands on top of knees. Licking of lips, eyes skyward,
eyes averted, eyes straight and looking into the soul.
The usual interview so to speak. Then the waiting for a
letter in the post, or an email for fail.
Happy Interviews everybody.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
53. As these tears fall
As these tears fall, we remember we have been here
before.
As these tears fall, the love we feel hurts so much more.
As these tears fall, we are stunned and don't know what
to say.
As these tears fall, we must remember them all.
As these tears fall, we think of the smiles.
As these tears fall, we remember the laughter.
As these tears fall, we remember the kisses.
As these tears fall, we touch their things that will
never be used again.
As these tears fall, we finish ironing the shirt or the
trousers that will never be worn again.
As these tears fall, we feel a hole in our heart that
aches so much.
As these tears fall, we remember their touch, comforting
and more.
As these tears fall, we are heartbroken for our lost
futures.
As these tears fall, we give thanks for what we did have.
As these tears fall, love carries on, we will meet again.
54.The Light from a Candle ©
By Michael Casey
I watched as the candle's life ended, smoke spiralled in
the air. I tried to see where the smoke was going only it
just disappeared into nothingness. Another candle came to
an end, but suddenly it rared up a final flicker of flame
then it was gone, black smoke twirling into the air. I
strained to see where the smoke was going only it was no
use. I'd need a magnifying glass, binoculars, a
microscope or a periscope, smoke just could not be
followed. Another candle went out again I strained to see
where its life had gone, but it was no use, the trail
disappeared into nothingness. The candles were going out
randomly, I had to jump from one to another in a vain
attempt to see its moment of death, so that I could
observe what was happening to them. In all 7 maybe 8
candles "died" as I watched from my position sat next to
the candle rack in the cathedral on my lunch break. That
was all yesterday, and today the process was
repeated. Each candle is a hope, a wish, a prayer. Just as
Jazz music is music turned into smoke, that weavers and
sneaks its way through an audience, a candle and its
smoke is a living flame of hope and love which we all
hope will touch God's spirit and let him hear our
prayers. The smoke from a candle is like a ballet dancer
doing the most intricate of dances, its like girl dancing
with a ribbon at the Olympics. Only the candle and its
smoke might say more for us when we can't think of the
right words to say, God Help Us, can be all we can say,
but if said from the heart then it is enough, For Faith
Moves Mountains.
And candles are more than flickers that end in smoke,
they remind us of the Light and Warmth of God's Love.
55. Having A Heatwave in Birmingham England
Having a Heat Wave
By Michael Casey
Well the sun has shone on Birmingham, my wife took the
kids to a fancy pool with slides and so forth. I had said
just go down the road, 200 yards to the local swimming
baths. The kids wanted slides so off she drove. Only the
Stourbridge centre was closed. So she soothed the kids
with magazines. I just laughed when they got back, the
kids didn't want to try the local baths as they now had
something to read. So the back garden was now the beach,
a pink umbrella was now a sun shade, pink hats were worn
and sun tan cream was spread everywhere. The plastic kids
chairs were also dragged out into the garden, the
bedspread from one of the beds upstairs was also dragged
into service. The fish radio would also have been pressed
into service only the batteries have fallen out. As for
me I went out shopping when the edge had gone off the
heat. It was a DIY Subway brought into the home, so we
had wraps that we filled with mayonnaise and ham and spicy
stuff. Washed down with fizzy pop and coffee. Ice cream
and cones were ready in the fridge. We had a pudding if
that’s the right word of ice cold pineapple and its juice.
If you've never had pineapple and its juice chilled right
down, then do try it. It was family affair then we
settled down for Dr Who on tv, we cannot decide on the
new Dr Who, he just seems silly, we want him to be great
but he isn't.
A kind neighbour knocked the door to tell us the car
window was still open, the kids had left it that way when
they were out searching for a pool. So at least the car
will still be outside in the morning. My girls are off to
join a choir in the morning, so you can imagine what
that'll lead too. I can remember my sister singing and 45
years ago and more "shut up" was how us Casey boys
responded, she's still in that church choir. So If I
reach 100 my own girls could be singing in the Warley
Woods choir. So that's our day today, tomorrow is
Pentecost which is when the Holy Spirit came to the
disciples, its a kind of birthday, the birth day of the
Church. It was a beginning and Pentecost can be a
beginning for each and everyone of us, we don't have to
speak in tongues or do miracles. Just saying hello to
somebody on the bus or in the street, a simple smile can
be a beginning, breaking down barriers with love.
56. this is a true story starting 14years ago
Padre Pio and Me ©
By
Michael Casey
It’s a contradiction in terms immediately , how can I
copyright a Saint . A brand new saint at that . I first
heard of him through some Religious reading I did . I
feel embarrassed to admit it , but I am a practising
Catholic , its not fashionable to have any Faith but its
mine so I admit it . Immediately the prejudice begins ,
but if I WERE A Jew or a Muslim , it would be the same .
I do feel that my catholic tastes have given me a broader
outlook on life , as has my eclectic tastes and rubbing
shoulders with a wide variety of people .
But I want to talk about Padre Pio . I had a crisis and
was reading about him at the time , so I said my prayers
to him and the way forward was revealed . Though Padre
Pio always says go Higher , he is just a stepping stone
on the way to a better place . What is so hard to
understand about Padre Pio is how he suffered . He had
the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune . Condemned
by his own superiors , made to be quiet for a decade and
so forth . Science Fiction teaches or rather amuses us
about Time Travel , but with Padre Pio it really happened
, he wanted to share in Christ’s agony so he thought ,
what if he too could have and suffer the wounds on that
day of Crucifixion . So it came to pass that he suffered
for 50years . He had the indignity of medical
examinations and of being thought just to be a mental
patient , but his work and life proved his holiness .
So it’s nearly 1990 and I hear about him and read a few
books , its hard to understand the value of suffering in
this age of quick fix pain killers and the lets have a
fix , whatever the fix might be , sex, drugs and rock and
roll or whatever . Its like suddenly studying again after
years of lying fallow , the learning curve is enormous .
So too is it with Padre Pio , the idea behind his life is
enormous , but so too is the capacity for love and help .
My favourite story is how Padre Pio explains that The
Wedding Feast at Cana happened because Jesus could not
refuse his mother . Very Italian , or Irish or Spanish
and so on , but could any of us refuse our mothers?
So I thought more about what Padre Pio said , and his
motto of Pray Hope Don’t Worry became my own . Carpe Diem
is another good motto but perhaps this can be used by any
Hedonist , or other kind of selfish person .Padre Pio
reminds us to pray and that pray is not wasted , its
perfume that is never wasted is a phrase I like . My
mother always used to say that if you couldn’t sleep you
should say the Rosary , and she was right . Though in
today’s world an hour on the Internet or with MTV might do
the trick .
So why the devotion to Padre Pio , I’ll cut to the chase.
My mother died suddenly but peacefully in her sleep , my
brother tried CPR , but she was gone . Imagine the
anguish amongst her 6 children and her husband of nearly
50 years . All except me , my mother had said no tears
when she go ,so I never cried , I was the odd one out .I
know how prayerful she was , so I had no need of tears .
Eight bare weeks later my brother , the same brother
heard our dad fall out of bed , so he ran to his bedroom
. My brother was facing the exact same situation , he
tried CPR , the ambulance was called , an injection was
given straight to the heart . On weekends there is a
doctor in the ambulance , so Luck , if that’s the word
was with us . The next day 4 of my brothers and sisters
came around to tell me the news . When my sister had come
around 8 weeks previously I knew somebody was dead but I
assumed it was my dad , he’s die first we all thought .
So now 8 weeks later it was his turn to die .
At the hospital dad was given 1 week to live , I cried
like a baby , worse than a baby , but I loved him , so I
told he he should go to our mother and not hang on if he
didn’t want to . The next day I was in my sister’s house
crying , we picked hymns for his funeral .Yet my father
survived , 19 patients on a heart ward , 18 died my dad
survived . Padre Pio was besieged by my prayers , I put
Padre Pio’s photo under his pillow . Dad lost his mind ,
he was in Dudley Rd for 3months , 12 weeks , more than
half of them all tubed up . His life hanging in the
balance . At the same time somewhere in Florida another
man was at deaths door , he was a totally stranger to me
, I didn’t even know his name , I’d never met him , he
was give 24hours to live , a Chinese man from Shanghai
was at deaths door . The Chinaman survived .My dad’s
memory was totally wiped , he did not know who I was, I’m
your son was greeted with , am I married . I was the
favourite son , he did not even know me . But still we
prayed , it’s a feeling in your guts , just like when you
are nearly killed as you cross the road , its in your
guts and in your heart , Jesus save my dad , Jesus save
my dad , Padre Pio help !!! This goes around your head
like a merry go around or a kaleidoscope . Finally dad
awoke . He said that he can remember hearing the doctor
say to wheel him down to the end of the ward , because
he’d be dead soon . At that moment my dad awoke, and the
doctor dropped his cup of tea in shock . No not an
instantaneous miracle , but as Dr Singh had said if he were
30years younger he’d have a heart transplant because
dad’s heart was rubbish .
Now , when I told my brother that dad was reading a
newspaper he was shocked . His memory had come back . He
knew who we all were .Every day for three months I walked
the corridor at Dudley Rd , the longest hospital corridor
in Europe , 1 kilometre long . Finally he left the
hospital , my sister had found a good home for him to
live in , he was far too weak to live in the family house
.
For 3 years dad survived , like a Godfather with all his
children making constant visits . Finally I met my future
wife . It was her uncle who had miraculously survived at
the same time as my father . It was her uncle who
encouraged us in our love . From Shanghai to Birmingham
.These great men , her uncle and my father never met ,
but I know Padre Pio must have helped both of them .
Further prayer was needed to bring me and my wife
permanently together . A Chinese miracle happened . Now
we are wed , we have a 2year old and please God a healthy
second baby in the Autumn . The improbability of our
meeting , plus the fact that both men HAD to live for us
to be married and have a family , this may be a
coincidence to some but I know a miracle when I see one.
A miracle is something that makes you feel humble , it
makes you know that God has whispered your name . When I
look at my wife , I feel humble . Seeing our daughter
laugh and play also makes me humble as will our new baby.
Then you can look back and know that prayer is like
perfume that can never be wasted , your life has led you
to where you are now , yes at times sad and terrible ,
but be humble in the sight of God means something , not
just for me , but for all Believers .
I once stood by the fridge and said to Padre Pio , I give
up , you take over , all I want is to be married , and
perhaps have a family , and do something useful with my
life . That was just before my eyes were opened to my
wife . I used to say that I got 2 out of my 3 wishes .
Perhaps my current occupation is my 3rd wish , or a more
outstanding miracle is waiting in the wings , but as
Padre Pio said ,always ask for the big Grace .Perhaps
we have to be humble enough to deserve it , because I
believe it to be a fact that , truly great people are
humble because they know just how little they really
know.
57.The watch and me
I suppose my love affair with the watch started when I was just a child
now 30 years on the passion is still there . I remember lifting up my
dad's shirt sleeve to look at the watch on his wrist , watching the second
hand sweep around and asking what time was it , not that I really
understood the concept of time , I knew midnight was always dark , that
was about it really . Oh apart from some special time called "opening
time" and "closing time" , our lodgers would pay their rent at the back
door before rushing off to the pub , it was a mystery to me .
A cousin of ours was to be ordained a priest in Dublin , so dad and
2 of my brothers went off to Dublin for the ceremony . I remember Tony
coming back with a watch on his wrist , it had a black strap and had a
small face , then at the bottom was separate dial with a second hand on
it , we all thought it was very posh . So being children we now used this
dial to see how long we could hold our breath , we'd take a deep breath
and pump up our cheeks then Tony waved his hands and we'd start our
endurance test . Only stopping when we fell over our faces brilliant red
and our eyes bulging . I remember Tony seemed to win this game always ,
not because he cheated but because he loved under water swimming so had
mastered holding his breath . Then we had a contest to run down the yard
past the hedge to the bottom of the garden and touch the fence and
come back and touch the wall of the house , we were all young and mad then
but such simple fun was all because we had a watch with a second hand .
Jim was our lodger for 20years , when he'd been with us for 11 years
I badgered him for a present , for a watch . if I passed the 11 plus exam.
Finally he gave in and gave me his own 2nd best watch , in fact I got it
before I even sat the exam . So the watch Jim gave me was my first watch
ever . The trouble with leather watch straps is that they dig into your
flesh , so you loosen the strap but then the watch dangles , so I
compromised by using stretch straps , then you can slide a stretch strap
all the way up your arm , until it feels comfortable . I also always liked
mechanical watches , it was a night time ritual , taking my watch off and
winding it up , setting the time against the chimes of Big Ben on the
radio . So you can see just how important a watch is to me . There is just
one thing I've forgotten to mention , watches always break . Well when I
wear them anyway . For the past 20 years as a computer operator I'm always
carrying something and banging my watch on doors or whatever . So they
break , leaving my watch in the bathroom while I take a bath was another
of my bad habits . Watches steam up on me , or the winder gets rusty and
breaks off , or I break the glass , or the glass falls out . Once the
glass fell out , so I glued it back again , only to make a mess of the job
and glue the hands of the watch together as well . Finally I decided to
get a quartz watch , they were accurate , only my sweaty wrist steamed up
the face constantly , so I couldn't read the time . On average a watch
lasts me 1 year , my sister Mary always laughs every time I show her my
latest new watch . A simple Lorex watch was the best one I ever had , its
lasted 5 years . However I must confess that it has only lasted me that
long because when dad was in hospital after mum had died and he had nearly
died too he wanted a watch so he could pass the time , by looking at the
watch , so he'd know when his next meal was , the fact that there was a
clock on the wall not 2 yards away did not matter . Of course I took the
watch off my wrist and gave it to him . he was my dad and I loved him , so
if a watch would please him , he could have mine . That was 4 years ago ,
dad is called the miracle man , by the doctors , he beat death , dad's
time was up and the grim reaper made an appearance twice , but dad is
still alive and kicking , my watch ticking on his wrist . Or so it was
until last month . Jie Jie my Chinese wife bought me a fancy watch for my
Birthday so I gave dad my watch , a fancy Esprit model , and I retired the
old one , but I have kept it as a souvenir , we all thought dad would die
in weeks , but his heart is still ticking as strong and reliable as a
Rolex watch . I think when we all die , if we are not worthy of Paradise
immediately God will issue us with a Rolex and we have to wear it for a
billion years , until we are worthy of Paradise . God's watch is the
turning tides , the movement of the stars across the heavens and
rumbling super novas , after all didn't time begin with creation . It is
us stupid mankind who try to limit it to a dial on a watch .
58. As I look out my window
I look out my window the breeze gently rocks the rose
bush in my front garden. Loony Chick the teddy bear or
should I say the teddy chick big and bright yellow sits
in the front window. He or is it she, came all the way
from Shanghai last Summer now Loony Chick sits in the
window of our Birmingham home. But at least Loony Chick
can still hear some Chinese every day and still smell
Chinese food. So Life is normal for him or is it her? So
what is normal? Having your own bed to sleep in and not
some hotel far far away, not grandma's house in Shanghai,
not an uncles house in Shanghai. Just normal, ordinary
Birmingham. The clouds are so bright, the white white
candy floss with all its funny shapes. The grey clouds
are trying to group together to form rain clouds and then
in the middle is the blue blue sky. This is Nature and is
a Free Show, just as the breeze can be like a kiss on
the cheek, the flowers beginning to bloom, the buds on
the buds on my neighbours apple tree next door, the
golden chain at the bottom of my own garden. Transplanted
20 years ago and more from my own mum's garden. The
technicolour green grass in the garden, the bluebells in
the flower bed and a few stray ones in the lawn itself.
Grandpa's flower too, as we call one lone tulip which
holds such memories for us. There are a few weeds too and
some wild shamrock that survived this harsh Winter just
gone, scattered chalks in the yard, or should I say
patio, which has drawings all over it, thanks to my
artistic girls. Then there is the view of the washing
line with small small clothes on it, until you see my
"flags" giant items blowing in the wind, my clothes are
so big compared to my girls things. When I was in
Shanghai the 1st time, now over 10years ago, we could
locate Ma's house by my flags hanging from bamboo poles
from the window ledge 4 stories up.
And the point of all my musings? Today everybody wants to
talk about the new PM and the New Politics, and there
will be much noise made. So instead of worrying about
that, why not just sit sit back and have a nice cup of
coffee and a Cadburys Crunchy Bar too. Look outside in
the garden and see the bumble bees bumbling, see the
magpies dance about, they may even steal your Crunchy Bar
wrapper. Watch the clouds amble through the sky, listen
to that ticking clock on the shelf besides the hugh
Chinese/English dictionary, bound in red of course. The
Tick Tock is soothing compared to the whine of the PC
processor at my feet, I can hear the back door close as
my wife brings in the washing. All these are ordinary
things BUT usually they go unobserved, take time out, if
I dare mention a rival chocolate bar, take time out just
to enjoy life. None of this costs any money nor takes any
effort, BUT will be good for your Spirit, failing that
just reach for the Johnny Walker Red Label, or in my case
the Dr Pepper.
59. Image Imagination Ignorance
I did a quick google of "michaelgcasey" to see who was
looking me up. Then I clicked on Image to see the snaps
of myself. This morning loads of snaps appeared. This
proves several things, my vanity, and who in the whole
wide world is clicking on "michaelgcasey" to check me
out. There are family snaps plus ones of me in a suit, or
me in an Australian rugby shirt holding up the self
published version of my book. As you all know I still
want a REAL publisher and me holding up the book in a
real book store. That's the image I'd really like to see.
As you all also know anybody who has clicked on my stuff
or posted stuff in a comment then their connection
appears in a Google search. So their image is tied to my
image, even if really they have no connection to me at
all. Its like a stranger standing in at a wedding photo
just for the fun of it. Wedding crashers is the name of
the game. This actually happened at one wedding I
attended.
My main theme though is Image. At a Wedding we all tend
to wear our best suits and polish those black shoes that
have been gathering dust at the back of the closet. We
make an effort so to please our mum, our friends, our ex
lover, boyfriend, girlfriend and so on. We spend 20K or
30K in USD, all so that we look good on the Wedding
photos, we have a day to remember. Personally I say its
the Marriage that Matters, not the Wedding Day. You can
read from the Bible and as you read you wonder, how long
will this Marriage last. Everybody looks so good, and
they have chosen the best caterers, the cake was made by
Aunt Ann and she does it for a living, we saved so much
you know. All this is Image. You could have bought a
brand new car instead, but the Day in King, So even
though we can't afford it, we will have our day so that
someday in the future somebody somewhere can google and
find us all dressed to the nines on our wedding day. Me I
just bought a new car, I won't even bore you with why.
I'll let you all use your imagination. How many different
guesses will you all have?
In Shanghai and the East they do a photo shoot with
various costumes including the traditional white wedding
dress, then they hand out credit card sized photos of the
loving couple. The book is as big as a shopping catalogue
with photos printed on very very thick paper. It’s a nice
souvenir, a nice Image.
What of our own individual image. Don't take a photo my
hair's a mess, say wives and girlfriends and perhaps some
TV reporters, male and female. Let me comb my hair first.
Tuck in your shirt, wipe the pizza from your face. Change
your clothes, and the list goes on. Politicians dress up
or dress down, Royalty over here do the same. Why? For
the sake of image. Before I change water into wine, I'll
just change my tunic... Sorry I cannot kiss him, he
hasn't changed, he needs a shave, he smells. What if it
was your dad lying there, dying there? I've been down
that road. A kiss, a touch is PRICELESS, never let
ignorance and image get in the way of love.
60. This is Me This is You
This is me, that's what all these blogs are. Though
I'd prefer you'd read the attachments, they are longer
and have more depth to them. I'd also hope you'd read the
500page novel The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker.
Or maybe my play Shoplife.
Though there is more to me and to you than that. I took
my watch off last night and it set me thinking. Our
possessions define us, what we own shows what kind of
person we are. My current watch is a cheap Russian one,
but it’s an automatic one. I've fallen in love with
automatic watches these past 7 years since my Chinese dad
sent one to me. I also like paintings, real ones because
there was an Italian art gallery near my house, if I look
out my window I can see it, the artist is still there but
he's moved on, now he does photos printed on canvas, his
son's face beams out from the shop window. I also like
Kebabs but I hardly eat them at all now. But I still love
fizzy pop, 100 times more than I like beer. So does this
make me a big kid? Or should I be all grown up and tell
lies and pretend to be this and pretend to be that? I
also love music, for years I saw bands in an upper room,
a very smoke filled upper room. As well as listening to
lots of music on the radio and buying CDs. Now I've moved
on, I've downloaded my CDs to my PC so while I'm writing
I can listen to my favourite groups.
So there you have it, a picture of me. If you heard this
on the radio instead of reading it here would you like
what you hear? Or the more of the picture you get do you
hate it more and more? Its like the Election 2010 the
more we hear from the different politicians the less or
more we hate them. But what about you? What would you
reveal, what would you hide.? It’s like the makeup a woman
puts on. If its done right it highlights her best
features, but if its done wrong, it can be as bad as a
child putting its mom's makeup on. Its your tone of voice
which has to connect with or sooth the listener. Just as
a mum sooths a sick child, or just as a dad scolds a
naught child. Warmth can be heard in a voice, anger and
violence can be heard in a voice, a voice can be as bad
as chalk screeching on a blackboard. That’s why songs and
music is so sweet because instantly it connects with our
souls. If I'm very lucky it takes 20seconds for my words
to reach your heart, music is so fast and so powerful,
that’s why I admire and am jealous of music makers.
This is Me and This is You, you are the reader I hope you
like what I write, I DO write so that people hear my
voice, I'm not clever enough to write long literary
passages. I hope I write as the average reader would
write if they had the time to do so. Somebody was very
kind the other day and she said she liked my stuff. So I
can say that a little encouragement does go a long way.
So when your son or daughter won't put the light out
because they have not quite finished their diary, just be
patience, just as you have been with me.
61. May time of Spring flowers and Bitter sweet memories
May is a month full of memories. Tomorrow my wife is 33,
so its happy birthday to her.
Next Friday , one week after her Birthday its the 10th
anniversary since my mum died
2 months after that ,my dad died, my brother did CPR and
saved him long enough for the doctor to come
injection straight to the heart. Dad had died , but was
revived. He was given a week to live. I sat in my sisters
house a few hundred yards from mine and we picked hymns
for dads funeral.
But he came back, read Padre Pio and Me for details
www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
Later in May just 2 years ago my wife's dad was killed in
an accident in Shanghai. I rushed home from the
hotel, my eyes full of tears. Only he agreed with me and
said I'd been right to send JJ back to China with he
message to tell her parents all my bad points. Now still
young he was dead. He died a few days before his
granddaughter's 3rd birthday, his 2nd granddaughter was
still only 7 months old.
Two deaths and 2 Birthdays that’s what May brings. Every
May brings the promise of Spring and Happiness that
Birthdays bring. But it is balanced by 2 deaths. Death of
a mum for me, and death of a dad for my wife.
Eternal balance and equilibrium .I remember my mum
standing by the fridge in her blue and white smock, that
was the last time I saw her, apart from in her coffin
when I kissed her ice cold cheek. So much warmth now it
was all gone. My sister went back to her house one day a
few weeks after the funeral. There were flowers growing
everywhere, white daisies growing everywhere. Our mum had
sneaked up to my sister’s house on the 82 bus, then she'd
planted seeds. Their scent was her memorial. Always
loving her children, her 6 children, now the flowers were
her smile goodbye.
I had put my wife on the first flight to Shanghai, I rung
the hotel and said I'd be back in 2 weeks, I was left
holding the babies, while my wife dashed off. Her dad was
not quite dead when she arrived in Shanghai, he was on
support and still warm, JJ had time to kiss him goodbye.
Then she had to arrange the funeral.
Now I wear my Chinese dad's best watch on my wrist, I
have always loved watches , now I have a good one , all
because somebody had died. May is a time of celebration
in China and the East , the Spring Festival and so forth.
For me May reminds me of my blessings, a mom who gave me
such a deep Faith, as deep as I need it, and we all know
that can be very deep indeed especially in time of need.
My dad survived because of a miracle and I am not abusing
the word. My prayers were heard and now I have 2
daughters too when then I had no clue what the future
would do.
May moves me and I hope it moves you all, none of us can
predict the future, no matter how hard we try but I know
my ma and a are looking down from up there in the sky.
62. Library Books
Over 40 years ago one Summer my brother needed to go to
the library, so he took all of us in toe. The library is
a fine old building from the Victorian age when it was
thought you could educate the working class masses. You
can google and find out more for yourself, or maybe
there is an old English history book in your own local
library. Anyways we got to the library and it was shut,
so my brother said "at least you've seen the library." It
was a hot summer's day and we had all just walked 2 miles
and it would be 2 miles back. I can remember there was a
little sweet shop right next door, but I don't remember
if we had any money for sweets on that occasion. It was
before the tower blocks were built at Spring Hill, this
was around the time that old houses were demolished and
the brand new idea of tower blocks was invented. It makes
me realise just how much the passage of time has passed.
I'm like Bill Clinton now in that speech he gave, "I have
seen more Summers than I will see." I've reached part two
of my life, the part that leads to the end. Personally I
feel my Life has not yet begun, does this make me a child
or am I in denial? I still have dreams and you all know
what they all, they are attached to my blogs. Back to the
library, we have one at the bottom of my street, so we're
getting our girls to use it. No need to walk to the
Victorian one, which still stands, and they even diverted
a new road to save the old library and now its a listed
building, and still opens occasionally. So instead we
walk to the bottom of our street, and to the right is the
library, I think it was built in the 30s. Inside I get my
girls to browse and pick up as many books as they can.
Nowadays you are allowed to borrow 12 books at a time,
when I was using a library it used to be four. I read
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes books when I
was 12 or so, I never became a detective, I was just
hiding from Mr Gallagher and his hit slipper, that
started at the age of 8 and changed my life for the
better. Corporal punishment hurts the butt but focuses
the mind. Once bitten twice shy so to speak. I ended up
as Head Boy too. And all because of not knowing my times
tables, but I was never hit again, I made sure of that,
There was the class library on the bookshelves besides me
so I practically read everything, literally everything,
mainly History. When I left Primary school I was given
The Outline Of History by H.G.Wells by the headmaster. It
sits on the bookshelf to my right, next to an enormous
Chinese/English dictionary and a bigger English
dictionary, and a little fairy next to a photo of my
girls with just enough room for a clock, I do love a nice
clock, and watch for that matter. Back to the library at
the end of the road my girls browse and my smallest one
chooses a few books with bears inside, anything remotely
like Pooh Bear always interests her. She finally settles
for 10 books and her big sister has five. Its still the
Easter holidays so I want to keep their minds occupied. A
bit of reading and then TV and cartoons, all things Roal
Dahl on tv are always a bit hit. As we leave the library
"Daddy when will your books be in the library." "Whenever
I find a publisher." is my reply full of hope. We cross
over the road so they can look at comics in the store,
then its off home, later after they have done some
reading there will be reward while we do some shopping. I
can still remember my mother teaching me to read by
looking at the Phantom cartoon in the local newspaper,
more than 45 years ago. Now my big daughter as I call her
is on Library books and she's away, my little daughter
who calls herself the cutest while her big sister is the
prettiest she just needs a bit of encouragement and then
she too will be flying. My little daughter says she wants
to be a doctor, she has a plastic stethoscope already, so
only time will tell. I tell both of them to try and
remember everything so they can in turn tell their own
kids. My big daughter wants to be a designer so if she's
a designer and her sister is a doctor then I'd be so
proud. Us, we the Parents are stepping stones for our
children to stand on, our shoulders are there so they can
stand on them, and books are food to feed their appetite.
63. If I were a Rich Man, though I'd settle for being
able to Sing Like Topol
I wanted to write a piece to celebrate Halloween,
Christopher Lee the great Dracula actor got Knighted
today, was the spurr. However this time of year brings
back a few memories to me. 1977 was a turning point in my
Life. 1986 another turning point and 1999 a 3rd turning
point. Why Autumn should be such a turning point I'll never
know. The Love my father had for all of us stands out
amongst these anniversaries. November was his Birthday as
well, his last Birthday was his 80th, we had a gathering
at my sister's house, he held his granddaughter in his
arms, he'd beaten Death and had 5.5 years of extra time.
When I bought my house his advice was "Michael, buy that
house" So I did. The dog had actually found the house,
he had cocked his leg and christened the gate post, and
it was only then that I saw the for sale sign.
Now I dream of a bigger house for my girls, so that they
can have a room to do art in, even if it is the garage.
My youngest even has dreams about us living in a big
white house, the one on the school run, and that we have
a dog and a cat. I'd just love to have a bigger house
closer to the park and the woods. That's been a dream of
mine for 30 years at least, so I suppose I have brain
washed my girls. Though I do miss the days when at the
family home we did have a cat and a dog. One of the dogs
even went to the seaside with us, even attending Mass,
and delighting a blind boy by licking him all over when
he bumped into him on the beach.
I do sing If I were a Rich Man, from time to time, and
then break down in pretend tears, saying why do I have
girls, 3 girls, if you include the wife. They laugh as I
do all the actions and become a Birmingham version of
Topol, though the Jazz improvisations are all mine.
Though I might add that my local priest does look like
Topol and sing as well too, Life does imitate Art after
all. When finally it is time for bed and I get my girls
to say their prayers, they add " and please Jesus can we
have a big white house and a cat and a dog called SubWay"
Direct and to the point, but Padre Pio used to say always
ask for the big grace, so if you all excuse me for
tonight, I just have to say my prayers before I go to
bed, I was thinking about asking for a cat, and a dog
called Subway just for the kids and maybe a big white
house for us to share with the animals. It is Autumn
after all and big things always happen in Autumn or should I say the Fall
64.Telephone Interviews
Telephone interviews are a new feature of the modern
world. With so many people chasing those jobs, it’s the
fastest way to sort the wheat from the chaff. There are
good and bad points to it. The interviewer can be sat on
the bed in a 4star hotel with a nice bottle of wine
gently breathing beside him as he asks questions over the
phone. As for the interviewee he can be in his dressing
gown with 5 days worth of stubble on his face, his hair
unwashed and uncombed, a hole in his slippers. Then
politely they talk about the skill set the interviewee
can bring to the task, how much experience he has doing
this and doing that. The interviewer can ask the
interviewee to hold the line as there is another call
coming in, and he does apologise. So the interviewee is
left on hold while the interviewer finishes his glass of
wine and pours himself another glass. The interviewee
pastes his hair down with spit even though he cannot be
seen, but while on hold he will tidy himself up a bit.
The interviewer watches the sports headlines on Sky TV
before having another sip from his glass before resuming
the interview. Questions about experience and future
career paths are posed and answered. The interviewee
feels confident and smiles at himself in the mirror. The
interviewer loosens his belt and lets his stomach out.
The interview is concluded.
Mr Unkempt gets through to the next round. This time he
has to SSS which means exactly what it says, SSS. He
spends ages in the bathroom , more than his sisters did
when he used to live at home. He wears his best shiny
black shoes, only for the laces to snap, so then he has
to hunt around to find a lace that matches his shoes.
Only he cannot, so he steals a navy one from a different
pair of shoes. He looks in the mirror to see if its
noticeable, and it is, so he loosens his belt, so his
trousers hang lower so that they hide his shoes, only
problem is that with his fat belly his trousers might
fall off completely. That would certainly make an
impression at the interview. If he was applying for a
farce actor’s position then it would be great, Brian Rix
would be impressed. The interviewer is a power dresser,
his 1000pound suit compared to the 49.99 one worn by the
interviewee. And yes the laces are noticed, immediately.
Positive body language v negative body language, neutral
body language. Arms folded, arms open, open legs with
hands on top of knees. Licking of lips, eyes skyward,
eyes averted, eyes straight and looking into the soul.
The usual interview so to speak. Then the waiting for a
letter in the post, or an email for fail.
Happy Interviews everybody.
65. Let them eat cake or how the wife tried to poison me
My wife loves cake. She always brings home some really
nice cake and if I'm lucky I get the crumbs, and I mean
crumbs. But we end up laughing so that's fine, the kids
love cake too. So I'll see the wrapper and be told that
it was the kids fault and there was none left. I'm too
big already I'm told, so I get none. You can get some
really nice cake in Sainsbury's or you can get some cake
and coffee in Druckers ‘cafe in the city centre by House
of Fraser. My mum used to buy glazed ring donuts when I
was a child, somehow I always ended up with 2 or
sometimes 3. That's a long time ago now. As for the wife
and her cake, she loves eating it and there is Chinese
cake which is different to western cake. So the wife
decided to make cake and I was the crash test dummy so to
speak. The first attempt was ok but the filling was not
totally baked. I still ate it anyway. The crust was a
little burnt too, but didn't King Alfred burn the cakes
too, so she is in very good company. Next she contacted
the good and the great in the Chinese community, even the
Dr wife of the Dr who had given me acupuncture last week.
No it wasn't a medical problem, just what was the
methodology for making the best cakes. Chinese people are
totally focused on anything they do, whether its science,
industry, building Shanghai, or as I've discovered making
cakes. There is good news though, the one think Chinese
people are bad at, is, drinking beer. They fall over
after just a few pints. So my wife armed with fresh
insight and the correct gas setting for the oven tried
again. The second attempt was even better, I was scolded
for eating all her hard work. She even left a trail of
flour dust all over the computer after she'd checked a
Chines site which had a cookery section. Today she was
practicing making beef, so obviously I had to try it, and
it was very good. The 3rd attempt at baking was also
today. And it was perfection, her Chemist training no
doubt had helped, even if she joked she was a Chemist and
she could kill me if she wanted. The cakes were good and
I reluctantly had to leave some for the kids for when
they got home from school. Tomorrow another lot of baking
will happen .I will pretend to be a porcupine as I have
more acupuncture while downstairs my wife will be dressed
in her bright red cook's bib with the Korean writing on
as she cooks. Masterchef in our house.
66. Me and my Radio
I remember my first radio, it was a small blue plastic
tranny. I can remember when we heard the news on it that
RFK had been assassinated. I remember the white plastic
family tranny we had. I remember the old Bush radio with
the saucer dial, that is now called retro. Having that
radio given to us by Frank Brown a lodger of ours changed
my life. We used to listed to the world tonight with
Douglas Stewart reporting followed by the book at bed
time. I can remember listening to The Ghost and Mrs Muir,
only I fell asleep so my brother had to tell me what
happened. I always had a radio beside me, it was my
company when me brother left home, company while I did my
homework and studied for my O Levels. Listen to Radio 4
constantly for 20 years. Perhaps hearing 3 plays a week
for all those years, enjoying words, enjoying knowledge
and news. When I heard about DAB I just had to have
one, though they do eat batteries big time. I even bought
an adapter so I can hear DAB through my HiFi. Real radio
was my favourite until it disappeared, stations with
Music and less prattle and talking over songs were my joy
of DAB. I even bought a personal DAB radio as a Birthday
present to myself 5 years ago. My Ferguson is still going
strong, though my daughter has stolen it these Easter
holidays and wants one of her own, even though she has a
Blick DAB in her bedroom. Yes I am in love with radio,
and if anybody wants to give me their DABs because their
love affair is over then just send them along. AND if
there are any fancy Pure personal dabs to be had I'd love
them too, that way all my family could have one and I
wouldn't have to hide my personal Dabs from my two girls.
Radio can change a life and radio really is company, in
some ways it has been a best friend to me, 40 years a
friend and I hope 40 more years of friendship, though I'd
rather hear my own plays on the radio. I can spot a radio
4 play at 100 yards now........
67. How do you blog?
How do YOU blog? And perhaps more importantly, Why do
you blog? I was thinking about my next blog here when I
thought instead of writing about today's events I write
about how I get to write about today's and any day's
events. Me, I've started writing back in 1987, I kind of
stumbled into it like I've done most things in my life.
It did take my 1 year to learn, learn the hard way to
write. I hope that I'm a better writer because of this.
Little stories gave way into an attempt to write a book.
Sat in front of the gas fire, on an old barn chair with
the back cut off I perched a typewriter on a stool and
away I went. I ended up with a 235 page novel which I
then called "A Nation Of Shopkeepers", which was
Napoleon's contemptuous phrase for the English. Until
Wellington cut him down to size. A few years later I
decided I wanted more that just one typescript of my
"masterpiece" so I bought an Atari 520 and started
Copy typing it all out, so then I'd have it on a computer
and I could make multiple copies. I should add that the
novel doubled in size and I renamed it The Butcher The
Baker and The Undertaker, I still have those multiple
copies scattered around my house, just in case of fire or
theft. 10 years ago when I met my Shanghai rose we had to
invest in a proper computer and Internet so my wife could
talk to her mum in Shanghai. As for me it was a chance to
have a website so that my babies were safe in cyberspace.
It also gave me a chance to blog. Now IF you compare one
of my essays, attached to these blogs, then you can see
there is a difference in style. I hope my blogs read as
if its a bedtime story, your nan or grandpa is sitting in
the chair beside you and he's recounting a funny story
that makes you feel secure and happy and lets you drift
off to sleep. For me its writing practice, if you don't
practice then you forget how to do it. It’s also a short
form of writing that takes no more than an hour or much
less, but it gives you a chance to "preach" to the rest
of the world. You can also make friends. I used to
practice my writing on positive thoughts.com and there
were lots of nice folks there, one post got 800 views.
The forum has now closed that's why I annoy people on
this site instead. But back to my theme, why do we all
blog, well its so we can all say "hey listen to me " ,
"I'm just as good as you", ultimately we have our own
tv/radio station via our blogs. Or perhaps I should say
Newspaper, it’s a chance to share, to boast, to grow
together even, to laugh together too. I must say there
are some good jokes that do the rounds and I do like
them, not to forget the poems and thoughts that are
shared. I was once in a bar in County Kerry and the pub
was owned by an Irish writer, his book The Field was
made into a film with Richard Harris. His niece told me
that he wrote because it was "in him". What does that
mean? I think I understand because the stories that are
"in me" just have to come out. Even if you stop writing
and its only as you are picking up litter around the
4star hotel car park that that ideas come back to you,
then you can begin to understand what "in me" means. Just
as musicians have the music in them, so words are in me
and in you all as you blog here and now on this Multiply
site. Do you wait for all the story to be ready in your
head or do you just start with an idea and wait for the
Muse to take you where it wants to go. I enjoy going with
the flow, it’s like closing your eyes when you are on a
long journey and when you open your eyes you have arrived
at some place totally different, like crossing a border
in the night. While I blog my big daughter sometimes
sneaks downstairs so she can watch and read as I write
something. Or when I finish a new blog I get her to have
a read to see if it makes her laugh or whatever. All I
can say is that to blog is to share, folks may never
bother to open an attachment but at least for the course
of the blog I have an audience, even if it could only be
an audience of one, and that's my daughter.
68. Various Poems for you all
Some Poetry for you all. Normally I write comedy
Let There Be Light ©
By Michael Casey
Let my tears be my words
Let the candle light be my eyes
Let the flowers in bloom be my lips
Let their scent be my blood
Let the wind be my breath
Let clouds be my mood
Let children’s laughter be my hope
Let widows’ sighs be my conscience
Let a stranger’s prayers be my delight
Let the bees be my wisdom
Let the trees be my strength
Let my patience reach to the stars
Let me be always remembered in your prayers
This next poem is from my novel The Butcher The Baker and
The Undertaker which is a comedy/drama
Percy is a Poet who happens to be an Undertaker. He has a
fight with a builder and the builder runs for Parliament
and wins because Percy takes him on a tour of the rest
homes. Now read a poem from Percy
The Dead and The Living (c)
by
Michael Casey
I first saw a deceased when I was nine years old ,my father said not
to worry as the dead are the same as the living , only the laughter
has left them , the sparkle has gone from their eyes , the worry has
been lifted from their shoulders , and their voice has vanished to
eternity .
In paradise the sparkle will return for it is the twinkle of the
stars , the laughter will return too for it is the morning breeze and
the turning tides are their sides shaking with laughter .
I treat the deceased with the same courtesy as I give to the living ,
though I find the deceased are always more polite . My father also
had a few words to say about the living .
He said that the living are only the caretakers of the soul , yet
they think their existence is everything , that they know everything
because they experience many things with their senses .
What the living don't acknowledge is that their time is short and
when I lay their bodies to rest then their souls continue without
them , without their strong , without their weak , without their
beautiful or even ugly temporary form , to where I cannot say , only
that it is a better place .
Percy the undertaker placed the lid on the coffin ,the soul was free
THE BEGINNING
Michael G Casey email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com
This third poem is a Love poem
You're Never Alone When You Are in Love ©
By
Michael Casey
Love is being together , Love is a smile , a Look , A Touch
Or Just A Sigh , Not really knowing why you chose one another .
Yet Together Till You Die
Love is a Kiss soft and gentle on the cheek which warms your
heart and makes you glad you chose one another .
A Kiss can lead to more but I'll leave Passion locked Safely
behind a bedroom door
Passion spent you'll not give up each not even for Lent .
You'll just lie in warm embrace and remember you forgot to say
grace .
Whispers and Promises are made , plans for the future and if
she put her hair this way , Do you think it would suit her ?
Then giggles and more embraces , Till the Night is over and with
a dig in the ribs you make him move over .
Then your oneness complete , you have to put up with his cold
feet !
But when you are apart your hearts are still one , Thought half is
absent you are still one .
His socks under the bed , and after what you said .
His "toys" scattered about , and the clout you'll give when he
returns and the warmth of your body he yearns .
His cold feet to chill you after he thrills you , are absent yet the
thought makes you smile , at least you have the comfort for a while.
His grins and leers , which makes you smile at least you'll have
peace for a while .
But his heart is still with you , the love is always there - as
bright as your fair hair .
Close your eyes and he is still there , Remember the embrace as he
played his fingers across your face .
Let your dreams go and remember the whispers in your ear , warm
kisses on your shoulder before he gets bolder . The warmth of love
that soars through your blood .
Dream long , Dream deep , your Man toils while you sleep , though
you are apart you are still together whatever the weather , for you
are never apart for he is locked in your heart .
Though sometimes he can be trying , there's Never any need of crying
for your love is Undying.
Always remember he fills your heart even when you are apart
End
That's all the poems I can share at the moment.
69.
Crawling Like a Worm in The Dirt, humbled by a photo
copier.
by Michael Casey
This is one piece from essay/blog postings, I type fast
so excuse any mistakes.
Well this is my 100th post, I had hoped I could think up
something nice or even spectacular. This is what I've
come up with. I'm laughing now as I type. Yesterday
5minutes after I started work I bent down to fill up the
copiers. I filled one, then another, then I did a third.
I then screamed, I had straightened up too fast and had
ricked/strained my back on the right hand side. So these
past 27hours have been a lesson in pain and humility. I
felt such a fool at work, the girls I work were both
sympathetic and funny. Somebody came by for some coloured
paper , I bent down to look under our shelf and I was
racked with pain, one girl told me to crawl away out of
the way so that she could find it instead. I hobbled
away, out of the way. The rest of day I moved about like
an 80 year old, rather like my own dad. I hoped that on
my lunch break while I sat for 30mins in the cathedral my
back would be restored. We stand all day in our print as
some of you may remember me mention. Prayer and rest for
30mins no doubt aided my soul but not my back. I went
back to work and hobbled about for a couple of hours.
Then I decided I really had to go home and rest.
Getting home I got off the bus and had to walk only
300yards, a crippled Charlie Chaplin kind of walk, though
I look more like Oliver Hardy. I was home 2 hours earlier
than normal so the family were surprised.
I told them I was fired as a joke. Then I sat down on an
old chair and then I could hardly move. Standing up again
was an impossibility. Last Friday we had a drama with my
youngest, this Friday, Friday 13th it was my turn. My
girls all laughed at me, just as I would laugh at them if
the tables were reversed. Night came and knew I could
never climb the stairs to bed, but at least our bathroom
was downstairs. So I tumbled onto our sofa and got ready
to spend the night there. Only we have a glass coffee
table in front of it and I was afraid of falling off onto
it. So at 1am I staggered up the stairs like a drunk with
locked joints, then I rolled onto my bed, screaming as I
did so. I did sleep, but in the morning I had to slither
out like a snake sliding out of bed on my belly. Some
positions were possible and some were not. My wife
laughed till she cried my youngsters did too, as for me,
I laughed and cursed and laughed again. My wife went to
see the pharmacy man for advice and a spray for me. The
pharmacist laughed too, he's an old friend. When she got
back I was all sprayed up, the old spray and the newly
bought one drenching me and my room with the stench of a
bad back. I slithered in and out of bed, crawling around
as I couldn't stand up straight. As for getting down
stairs that would be an impossibility. My wife went
shopping, stopping first to steal my debit card, laughing
she left me in my bed of pain. When she returned she gave
me yoghurt and orange juice. Later I just had to go
downstairs, but I couldn't walk. I slithered off bed like
snake, then made it to my hands and knees, then an
inspired idea. I bounced down the stairs one step at a
time, on my butt , one step at a time. Then I crawled
across our living room and pulled myself up onto a chair.
I did notice that we needed a new carpet after 20years
our carpet does need replacing. I then rewarded myself by
stealing my wife's pork she'd just made.
Later after some movements like belly dancer of 120 years
old, I managed to straighten up. I do walk as if I have a
full diaper though. I made it too my big chair in front
of my computer. And that’ s how I got to write this 100th
post.
The moral of all this? Well I am a very bad patient.
Health is the most important thing in our lives. I
rejoice that my girls have a good sense of humour, even
if I am the butt of it all. Last year when I had food
poisoning they had plenty to laugh about then. And I do
laugh at that memory. We are all worms crawling in the
dirt. It is God's love that lifts us up, as does our
family life. Sometimes it is only though pain and
adversity that we learn such truths, sometimes we learn
mundane things, but they too have meaning for us, even if
it’s just the fact that we need a new living room carpet.
70.The trouble with Technology ©
By
Michael Casey
The trouble with technology is that we all use it , now
if we just left it all alone then we all have no problems
. Simple really but we all just can't leave it alone ,
we all just have you use it . In the beginning if we
wanted water we'd fetch the bucket and drop it down a
well . My mother was born just 30feet from the sea , but
they were fortunate because they had their own well , so
they went outside and dropped the bucket down the well
and then they had water . Then technology comes along and
we just turn a tap and we have clean water instantly . We
have hot water too , at the turn of a tap . In one
generation so many changes . However technology then
works against us , because we assume it will always work
and that there will be no problems
We don't even know where the stopcock is , so our homes
flood and then we discover we are not covered by our
insurance .
My mother grew up with an oil lamp hanging above , no
luxury of gas lamps for her , as for electricity , that
was just a dream . Nowadays how could any society manage
without electricity , its impossible to believe life
without electricity . No tv , no radio , no freezers , no
street lighting , no traffic lights, the list goes on and
on . As for indoor plumbing , the luxury of a hot bath ,
the WC in the home . My mother grew up with no indoor
plumbing , if you needed the bathroom as the American's
say , then you'd leave the house and pick your spot in a
field with the cows gazing on , as for toilet paper you
had a blade of grass to wipe your %^** . As for me we did
not have such hardships , we had an outside WC , which we
did not have to share with any other family , just 8
Caseys sharing our outside bog/toilet . There was a yard
light to illuminate the way and a light in the toilet too
. Which was sheer luxury compared to my mum's and my
dad's childhoods . My dad would always come home and
immediately switch off the yard light because it was
wasting electricity . Then a shout would go up "Put the
light on" , and my dad would always say "I didn't know" .
Then there was the indignity of running out of paper . My
brother Tony had a very good sense of humour so it was
always the case that I'd shout from the yard "More Bog
Roll" which is the English slang for toilet paper . Tony
was kind so he'd always bring out a fresh supply of paper
, only he liked to tease so he'd push one sheet , just
one sheet of paper under the door and say that's all
there was in the house , and that mom said I'd have to
use my finger . Then he'd go away laughing . He always
left a full roll of paper on the doorstep , much to my
relief .
Simple technology , we all take for granted , water and
electricity . What does all this technology do for us ?
It gives us independent comfortable lives , we have clean
water , hot water , light and warmth . Then with the
miracle of TV we can all watch the world go by , from the
comfort of our homes , or the local bar whichever is our
true home . We are now a global village as has often been
said , but then we become antisocial as its easier to
watch tv than to interact with real people , we'd rather
watch fiction on tv than have a real life . But with
technology we can send an email to our neighbour across
the road , with pictures and video , rather than leave
our castle homes , rather than going over for a coffee
and a bar of chocolate .That's one view the optimistic
view says that we truly can break down barriers by using
the miracle of email to keep us connected though we are
thousands of miles apart . I have to hold my hand up and
admit that I am an email Junky , I did send up to 5
emails a day to my friend in another part of the office ,
because we were both having fun . Then when I fell in
love with my one true love it was ONLY because of the
miracle of email that our love survived .I sent my
girlfriend long long emails everyday for 6 months . She
was in Shanghai while I was in Birmingham . My heart was
breaking with love and hope until finally she came back
to me . I'd come home from work at 3am and hit the
keyboard , with luck because of the time difference we'd
actually be live and talking almost in real time .You
cannot imagine how heart rending it was to come home to
an email , to get up in the afternoon and read an email
before going on night shift .I think whoever invented
email should be made a saint, without email our love
would not have lasted . An exchange of letters takes 14
days from Birmingham to Shanghai , so thank God for email
and God himself KNOWS just how much I mean that ,
Sainthood is not high enough reward for the inventor of
email .Is it Saint Bill Gates ? The telephone is
fantastic , but too expensive , I know my phone bill
reached 4 figures , but an email can be read over and
over again , and even printed off , so it is a letter.
So I confess email is the most important leap in
technology of the 20th Century , as far as I am concerned
.
The next stage in the technology story are mobile phones
that send/receive video and tv , so we are literally
wired up where ever we are in the world science fiction
becoming science fact . We all used empty match boxes to
pretend we were Captain Kirk communicating to the
Enterprise but now they are here for real . If you have
been in a theatre church, hospital and these things bleep
you have to decide for yourself are they useful or just a
real pain in the *&^% . On balance they are good , but
people have to be a lot more considerate , nobody else
wants to hear their conversations if they are in church
or at the theatre or even cinema . I remember a
conversation I had at dinner on Xmas Eve just gone , the
guy sat next to me happen to design mobile phones , he
was very very good at his job , but I did warn caution
about saturation point being reached . Then today 4months
on , I am proved right , the mobile giants are in trouble
, why , because of saturation point now being reached .
I don't want to end on low note , so I'll tell another
anecdote , we all remember when we had our first colour
tv , how wonderful it was and how we all marvel and the
colours . The BBC started showing snooker because of the
colours , and now tv without snooker would be
unimaginable . Then remote control came in , so we'd try
different positions and even outside the house and
through the glass into the room where the tv was .
Technology makes us all like children , its supposed to
be a triumph of engineering and technology but really its
our greatest toy , and our greatest joy . On Saturday my
dad will come out of the old peoples home to spend the
day with me and my Chinese wife in our home . I'll be
able to show him the internet and I hope I can bring
tears of joy to his eyes as I show him County Kerry on
the computer monitor . Sitting in my living room in
Birmingham he can read the Irish newspapers and see his
homeland where he started as a blacksmith in the 1930s .
This is how we should be using technology
71. My Wife The House Painter ©
By Michael Casey
As I speak my wife is painting the bathroom. Its 9:45pm
and the kids are all tucked up in bed. So she can paint
away to her heart’s content. She is a much better painter
than me, if any of you have trawled to the bottom of my
site you will have read Michael’s Bathroom a tale of
paint and disaster from 11 years ago, from before I met
my Shanghai wife. That’s her 10years ago on my profile
photos. Right now she’s wearing her pink and red
strawberry pattern pyjamas while she paints. She is very
good, she can even do intricate calligraphy, I think its
because she’s good at that so she’s good with a paint
brush in her hands. Earlier I had to test our 5 year old
ready for her spelling test in the morning. She got 10/10
last week so we want her to continued. I got her to write
the spellings out while I said them for her, you have to
try and sound out all the letters, and remember the
“baby” pronunciations too. She got lunch wrong she spelt
it “luch” so I got her to write it out ten times
correctly, only she wrote it out ten times incorrectly,
so I encouraged her again and she wrote it out 10 times
again, but this time correctly. We never had any of this
40 years ago, education has progressed in leaps and
bounds. My other daughter had homework and a crossword
too, I had to explain what crosswords were all about, and
not arguing, but words that crossed and fitted into each
other like Jigsaws. She also had some maths, she was on a
high because she was the best in her class that day. The
teacher made her a bracelet out of stickers as a reward.
But my big daughter has been “cheating”, while she was in
Shanghai her grannie, Ma, had given her lots of homework
every day. Ma was the accountant for the bus company you
see, when I 1st visited Shanghai in 2000 I had been in
her office and there is a photo of me trying to safe
crack her safe, the bus company safe. My daughter has in
fact got a photo of Ma and my wife with the safe behind
them on her bedside table. Ma’s brother a former
journalist also gave my daughter homework while she was
visiting his house for a few days. So it was that
combination of Chinese discipline and love, that had
helped her so much. Now she is in bed asleep, the smell
of paint is slowly drifting towards me though 2 doors are
firmly closed, but in the morning I will have a new
bathroom, so much better compared to when I did it. Being
married these past few years has given me an appreciation
of the finer things in life, and one of them is to know
when to “allow” my wife to dabble with a paintbrush. We
just have to make sure the girls don’t touch anything in
the morning. I should say that one thing I go get my
girls to do every night is to say their prayers. At the
moment there is a little girl of about their age who has
just been diagnosed with cancer, so I ask my girls to
pray for her. They say that a sinner’s prayers are golden
, a child’s prayers are golden too, so if any of you who
are reading this can spare some time then DO pray for
that child. I remember back in 1998 I was in Paris and I
stumbled on a funeral and they were saying that the
deceased was a traveller and there I was a traveller at
his funeral, so of course I prayed for him. So now I ask
the same of you, please pray for this child.
Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow I may have a new job,
I’ve been redundant 8 weeks tomorrow. I could be getting
a new job with a different Law Firm. All I need is a new
lick of paint and then I’ll be ready for the rest of my
life. It would be a good birthday present too, that’s all
I have to say tonight, except buy some paint brushes for
the Love in your life.
72. From Shanghai to Birmingham
My girls are home at last after 8 weeks in Shanghai, so
I'm no longer Home Alone. I'm not like the kid in the
film, I'm a grown up, or so I'm told. My 2 small
daughters plus the wife were in Shanghai visiting the
Mother-in-Law, or Ma as we all call her. My smallest
shed a few tears as she missed me so much. My big daughter
as I call the other one discovered the joys of IM, so she
could send me messages. We did use the camera as well,
and the voice aspect too. One daughter spoke to me while
the other sent cartoons and silly things via IM, I got my
big daughter to practice "the quick brown fox jumped over
the lazy blue dog" as an exercise. I can remember my
brother doing that 30years ago or more when he taught
himself typing and Pitman shorthand.
My parents could never dream of such modern technology,
text, voice, and full voice and camera. If you saw a
postman once in a blue moon, now that was something
special, though that was back in 1920s/30s Country Kerry.
Now the generations have moved on, technology is king. My
kids went to the zoo and saw not 1 but 3 pandas and one
was a baby panda. Something big to boast about when they
return to primary school in a few days time. They also
went to the new beach by Ma's house. There wasn't one
there 10years ago when I first visited, so they decided
to build one and charge people 30RMB each to use it. It
looked nice on the photos they emailed me, however as its
that part of the world you do have to be careful, because
there are small sharks around. A great experience for
such small children, they have come home speaking even
more Shanghai dialect. They moved around too and spent
time at various houses belonging to uncles and aunties.
The Film uncle, the USA uncle, the Army uncle, the Taxi
uncle, I cannot pronounce the names so we have shorthand
to explain who is who. I have a Chinese name, Panzi, it
means FAT FAT BOY, because I'm so big compared to the
Chinese side of the family. They also saw Google cousin,
because she and her husband work for Google. They did go
to the Irish pub and send me a photo showing them
enjoying themselves, I think that should be classed as
torture, there I was Home Alone while they were in the
Irish Pub in Shanghai, it’s near the US Embassy if ever
you are over there. They came home via Frankfurt, and 2
bags got lost because of equipment failure, but luckily
the bags appeared, along with my wife/kids' treasure,
shoes, a bag of shoes. I got a silk duvet, and that is a
great great treasure, and what was the final treasure
brought all the way from Shanghai, a big wok.
p.s. The house is so noisy again after 8 weeks of
silence!
73. What makes me smile
We all have different views on what is funny. Americans
seem to like custard pie humour, where the joke is
telegraphed. Pie face pie face, custard pie in face. Say
like Laurel and Hardy. Over here in England it’s a bit
different. I can remember Monty Python starting on TV, I
was in 1st or 2nd year of Grammar school. We had to
explain to our French teacher what was all this "woody"
business, Monty who? was his reply. Different styles of
humour work in different different places. As you all
know a baby can hear while in the womb. So why does our
youngest daughter have such a good sense of humour. Was
it because of us her parents, her West meets East in her
blood. you know what we think, while my wife was visiting
she was 7/8 months pregnant, so the unborn baby heard her
Chinese granddad making jokes and making everybody laugh.
So that at an early age she is a mimic and makes us
laugh, michaelgracycasey she calls me, putting on a deep
voice and reciting what my prayer is, let my comedy book
be published and can we have a bigger house, please god.
And pumping up her shoulders too. This makes us laugh and
is a natural thing, a 5 year old cannot be taught this.
My own dad used to say "your ear is very near me", which
was an implied threat, so it told us to behave. Me and my
sister remember this and laugh, a 40year old laugh, I
have told my own kids this and the smallest says it back
to me in her deep voice. So it will pass down the
generations, a remembrance, a prayer almost.
I was a concierge in a 4star deluxe hotel for 3years,
this job gave me plenty of time to watch and learn from
people. It also gave me a chance to practice my stand up
while dealing with people. In the main I could make most
people smile. It is a different art compared to writing
or straight presenting, if you can do one it doesn't mean
you can do the other. But if you smile at people they do
tend to smile back, so if you start with a smile then you
cannot go far wrong.
74. Down my Street turn left to reach the world
They say that 100 years ago a man knew 2 blocks North, 2
blocks South, 2 blocks East and 2 blocks West. Or back in
Ireland as far as the market and back to the farm. No
doubt the same in England. World War One changed
everything, their innocence was taken away from them, no
virgin on a wedding night. But rape as the guns fired
over no man’s land. Men came home with tales of woe, tales
of Paris and drinking by the Seine. Tales of Mud and
Death, they never spoke of because it was too much of a
torment.
The small world of the village was swept away. Buses came
along and linked village to town, the railway too. A
small world was changed into a bigger world. Radio was
invented, the wireless as it was called. The world could
reach into every nook and cranny of the isolated
village. Was it the work of the Devil, this radio.
Newspapers too, not to mention the fact that more people
could read. Isolation did not exist any more. Then came
the Cinema, the Flicks as it was called because the films
flickered. Everybody's world was changed, everybody had a
bigger and bigger world view. It was like a walled garden
that had its walls removed. No longer a cosy world, but
the winds of change, the winds of communication. The
walls came tumbling down, the walls came tumbling down.
You would need to be a hermit, or a monk hidden away on
top of a mountain on an island that was lost at sea, then
and only then could you have a sheltered existence. TV
came along, black and white then colour. Then cable and
satellite and then HD. Not to mention computers and
Internet, perhaps living on the dark side of the moon is
the only place to be, IF you want solitude. For my street
is the world, and all its news.
75. The Invisible Diet
I'm big, my boss calls me "the big man". Some may say
"fat", I'll stick with big. I am 3stones heavier than I
look which I suppose is good. 3 stones is18 to 20 kilos,
that in itself is the weight of a growing child, or one
suitcase ready for international travel.
My fat is not wobbly fat, so I don't look like a jelly,
its tight fitting fat. Makes me sound so glamorous, you
can see my photo on this site so you can be the judge.
Just big, or big boned as some fat people say. Me, I'm
just big, so let's leave it at that, you don't want me to
cry do you. I did have a compliment from my Chinese
masseuse, she told my wife that all my skin was tight,
so there you have it from a Phd a Chinese doctor.
Now what if I could share with you knowledge which will
make you all lose 1/2 a stone, that's 7lbs is you are an
American or 6 tubs of margarine if you are metric.
So how do you lose weight? You just don't try, and then
as if by magic you lose weight. A Muslim friend at work
SR, explained Ramadan to me. I said for Lent I'd just
give up chocolate or something. Very easy compared to
Muslim fasting. That was when I was a kid, now old age
and so on meant...
So I agreed to give up Chocomilk from the company drinks
machine. The drinks were free and we did work in a very
hot print room. So I gave up my favourite drink for Lent.
I still carried on drinking, but only the squash, not the
nice and calorie laden Chocomilk. After a few days I did
not miss my favourite drink, and the weight just fell
off. Though another friend was quick to mention that M&S
had just closed its sandwich shop near the office, so I
was having smaller and not as nice sandwiches. That he
thought may be the real reason why my trousers were
looser, whatever the reason, once my friend had come back
from holiday with a new bride, he saw the difference.
Mainly with my thinner face.
So what is the moral of the story? If I can lose 1/2 a
stone then so can anybody else, I did not look at any
magazines or starve myself as girls do. It was the lazy
man's diet and it worked. So here I am still Big but
happier looking more and more like George Clooney. Look at
my photo and judge for yourself, more photos can be
googled.
76. Food For Thought
Think AS You Watch TV (c)
By Michael Casey
As we sit in our armchairs watching the news , do we care
what is going on over there , in some place hot , too hot
to think about , or too cold to bear , ice and snow
everywhere . Are we just waiting for the sports report ,
are we waiting to see was the battle hard or a walkover ,
did our favourite player score a home run , or 10
touchdowns , were the crowd , the audience behind him ,
did we win 100dollars from the bet we had on the side .
In the interviews after the war was won , were we just
watching to see the design on the teams shirt , is that a
new logo , is that the same logo spruced up . Or is it a
new logo entirely , does it make any difference in how
the team played , or just another million dollars in the
owners pocket , paid by us the audience , the fans , just
so we can all look so identical . The reporters are
screaming loudly , half excited and half in fear , they
want to watch , they want to cover their eyes , but they
are there so they must report . Are they in some arid
desert , or in some cold cold place , pain and fear and
hope etched on their face , are they in some war zone ,
or at the stadium , if all we heard were just their words
, could we tell the difference , do we care , so long as
we can switch it all off with our remote control .
********
Just a little food for thought , you can read my Betting
On Disaster
77. Education always reach for the Stars
Where I was born and grew up, is only 2miles or so from
where I live now. I was born in the shadow of a brewery
and ended up working for a Market Research company doing
research into alcohol sales and I was a shandy drinker.
Do you want a girlie I was asked when we went to the pub,
sadly the barman died early, so you can pray for him.My
father, my dad was a blacksmith and my mum was a farm
girl. Both from County Kerry, the best county, just you
ask any Irishman. My dad was apprenticed to a Blacksmith
in Rathmore, in 1995 we went back an rediscovered the
very place next to a new road. The blacksmiths had
turned into a hairdressers and the store had been
demolished. My dad always spoke fondly of the blacksmith.
That blacksmith never had any children, but my dad was
treated as family. Go out woman to the henhouse and see
has the hen laid. This would be about 1935/6.It there
were 3 eggs then they all had one. If 2 the blacksmith
did without , and if only 1 egg was laid my dad got it.
This is how "family" should be. In 1944 my dad came to
England and the steelworks in Brasshouse Lane. For 40
years he endured the heat, 400degrees beside the
furnace. You could lose 1/2 a stone a day in sweat. My
dad often did 12hour shifts and sometimes 16. So coming
from that he always wanted his children to do better,
EDUCATION was the key and it still is. I remember asking
him what subjects I should do when we did the 3rd year
split. His answer was I don't know, but do what you like
but do your best. Now perhaps that should be written on
every blackboard throughout the country. My dad had a
large family and he loved and encouraged us. So imagine
his pride when in 1968/9 one son went to the best
university in the land. Then a few years later another
son went to the opposition best university in the land.
Today do kids listen to ignorant teachers, back at our
grammar school we were encouraged. And mum always said
you are as good as anybody. Me I'm the failure I'm just a
Wordsmith.
78. My stories, my babies
My site, this site disappeared for a few days, a few
thoughts passed through my mind. Have I lost my "babies"
my "work" my "stuff". For anybody that writes, be it me
who writes simply hoping for a bigger audience once I'm
discovered, or say for the Google Librarian in charge of
millions of books. Worthy books and all kinds of
everything, the one word passes through your mind "OH
HOTDOGS" as the astronauts used to say. However I used to
be a computer operator back in 78, yes 1978, I was still
just a teenager then. And the "one thing" as Glen Beck
is fond of saying, the "one thing" I learnt was NEVER
NEVER NEVER trust a computer, always but always have lots
of backup. We were a very small outfit to start with but
then we taken over. And in the beginning we flew by the
seat of our pants as early pilots used to. So at work we
kept 3 generations of backup, first of Magnetic tape then
many years later on super8 video then data storage tape.
AT home over 20 years ago when I first started to write
I had not one but 2 photocopies of my book. Then when I
decided that a typewriter was old fashioned I moved to an
Atari 520 which a few years later I updated to an Atari
1040, my friends were into games big time so that was
their recommendation. I only needed a word processor but
I took their advice anyway. It was very expensive
300pounds or 480dollars at today’s exchange rate, and that
was nearly 20years ago. Yes a fool and his money are soon
parted. Our lust for writing soon means money departing.
Now I had my own computer then, so did I have 3
generations of security. NO, I had TEN. My stories, my
babies were the most important thing in the world to me,
so I always too 10 copies on floppy disc and scattered
them all over my house. When I finally finished my book
The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker I even hid one
in the family home. So if there was theft or fire I'd
still have my back up. I'd leant from the antics at work,
always but always have back up. Moving onto the Internet
age, I hide/store/conceal/save whichever is the correct
word, my writing is in Cyberspace so that it should
survive anything as its on servers on the 4 corners of
the globe. Which book would you chose to save in
Cyberspace. On Desert Island Discs the Radio4 show on the
BBC they ask that question in a manner of speaking. The
Bible and Shakespeare is given to you and then you can
chose a book. Would I be conceited and chose me own book.
No, yes really, no, because you know your own book so
well and you can create more windmills in your mind so
easily as more pieces of the jigsaw appear in your mind
that nobody would chose their own book, well perhaps some
Hollywood types. So what would I chose. Probably a
History book, I once wanted to be a History teacher, and
my own History teacher did recommend Don Camillo to me, a
comic priest tale from Italy. In some ways I hope my
writing is like Don Camillo, a mythical place with comic,
English meaning of comic, goings on, If finally somebody
says my stuff is comic. Then then I have finally made
myself understood
That’s all Folks as Bugs Bunny used to say or was it OH
CARROTS
79.Fat Man's exercise and food shopping
Well I start my new life today. I'm redundant and looking
for a new job, so I have my plan to follow. I will walk
to the top of Bearwood every day, it 10mins there and 10
mins back, so it might be 2k altogether, or 1.25miles on
the way I browse in the shops but spend nothing as I have
to watch the pennies until I get a new job. On the way
back I do my shopping. I look for bargains, such as gamon
instead of sliced bacon, fresh orange juice at half
price, yogurt as a treat and at the lower original
price. Cereals too because they are quick first thing in
the morning. Not forgetting green bananas that will ripen
for when I'm ready to eat them. Cheap 1/2 price pizza too
and 1/2 price cheese that I can slice and add to the
pizza to make them nicer. Milk is always good so 3litres
of that as well and some sweet corn for good measure. All
in all my week's shopping. I used to work for ACNielsen a
long time ago and they would put me in the opportunist
shopper bracket, no brand loyalty just a vulture so to
speak Once home some 1/2 price coffee from when I stocked
up before then its on to the Internet to trawl through
the job websites. Staying positive is the name of the
game. Apply for nice jobs that will speak to my heart, as
well as apply for jobs that will just feed me. Now at my
age, I'm 20 in my head, but my birth certificate says
otherwise, I'd like somewhere where I can stay till I can
retire, hopefully with a lottery win in 3hours time, but
failing that till regular retirement age. However with
politicians being so bad as they are, and the economy
too, I imagine I'll be 92 before I can retire, which
leaves only 8 years to have fun. I always said I'd like
to live till I was 100.So where will I end up? God alone
knows, and he doesn't talk to me anymore, perhaps I
should listen more and then I'll hear his voice. Though I
can say that when you do listen you can come up with
inspired poetry which some may say comes from God. You
can find several such pieces scattered all over this
site, or in my 2nd book Essays and Plays.
That's all for today, I hope it doesn't pour tomorrow
because whatever the weather I must do my walk, just to
blow away the cobwebs and who knows I may come up with a
new poem I can share on this blog. I find IF I can get
the first line then the rest just pours out, poetry is
harder than anything else. Writing a book is much easier,
it’s getting published that takes decades. Cheerio from
sunny Birmingham as the clock strikes six.
80. Die Hard 4.0 or how to use talents
WE just finished watching Die Hard 4.0 on the tv. We all
really enjoyed it. The story revolved around people
taking over all of the computer networks in the USA.
There was loads of action but what made me think was how
would you deal with hackers?
In England we have a man with a form of autism who just
after 911 he broke into USA computers, because he was
looking for news of ETs, it was his hobby. He has been
dragged through English courts and finally he will be
sent to USA where he could go to jail for a long time.
So the question is why weren't the USA computers hack
proof. Was it because they weren't tested? Was it
arrogance? Me, if I were the USA authorities, I'd give
the guy a job and let him explain just how he did it. Or
is it empty pride? It would be far cheaper than sticking
him in jail. I'm sure if those of you who are in the USA
are reading this and you stop to think you agree with me.
War Games is a film from 10 to 20 years ago when teenage
hackers get into NORAD. A similar them.
When I eventually get around to writing Tears For A
Butcher my follow up comedy novel, then in that book
there will be a handicapped person who is a whiz on IT.
Their body may be mal formed but their brain is not. In
my story it’s to show that we shouldn't put people in a
dustbin because we are ignorant about them. And arrogant
towards them. In my story those IT whizes do get offered
a great job working for the USA, why because they did
what was in Die Hard 4.0, by the way I thought up my plot
line before I saw the film. Also in the follow up book
two twin sisters find their first boyfriends, and who do
these Venuses pick. Do they chose football heroes with
bulging muscles, but maybe no brains. NO these two
Venuses chose a guy with a limp and the other pick has a
severe stutter.
Why do I chose to make my characters in my book behave in
such a way? I want people who see the true worth of
people. Its not the smile, all flashing perfect teeth. A
better person may have bad teeth and bad breath. A real
hero is not all "Hollywood", it’s the guy in the garage
who fixes your car. It’s the fat middle age lady who is
the crossings lady when you take your kids to and from
school. It’s you when you deliberately start a
conversation with the lonely old lady on the bus. Your
very words are warmth to her soul. She'll smile and get
off the bus and wave to you. She'll talk about you to her
cat when she gets home. You have been the one ray of
sunshine in her day.
These are ordinary people who make up our world. Some
will have talents which God has sprinkled randomly, just
to remind us that all are loved by him. Even me, even
you.
81. Shakespeare in Love and various other thoughts
We just watched Shakespeare in Love the 1998 film. It was
very good and I enjoyed the music too. The passion for
words and the wheeler dealing was funny too. I think Dame
Judy Dench got an Oscar for it too, forgive me if I'm
wrong. The Passions and Pain was all revealed too, I'd
forgotten how good the film was. A long time ago I did a
course on Shakespeare, you have to try and understand the
style of the language too, the metaphors and old English
language. All in all a very good film, with even a young
Ben Afleck in it. So grab and pizza and get a copy from
your local video store.
What Shakespeare also reminded me was how we all need to
communicate to each other. If Joe knows cars then we
speak in car metaphors. It not patronising its
socialising, when I was working at the hotel 5 years ago
if we had Scots visitors then the word "wee" would slip
into my language it was the natural thing to do. We even
had Top Cops conferences so I'd share a joke with a Chief
Constable or two as I walked around the hotel on a
security patrol. The joke was we had a sniper on the roof
to keep petty car thieves away. We did have the most
secure car park on the NEC site. The NEC is the biggest
exhibition site in Europe, and bigger than the one in New
York, so I've been told.
If talking to chefs you always listen with respect not
just because they were masters in their field but because
chefs have knives, lots of knives so it’s always best to
have respect. The housekeeping crew knew everything about
cleaning rooms and corridors, so I'd share a word while
I did my 30 mins patrols that took me everywhere. Some
days I might even be helping them when the hotel was
ultra busy. So I'd stay out of Vicky's way by cleaning
the bathrooms while she cleaned the bedrooms. It’s very
hard work, but there is a sense fulfilment when a
corridor has been done. 15 rooms a day I think it was,
though it could have been 20. I'd take off my front of
house jacket and roll up my sleeve and put the rubber
gloves on while I was on bathroom duty. My dec phone
might ring then I'd be summons downstairs to help out at
front of house. Its all like a mad and busy ballet,
though I've never worn a tutu, though I have been
positively vetted by a Chinese ballet dancer when I first
met my wife, but that's another story.
Life is all about stories, if my story is appealing to
another person then we may become friends, to others it
may be boring and go on forever, so then I'm a bore. Its
how our lives connect and how social jigsaws fit together
that makes us all work as friends and as work mates.
Sadly there are people who put themselves above us, it
can be a boss or a priest in church or the snob selling
newspapers in the street. Life is about blowing bubbles
in the air that blow this way and that way, they may
stick together or blow randomly all over the shop. But
bubbles are a glorious thing they make us like children,
happy and innocent and willing to share our sweets. I'm
forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air is the
song. But the most important thing is the range of
colours, the joy, the happiness that bubbles bring, just
like Shakespeare's sonnets.
82. If I were a fashion writer.
To begin with let me explain. I was trawling through the
jobs sites when I came across an ad looking for all kinds
of everything for a Fashion Mag, nonpaid I might add. So
it set me thinking. I do have a Shanghai wife who sets
heads turning, and I have to comment on all the fashion
she wears. So after more than 10 years I have learnt a
little about Fashion.
I would no doubt be called Grandpa whenever I attended a
Fashion Event, I have the same white hair that the famous
fashion designer has, I don't wear gloves with the
fingers cut off though. Though I do have thinsulate
gloves in black and in red. Just as he has two colours.
My waistline is bigger, I'm as big as 2 models, though
you would never see me in purple lipstick and covered in
rouge. Fishnet tights though, that's another matter, Men
in tights and Pantomime is an English tradition. Google
Pantomime if you have not heard of Panto. Men dress up as
women and women dress up as men, perhaps as Robin Hood.
It’s fun for all the family. But I was talking about fish
net tights before I was side tracked. Fashion makes a
very big statement. Some of the high end fashion is not
really fashion. It really is a work of Art. I saw a
documentary once on TV and after watching the man with
the funny gloves and the white hair go about his work I
realised it really was Art and not just Fashion. Now what
would I do at a fashion show? I'd drink the free
champagne for starters, pity they don't serve hot dogs
too, then I'd be in heaven. Some of the designers destroy
what they are trying to achieve by too much hideous make
up. The fashion really would be better served by well
dressed dummies. Smearing a beautiful models with soot
just destroys the vision. The dead eyes that you see when
models walk the cat walk is terrible. Yes Fashion is
King, but if the models looked happy and you could almost
believe that they all fought to get into the dress they
were wearing. Then you'd say, she looks so happy wearing
that you can see the joy in her eyes. Then Fashion would
be better served.
There are other designs which are truly great but they
are ruined because the colour palette is so bad. It’s like
when you see 2009 Punk Rockers, I remember the original
ones 30 years ago so today's versions are just so passe.
You can go into a shop and as you look around you see 40
shades of grey or 20 shades of black. It’s not even worth
trying the clothes on. Ditto when you can see the clothes
are for 40 or 50 somethings. Colour is Great, so USE IT,
life is in Colour so lets see it in the designs.
Women are beautiful and the more intelligent 1/2 of our
species, their beauty should be celebrated and enhanced
by fashion. Colour and Cut matched to sympatric makeup
will make women glow, and allow women to wrap men around
their little finger even more. Good fashion does this and
I know that when I look at my wife.
83. BBC asks top writer to take course on drama
BBC asks top writer to take course on drama. I just read
that in today's Telegraph. I'm trying to get my foot in
the door in the writing game. I once posted my Internet
Story comic essay on a BBC site, where it was removed,
why, because
"And help find a publisher for my book , and then you've
guessed it , just send me 10 dollars !" Is the tag line
for the joke at the end of the essay. But to the BBC I
was soliciting money, so they removed it. If I had a
Bafta and had the BBC telling me how to write , I'd slam
it down on the desk of the idiot who asked me to do a
test and ask them to write a thesis on "How to win a
Bafta". Total BBC Idiots,
Sorry Moses you cann't part the Red Sea without Health
and Safety assessment 1st. And as for that stick in your
hand we will notify the Police, weapons are not allowed.
As for you Gandalf, drop it now or we'll try this new
mace on you, we've just imported it from USA.
Sorry no Loaves and Fishes or Water into wine either, you
don't have A3 consent.
Sorry Gordon and David, those speeches have to pass the
censor, and don't forget the 3pm watershed, we don't want
kids home from school getting all confused, which one is
the liar, is it always the one in Government or is it
just the Opposition.
So the BBC has to bore everybody with fair and balance
just like Fox news. Sadly I am not surprised, perhaps the
stuff I write is never PC, so it will never be published
or produced. www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
is where to find it, so judge for yourselves. My latest
idea is to turn my non PC play Shoplife into a Health
and Safety piece by using reverse logic
84. Under My Bed
What's under your bed? We used to have an airline pilot
stay at the hotel who would open his room door and leave
his flight bag down propping the door open while he then
rolled an orange under the bed. He said he travelled all
over the world and this was his safety routine. If you go
to a bad hotel you may find an uneaten Kentucky Fried
Chicken still in its box, under your bed. Normally it’s an
odd shoe or sock, if the housekeeping crew are trained
well you will never ever find any of these things. Having
cleaned a few rooms myself when I was at a 4star deluxe
hotel for 3 years, I can say it is hard work and you have
to be fast and furious. But so long as the hotel gets 6
quid or 10 dollars for the room then they are in profit.
But all of this is an aside, what's under your bed? We
decorated a few years ago and I had hundreds and hundreds
of photos in photo albums. We took down a couple of
shelves while we decorated, but then we had a problem,
one of them broke. The one which had all my photo albums
on. I hadn't really looked at all these photos in years,
so the bin beckoned. However I decided I'd keep them. So
where to put them. Under the bed was the solution, we had
an old suitcase so I put all my photos away. It must have
weighted 25 kilos, or 55 pounds or 4stones in English
terminology, which is as much as my big daughter weights,
talking of weight my wife only weights 6 stones, light
enough to be a jockey. Now there's an idea, my uncle
Patrick used to keep a donkey just to cut the grass
around the house in County Kerry. My wife could have
become a jockey, if only my uncle and the donkey were
still around. Life is all about timing after all.
So grunting and groaning I carried the old suitcase
upstairs and slid it under my bed. There it remained for
years. Two children later and today our smallest one
wanted to look at all the photo albums, the ones we keep
in the pantry. Though technology has moved on now and we
have maybe 1000 photos on the computer and in cyberspace
on our family site. But our smallest likes to see herself
when she was even smaller. So I decided to drag out the
suitcase and show both our girls photos of me from
25years ago and so. We had snaps from when my sister did
her year abroad, from when my brother lived in Paris.
There were lots of photos, 10 small albums of County
Kerry, donkey included. All my cousins, my dad's brother
had 10 children after all, my mum had 5 surviving
brothers and sisters. There were photos of the beach at
Cromane , my cousin's son measured the distance from the
corner of the house to the sea, just over 7 metres he
said, or about 23feet in old money. I remembered the
Love my aunty showed to all of us, she was always the
driver, 1000miles in 2 weeks seeing all the clan, she is
truly blessed. From the base in Killarney to all points
North/South/East/West you could put on a stone, or
14pounds in 2 weeks, 3 relatives a day, 3 meals a day.
All my cousins were always so generous and welcoming,
there was always so much gossip and stories to be heard.
All this lived in suspended animation in a suitcase under
my bed. They all awoke like a Princess in a Fairy tale
story when I dragged out the old suitcase today. My girls
said I looked so cool with my sunglasses and my
moustache. I told them I was younger than mummy is when
the photo was taken. Why did everybody have a moustache
in them days?
I also found my copy of The Outline Of History By
H.G.Wells , signed by Mr Lester the head teacher from my
Primary school. It was a leaving present, believe it or
not I was Head Boy at Primary school, it was a bit like
being a jailer really, as I had the keys to the building
and I locked up at dinner time. I also found a
certificate from 1969 because I wrote a story for a
competition, Junior Free Handwriting Story something.
This impressed my big daughter.
I found my mother’s prayer book with lots of religious
pictures inserted into the pages. Mrs Murphy in my novel,
The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker is based on my
mum, but not just her but my Aunty in Killarney and the 2
other sisters. So my fictional Mrs Murphy is to the power
of 4. While I'm thinking of it, I deliberately did not
write about my dad in my book, however after I finished
it I realised that Big Sid the butcher he was my dad.
Not because of any similarities whatsoever, but, the Love
Sid has is the same Love that my dad had for all of us.
Love is how you judge people, anything else is s*&%.
I also found a nice little book about Saint Martin de
Porres, I'll try and get my daughter to read it, it must
be 30 years old. All in all a lot of memories came
flooding out just because I looked under my bed. The
suitcase I threw away, the history book is back on the
remaining bookshelf just beside me. I found a large
strong plastic sack and I put my photos back in the bag.
The only thing I had to decide was where to put it. You
know what I thing I'll put it back under my bed. Memories to sleep on
85. Wrapping Paper
I was in Aldi and I spotted Winnie the Pooh wrapping
paper, my smallest girl just loves all things Winnie the
Pooh, so I got the paper. I wasn't sure whether to wrap
her Birthday present in it or just let her have the
paper. In the end I gave her the paper to play with. She
was delighted, immediately she wanted to use the wrapping
paper to wallpaper the walls with. As I've said before
she once said she liked Winnie the Pooh because his belly
reminded her of my belly. Such is a child's love,
unflattering but love.
It did get me thinking though, why do we need wrapping
paper? Packaging is part and parcel of ordinary life.
Easter eggs are the thing with the most packaging, so
much packaging and then so little chocolate. My mother
gave up on Easter Eggs because of the cost, there were so
many of us Caseys after all. So we had bars of Cadburys
chocolate instead, the Cadburys factory is just a couple
of miles from where I'm sitting. Easter came and we
devoured the Cadburys bars, cheaper than the Easter Eggs
but so very tasty.
People have wrapping paper or layers all around them, we
can all remember what Donkey said to Shrek, so many
layers like an onion. At the moment I'm dressing up in
the wrapping paper called a "suit", so that I can get a
new job. So people can see me at my best, hide my tummy
and hope they forgive my premature white head of hair, as
for my bushy eyebrows God alone knows what they may
think. You can judge for yourselves by clicking on the
photos on this site. How much do you reveal, how much do
you hide as you have an unnatural experience that is
called an interview. Perhaps interviews should take place
in a coffee shop, as you may know LLoyds of London
started in a London coffee shop 100s of years ago. Even
better interviews could be held in a bar. You have two
pints to prove your worth, so don't spill the peanuts
over the interviewer's haut couture dress. Perhaps then
at the 2nd interview you have to sing karaoke with the 2
interviewers, and IF you can sing My Way word perfect
then you get the job. It sure would be more fun.
More wrapping paper is used when we are embarrassed or
too shy to explain things to our doctor, we waste 5 mins
talking about the weather and the Fall leaves before we
finally blurt out that it’s a boil on the bum ort
something below the waistline. And why is it that on
these occasions the doctor on call is one of the opposite
sex, why can't it be your usual doctor.
Wrapping paper is used an awful lot in Faith, we lie to
ourselves and our God/Gods by thinking we don't have to do
this or we don't have to do that. Faith can become a
Buffet, we lie to ourselves and God, this bit does not
matter, so we'll show God only so much of ourselves. A
bit like cheating in an exam. I'm sure God's smiling as
he watches us, perhaps the Saints place bets on who will
finally come clean, clean being the operative word. The
Saints queue up ready to intervene, which 999 or 911 call
will come though so that a Saint can be dispatched. I
know in1996 when my mum had died suddenly and then 8 bare
weeks later my dad was given 1 week to live, we actually
picked the hymns for his funeral he was so bad. Then all
the layers, all the wrapping paper was off, Padre Pio
came to the rescue. So that I met my wife in the old
peoples' home, 3 years after my dad came back from the
dead. Dad lived long enough to hold his granddaughter in
his arms, 5.5 years after that massive heart attack.
The ultimate wrapping paper is love, It’s hard to say you
love somebody when your heart has been broken so many
times before. It’s hard to take a chance when somebody
might laugh in your face. Slowly you reveal one thing,
then another, then another, yes I can see the idea of a
Monty Python joke as I write this. I do write comedy
after all. But when 2 strangers become friends, when 2
become one, then all the wrapping paper is off. She may
not mind your hairy back or fat stomach, he may not mind
her big feet or whatever she feared. It can turn out that
what one thinks is ugly your Love may find attractive.
Love is Blind after all, Love conquers All, Love is all
you need. Together naked, the wrapping paper is
discarded.
86. The White Door
The White Door, or the dirty white door to be exact. I
had a dream last night and I saw a door, a dirty white
door. There were two nails driven into it in the top left
hand corner of it. That's all I remembered, we do have 2
white doors in our house but neither are like that.
So what was I dreaming about? Years ago I had a dream
dictionary, I would have eagerly read that to find out.
So instead I'll have to use the Internet, google will
have an answer no doubt.
I've said for years that I'd only get a real publisher IF
somebody opened the door for me. A negative friend always
says you have to make your own opportunities. I take the
view that it’s not ability but knowing somebody, the old
saying, it’s not what you know but who you know.
I knocked on loads of doors via emails, but still after
20 years no publisher for my novel. A friend said it’s not
just a door but maybe a window I'd may have to sneak my
talent through a window before I finally got my chance,
before my boat comes in.
My smallest daughter said she had a dream last night too,
she dreamt we moved house to the big white house we walk
past daily on the school run, and that we had a cat and
a dog. The dog will be called Subway. She was all excited
as she told me. Children just love animals, but I've said
no animals till we get a bigger house. Somebody somewhere
has to find me and like me, and then publish me before
our dreams can come true. Or my 32 year old lottery
ticket could finally come up trumps, thought I doubt it.
You never know what’s around a corner my old boss once
told me a long time ago, she was right, I met the wife in
a most unbelievable way. It’s all in Padre Pio and Me and
my Literary Criticism essays. Doors can be opened and
closed, closed in your face. For 3 years I stood by a
door when I worked at a 4star deluxe hotel, the whole
world passed through as I was a 30 second living
commercial for the hotel. Best 3 years of my life in a
way.
Doors in the mind are the best doors to open, because
they free you to experience more, I'm not talking about
taking pills or whatever, just in case any Old Hippies
are out there and reading this. Just open your heart and
you will open a door to experience more, to remove
barriers that leave you in a box, full of your own
prejudices. Think of it as food, we always have this and
we always have that. Because that’s the way we have always
done things. Then we meet somebody different and our food
world changes, our doors are open. Imagine me meeting a
Shanghai girl 10 years ago , I told her fish and chips
was haute cuisine. Now you need a degree in oriental
languages to know what's what in our fridge. The kids
love going to Subway as it’s a change from daily Chinese
food. That’s why if ever we move house the dog will be
called Subway.
I'll leave it at that now, though I can say that Fear
opened one door for me. I was so afraid of my Primary
school teacher when I was 8 that I started to read books,
and it changed my life. Getting an old Bush radio from
one of our lodgers also opened another door for me,
expanding your mind is a great adventure. If you are
lucky it leads to a corridor full of doors and
opportunities. I suppose writing these blogs as well as
the essays and plays and the comic novel is a door too,
you the reader are seeing into my mind, I just hope you
like the view.
87.
Where do the tears go when they are shed ©
By
Michael Casey
Where do the tears go when they are shed
While I lie here crying on my bed
Do the tears drip drip away and seep though
The floorboards and head for the sea.
Do my tears join an ocean that rises and falls
Do the tears yell and scream but only sea farers
Hear them, do whales moan as they crash through them
Only whales know of my distress as my tears groan
In deep deep oceans in the unknown dark deep seas.
Do my tears head north to the North Pole and Santa
Does Santa Ho Ho Ho so much because he is trying to drown
out
The cries and sobs and tears held back for so many years.
Do tears form ice shelves and become icebergs, silent and
majestic
Like giant cathedrals of ice. Is this the way to silent
the voice of tears.
Frozen in Time for 100s of years, the fears of today and
yesterday are merged
As one, gagged for eternity in an ice cathedral.
Will everything be forgot, deep freezed, quick frozen
like garden peas.
Do my tears evaporate and head for the sky, joining the
clouds as they pass by.
Are my tears blown this way and that, are they taken far
away over the ocean.
As planes pass through the clouds that are my tears, can
the passengers hear
Can the passengers hear my tears, all my hopes and fears,
or are my tears
Drowned out by the inflight movie, 007 killing my
prayers to heaven.
Do my tears wash away my pain, my guilt, are they like
mothers’ milk?
For tears touch us all, they are like a morning mist that
shrouds us.
For tears are the dark dark night of the soul, a cold
coat that covers us.
In the morning we remember we fell asleep crying, but
what of now?
Now we’ve looked at our dead mum’s photo and think of
what she would have said.
We smile as we remember, her fight, her love, her spirit,
her smile.
But never tears, she shed no tears for us, she shed no
tears for us.
Tears will come, tears will come again, but they are just
water, we are stronger
Than mere water, we have a boat and that boat is Love.
**** I had this poem in my head so tonight I tried to a
nail it down
88.A_Famous_Life_an_Expired_Life_Words_from_Beyond_The_Grave
I did my best, I tried to live a holy life, thinking of
the next life and not tied to this. But now I'm gone you
turn me into an icon, I get 15minutes of fame, after I'm
dead, but those 15minutes last forever. I wanted a humble
grave, a quiet send off, only a brass band turned up.
People spoke kind words about me, some even meaning them,
but for what? For vanity, for care, for compassion to
those I left behind, or to make themselves important by
association. I'm just a signpost pointing the way, go
higher, don't stop at me, the signpost, go higher. Go to
heaven itself, not this ornate graveyard, with people
selling tee shirts with my name on. Go higher.
I'm just a mother so remember me well, don't fight with
one another, love one another and help each other, if you
want to remember me then remember those words of mine.
And I'm not angry with you any more, for that joke about
Thomas being the ideal name for an atheist. Breath the
fresh air, sit on the grass in our small garden and
remember how as kids we all cut that grass by using small
pairs of scissors because we couldn't afford a lawn mower.
Life goes on without me, I never saw those pretty girls
of yours, but God lets us see things sometimes, and yes
you are right I would have spoilt them if only I had
lived to see them. But my passing led to dad going into
the old folks home, and it was there where you met you
wife, at least he held the 1st girl in his eyes before he
was called into Paradise. And do you know they have a
beautiful garden there, and for fun we are allowed to cut
the grass with scissors, one blade at a time. So enjoy
your life and enjoy your family. Those prayers you said
for years brought tears to Heaven, and then by chance at
a letter box she met a man who ran the home, and that’s
why she was there waiting for you, waiting for you all
the time, love is no crime. Hope and Tears and love, and
I did give cupid a push from above, and I'm so glad you
didn't call anybody Thomas.
89. Pink Floyd, Music and Me
I've just watched a biography about Pink Floyd's Dark
Side of The Moon. It was very good, music really is the
soundtrack to our lives. Compared to Music, Writing is
rubbish, Photography is better than Writing too. The old
saying a picture is worth 1000 words rings true. I used
to be surgically attached to a camera as my old boss used
to say. Any company event and I was there with my camera.
That’s no longer true, but I use it to illustrate the fact
that I like photos, taking them and composing them.
Straight boring photos were people line up, like in 1950s
school photos are terrible. Photos should have energy, I
did enter a competition to win a nice new Nicon. but I
don't think I've won. They wanted a cycle shot, like in
Tour de France. I sent in a photo of my daughter, then
aged 3, riding a plastic tricycle in our back yard, she
was wearing her pink pyjamas and some pearls she'd stolen
from my wife. If Nicon have a sense of humour then
perhaps I'll win after all. Anyways I hope that proves
photos are more powerful than words. Going back to music
though, my brother used to have a reel to reel tape
recorder and a speaker through which he played music at
high volume, to drown out the sound of the rest of us
while he was studying. Using this method he got into the
best university. So it was then 40years agro that my
Love of Music began, at the time it was Cream music,
which featured a young Eric Clapton. I still have that
speaker in my house. And as for Eric Clapton, I almost
carried his bags. Going back to my point though, Music
touches us in seconds, a Clapton riff, the first few
notes of a piece played by a pianist on a piano, a phrase
by Michael Bulee. Musicians have power over us. So much
power. Perhaps the caveman who drummed on a skull with a
bone from other caveman he'd just eaten; perhaps he,
perhaps he excited the cavewoman enough so he could mate
with her, and that led to us, and me writing here in
Birmingham England and with a press of the button sharing
my thoughts with the entire world. So a drumbeat on a
skull was the beginning of music, and sex and the
continuation of our species. As for writing, thousands of
years had to pass before it began and could be used to
pass on stories. Storytelling started straight away, as
the cavewoman told he sister to get some of the action
from the drummer. But the writer as such did not start
until thousands of years later. Perhaps that is why Music
is deeper within us, and why we hum and whistle or tap
tap tap on the steering wheel while we are stuck in
traffic. If there are 3 words that can be written to
compare with the speed of Music's power, perhaps its " I
Love You" , "I want you", "Come here...." Words like
that, spoken, do have power, but words have to be backed
up with better words, stronger words, the words on the
page have to ignite to get the reader to read more, to
touch the reader. A poem or two of mine can touch people
when my poetry is on form, but, but it takes 30seconds
for my words to go from the page through somebody's eyes
and then finally touch their heart. And that's why I'll
always be jealous of drummers, even if the drums are
made of leftover skulls from dinner.
90. Tempus Fugit - I am your Future, you are my Past
Its my smallest daughter's Birthday soon, this got me
thinking. My sister sent some presents over in advance
and my daughter was delighted with her treasure, even if
it wasn't Winnie The Pooh but some other bear. Eyes
lighting up as she went through her bag of treasure,
counting out the treasure just like the King in his
counting house. Her big sister observing and trying not
to get jealous, however she had some treasure of her own,
my sister had sent some Maths quiz books over to
encourage her with her sums.
This morning they were having a disco in their bedroom,
with a DAB radio blasting out Heart at high volume. I had
an blue radio with holes in it like a sieve when I was
their age, it had MW & LW on it. FM was not the standard
yet in those days. IT was while listening to that radio
that we heard RFK had been shot, I remember running down
stairs to tell me mum, she was in the kitchen, she was
always in the kitchen, she fell to her knees and got her
rosary beads from her apron pocket.
A few years later Frank who was one of our lodgers went
back to Ireland to look after his sick mum, her left all
of his stuff behind, a full and heavy suitcase plus a
Bush Radio. He eventually came back and said we, that’s me
and my brother could have the radio. The Bush radio is a
classic design. It has a large strip carry handle, like a
giant strip of marzipan, it also has a giant saucer dial
with grooves in it, and as for the controls they were
like dominoes, plus a grooved wheel to turn for volume.
That radio changed my life. Why? Well me and my brother
used to listen to the World Tonight with Douglas Stuart
reporting, which was a 30min news programme from the BBC
Radio4 and best of all it was followed by The Book at
Bedtime. Because I started to listen to Radio 4 from the
age of 10 or so I became addicted to Current Affairs as
posh people call it, News to you and me. The stories and
plays were great too. Though after 20years of radio
plays, The Radio 4 radio play style can have its shine
taken off. So that was my thing for 20years or so, I
suppose that was what led me to Writing. It also made me
realise Radio is better than TV, as far as news goes.
Radio has more power and the picture don't get in the way
of the story. IF you try an experiment and listen to a
news story then later watch the news and hear the same
story, you will realise that the Radio version is better.
Those of you in USA may not be able to do this experiment
directly, so try closing your eyes and listening to the
news, then watch the same piece later. Ears are better
than Eyes.
Nowadays DAB radio is the thing, though they use lots of
electricity, but the sound quality is so good. So my
daughter has a DAB radio and that's her standard, small
radio but high quality. The Bush radio we had was bigger
than a cereal box and heavy too, but it did change my
life. It was company for me when my brother left home to
do his gap year, before gap years were invented, as I
struggled with my Latin, my Bush radio was the sound in
the background. Though I had music on when I did
homework, now as I write this I have music on too but
this time its via the computer. Where have all the years
gone, I look at my eldest daughter and she looks so much
like me when I was small over 40years ago. WE have a joke
as we look into each other’s eyes. "I am your future, you
are my past."
91. What If
I stumbled over this from a few years ago, perhaps you'll
like it. The attachments can be downloaded in seconds and
then you can sample my 2 books and a couple of plays.
They all go well with a coffee and a donut
What If (c)
By
Michael Casey
What if Today wasn't the 1st day of a New Year but the
last Day of Your Life.
Who would you hug, who would you kiss, who would you
miss.
Who would miss you, do you have a clue, and do you know
why?
Would your years of striving to be a good
writer/teacher/cop or whatever still mean so much to you
.
Would you miss making love in a tent high up in the
mountains.
Would you miss a real good coffee and donut on 7th and
4th.
Would you miss the sales where you always bought nothing
but shoes, shoes for work. But the fun you had with the
girls was worth it , because pals are fun.
Would you miss Midnight Mass and Silent Night getting
home exhausted and late and crying for your late mother.
Would you be too afraid that you'd not meet her again in
the afterlife, or would that be the only hope you'd cling
too as you watched the hands on clock sweep around faster
and faster.
Would you rail at the world and want to get your gun and
shoot those bastards who'd ruined your life in the past ,
even if all they ever did was steal your parking place,
or would you be all sweetness and light, dying peacefully
without a fight.
What would be your parting words, would anybody remember
you, small kindnesses remembered and rewarded.
Remember thou art dust and to dust thy will return is the
Ash Wednesday phrase
Is that how you want to be remembered?
Or he made me laugh, he made me cry but I was always was
happy when he was around , I'll miss him yes , but I've
not lost him because because a laugh lasts forever.
That is my hope, for the start of this New Year and new
day, and every day because we all should live like today
is our last because one fact is certain, one day it will
be , so make 'em laugh , make 'em laugh, make 'em laugh
Happy New Year from this Comedy Writer Michael Casey
92. Pick Your Poem + (c) my new children’s book
This is my new children’s book, this is the first page or
so, my big daughter is going to do the drawings for it.
Perhaps I'll end up as the new Roald Dahl
Pick Your Poem + (c)
by Michael Casey + Annie
ONE
Dad loves watches, he loves if they sparkle
BUT THE SAD THING IS THEY ALWAYS BREAK.
He told me that he got one for passing the 11 plus
I’m not sure what that is, I think its when you are over
11
So when dad was 11 and 1 day he got a watch. He said it
was
from one of the lodgers, Big Jim. Big Jim was like an
uncle
to my dad, he gave him things and when Big Jim died dad
got lots of his things. But I was talking to you about
watches.
Dad has a very sweaty wrist, so when dad works his wrist
gets
sweatier and sweatier. So that the watch steams up, just
like
when mum is making rice and the kitchen window steams up,
so
mum has to ask dad to open the kitchen window to let the
steam
go out. She is very small you see, because my mum is from
Shanghai
which is in China, didn’t I tell you that already. Well
you know now.
Unlike a kitchen a watch does not have a window to open
to let the
steam out, the teacher in school told us that blind
people do have
watches with windows, but that’s not to let the steam
out, its so the
blind people can touch the time. So really dad should
have a watch
like that, then everything would be ok.
The Photo is Mum and Dad a long time ago in the kitchen
Dad has had lots of watches, not just steamed up watches
but
he breaks them too. Dad says its because he’s always been
carrying
Things,like heavy paper in computer rooms. He even told
me that
Computers used to be as big as washing machines, I think
he was
telling me lies, computers are as big as books everybody
knows that,
so I told him “liar, liar burn in fire” That’s what Irish
Grandma
used to say. He said one nightshift the glass came out of
his watch,
so dad glued it back on with superglue, only dad glued
the hands of
the watch together. Sometimes I think dad is stupid, but
then he tells
me stories so he cann’t really be that stupid. Mum says
he’s her stupid
and clever husband. Chinese Grandpa sent him a watch and
dad hasn’t broke
that one yet, he’s had it 6years perhaps all he needed
since the 11 plus
was a Chinese watch then he wouldn’t have broken 20 or
more watches.
TWO
Tick toc tick toc
The hands on daddy’s watch go around
The hands are getting dizzy
The hands are going around and around
Tick Tock Tick Tock
The glass is steaming up,
its hot inside this watch.
Tick tock Tic Tock
The hands are slowing down
The hands are slowing down
Its steamier than a bathroom
Inside this watch
Tick Tock Tick Tock
The glass is all steamed up now
Tick Tock STOP
The watch is as quiet as a mouse
The watch has stopped forever
Tick Tock stop
If you like what I've done so far then send me an email
thanks. Michael
93. The Next Big Thing or how my big daughter told me to
write a childreen’s book
The kids finally go to bed and we can hear them rushing
around and laughing.We shout up the stairs telling them
not to make such noise and be quiet or they will wake the
baby next door. But it does make us smile, me especially.
Then my big daughter sneaks downstairs to have a chat
while the other half of the family sleeps. Its nice, I
used to have a "social" with my mum when I was young,
she's sit on the top step of the stairs while I told her
all my hopes and dreams, then she'd give me a goodnight
kiss and I went to sleep happy. Now over 40 years on I am
doing the same thing for my daughter, and not doubt she
will do the same with her children. Tonight I was
explaining sibling rivalry and how it was really a waste
of time, I could never match my brothers and their very
high educational standards, I was me and they were them.
Could they write a poem such as this:-
Let There Be Light ©
By Michael Casey
Let my tears be my words
Let the candle light be my eyes
Let the flowers in bloom be my lips
Let their scent be my blood
Let the wind be my breath
Let clouds be my mood
Let children’s laughter be my hope
Let widows’ sighs be my conscience
Let a stranger’s prayers be my delight
Let the bees be my wisdom
Let the trees be my strength
Let my patience reach to the stars
Let me be always remembered in your prayers
Well I don't think so, but they can drive, I have a
driver in the form of my wife. So I tried to explain this
to my big daughter, how we were all different. Then she
got me to put her to bed, and tuck her in, then she said I
should write poetry for kids. So there you have it, I'll
be trying to do that. It doesn't take as long as writing
a play ora novel, she said I should put Tears For A
Butcher on hold. The 1st chapter is written, and I've got
ideas for 50% of the rest of the book, but now I think
I'll follow her request. Then she can do the drawing for
whatever I come up with. We did think of writing "My
Silly Family" a while back, but now while I try to find a
job I have a bit of time to try writing poetry and
stories for children. So forgive me if I park my new
babies on this site. Does anybody remember Edward Lear
and his Nonsense Verse from 100 years and more ago, we
can all check google for him after I have finished
writing this. So basically that's my next thing to do
after I put it on my to do list.
Goodnight and God Bless as my mother used to say in the
60s.
94. Traffic and Bubble Bath
I watched the film Traffic today, I recorded it the other
night and left it on our machine, so today I watched it.
Everything was understated, it was directed by Steve Soderbergh,
,I hope I got that right the credits were
rolling fast. I was impressed by the good Mexican cop who
risked his life so much, he was a very good actor.
Michael Douglas also gave a very good performance. His
daughter slipped into drugs from being a very rich kid
who was bored, in the end she was a hooker to pay for her
habit. Very seedy. The style of the film also made in
more interesting. How many awards it won I don't know. I
could Google and find out but I'm sure the film buffs
reading this will tell me. In the end Michael Douglas
realised that his grand job was worth nothing compared to
the love of his daughter and his wife for that matter.
Family is everything.
Bubble bath is so nice, perhaps some may call me a girl
for saying this but it is true. A good old soak in the
bath is great, especially with the radio for company.
Being like a Hippo for half an hour or until the water is
no longer hot IS great. You do come out all wrinkly a lot
like a prune but it is great. I know in USA its showers
but I think a soak is always nicer. My wife likes sauna,
then a shower or a bath when she comes back from the
sauna at the bottom of our street. My old uncle Dan in
Boston loved the public sauna too back in 1980 I was
taken there when I was on holiday. But back to bubble
bath, it is a kind of church. Why do I say church, before
you have cartoons in your mind let me explain. You are at
your most relaxed when you are lying there in a warm
environment with nice aromas around you. Its a kind of
womb, and if you put your ears under the water then
things sound how the outside world sounds to an unborn
baby. In the bath or should I say tub, in the bath you
can relax and all the day's problems can dissolve. You
are probably closer to your god too, no outside events
crowding your time and mind, I'd bet too that people pray
more while they are all alone in the bathroom. You are
all alone and there are no barriers, you are literally
naked before God. No expensive suits and designer
jewellery, you cannot be pompous and powerful when you are
naked and looking like a prune and covered in bubbles.
Inventors probably get their best ideas when they are in
a bath. Don't let us forget Archimedes in his bath
either.
But why am I linking Traffic and Bubble Bath? Drugs kill
and corrupt. Bubble bath turns us back into kids and
cleans us. Our minds, our imagination are our greatest
gift. We may be thrown into jail but we still have our
minds. We may be doing a job we hate, but our minds are
free. Drugs are just a passing high. But if you have
your mind, your imagination then you have something to
play with which is more powerful than any drug. An
imagination is even more powerful than Nuclear Weapons.
And man's imagination can bring an end to nuclear
weapons.
Perhaps its in our baths covered in bubbles and hot
water that we know just how great Peace is and how Peace
and NOT drugs should be shared around. So starting one
person at a time we can influence Life on Earth.
p.s. while I was cleaning the car park of CPNEC
that's when the idea for Tears For A Butcher
came to me. Imagination is our greatest gift.
95. Extended Christmas
We have a lot of snow in England at the moment, some even
say its the worst Winter in 30 years. The Infant school
opened only to shut down on the first day at Midday. The
Junior school over the road stayed open, they did let you
take the kids home if you had a sibling at the Infant
school. Both schools are at the top of the hill,
literally on the brow of the hill, with the soup bowl
woods just behind the Junior school. I decided it was
safer to walk than drive the car, so JJ stayed while I
walked the kids up the hill. I kept on saying "remember
this", as we listened to the sound of the snow crushing
under our feet. I got them to observe the snow as we
walked to school, the pretty natural "pictures" they
could see and how they could draw them in the future. I
encouraged them to observe the shapes, I want them to
have memories for the future. When they have children and
grandchildren they can tell them about the big winter of
2009/2010, just how pretty it all looked. They may even
remember me. After school we went through the woods
,the snow looked great behind the school as I showed the
girls. There must have been 150 people all enjoying the
snow and maybe 15 people with sledges, any of you film
fans out there will remember "Rosebud" and citizen Kane,
so I needn't say any more. For me though it was an
opportunity to plant seeds in my kids imagination, joy
and love and snow. Today and the weekend we missed
another load of snow but there may be more tomorrow. In
fact it was noticeably milder and the snow in the back
garden wasn't rock solid, it had melted enough to make a
snowman. So I started a snowman for my girls and when
they get back from school together we can finish it off.
These simple pleasures are what makes family, so I hope
wherever you are reading this you do the same for your
own family.
96. Junk Mail and how to destroy it and all of their
computers
I don't know about you but junk mail is a total bore. I
think I'm world famous now, why? I get 20 a day,
sometimes more. Sometimes for fun I reply and give them
rubbish information. You always get the story that they
are dying of cancer and they want to leave you all their
money. Or the subject line is "from the desk of barrister
James Pooh" and other such gems. I saw on tv news how in
one place in Africa there were a line of computers and a
teacher at the front who had written the fake story on
the blackboard and they were all typing it out. Junk
emails also come from China too and all corners of the
globe. HOTMAIL ALERT please send us all your info or lose
your hotmail. Phishing scams galore, and I click them out
of existence. If I had Captain Kirk's technology then I'd
vaporise them. If only Bill Gates would let me hit
return and them send a magnetic pulse in an email so I
could wipe their computers, and far far worse. I'm sure
everybody who reads this is agreeing with me. Oh don't
forget the 1,000,000,000 I've just won according to the
junk email, just send my details and then they'll ask for
a 100 to cover expenses and then they'll post a check
for 1,000,000,000. And yes I just to attention when its
from the desk of barrister James Pooh. And don't let us
forget they are believers, DECIEVERS and crooks and liars
that is what they really are. With each email address
that is zapped they get an even more improbable new
address. I still think Bill Gates should let me send a
zapping email that wipes their hard drive. But he's too
busy trying his new Google phone. Hey Bill can you just
put that down for as second and help me with this email.
However somewhere in the wide world somebody who has
English as a 2nd language may end up reading this and
think Bill Gates is sitting on the chair next to me
sobering up after stealing all my beer from the fridge,
and then I'll end up will 200 junk emails a day. But as
we all know today is Thursday 7th Jan and every Thursday
that is also the 7th Bill goes bowling with the
President, not the USA President, but with the President
of the Michael Casey appreciation society and
they read all my stories from my site
www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
AND IF YOU BELIEVE ANY OF THIS THEN YOU BELIEVE IN
FAIRIES, or you are still reading from a Blackboard......
97.Horror Story and other stuff
I asked my daughter for an idea then I'd write a story,
just as we all used to do when we were kids in school.
She said "Pain" as I hurt my back again recently and it
took 2 weeks to heal. But I decide to write about Horror
instead. As I speak the kids are in bed, either that our
they are staying in their room and drawing. Drawing is
big in our house. My wife is very good and can ever do
calligraphy in Chinese symbols. My own brother can also
draw well, so I'm pleased its being passed down the
generations. Me, I'm just rubbish.
What about horror? Well you meet somebody and then they
turn out different to what you expected, so that in a way
is a horror story. As for real horror films, or suspense
films they tend to be polarised. You have the buckets of
blood ones, which I cannot really watch. Or the suspense
ones, with the creek on the stairs. I think the creek on
the stairs ones are better, buckets of blood ones tend to
be just that, all buckets of blood and no plot. I saw the
Lost Boys recently on TCM it was funny and had a good
plot and did not rely on too much blood. My wife hides
behind her hands when the suspense ones are on. It was
film that brought us together, watching films, and yes we
are a kind of Adams Family, when my young daughters
friends arrive I say "welcome to the Adams family" ,
sharing a good film does break down barriers.
Japanese films are good too, the cartoons that are so
well drawn, we saw one this afternoon it had even won an
oscar, best of all it was on BBC so there were no adverts
to ruin the film. It’s still funny when we see an old film
and it’s the first time my wife has seen it in English, or
without Chinese subtitles. But then I watch Chung Ying
Fat in some things and I'm raving about it. My wife just
gives me a potted history of all the stars and who is
married to who. So films are our joy, so don't switch
off the lights I'm going to bed now and I'll make lots of
noise as I go up the scared, just to frighten away any
ghosts that may be there.
98.How to bribe the kids while the wife is at the dentist
Well, just how do you bribe the kids while the wife is at
the dentist? The answer is Dr Who, a science fiction
action show for all the family. Goggle will reveal all.
My kids knew there were 2 Dr Who episodes on tonight on 2
different stations. They reminded their best friend and
her nana on the way home, it was so important not to miss
one.
Once home we had 2 hours before Dr Who started. So books
out and must be read before any tv. Apart from me and Tv
news, I watch BBC, Sky, Fox News. My girls hammered the
books and I prepared their meal. Mini instant 3 minute
pizza, followed by milk and bananas and oranges.
Normally its Chinese food made by my wife, rice with
everything, so what I dish up is a change for them. Its
three saucepans on the go and my wife stirring just like
the witches in Macbeth, ubble, bubble, boil and eye of
newt and tail of bat. That's how I tease her, you have
to, it’s what she'd grown use to after 10years or so.
The kids ate and I watched the news. Then the reading all
done it was wash then Dr Who, I got them to get all
cleaned up so they could watch Dr Who back to back. Dr
Who then bed, everything all done by 8pm. Well so much
for the plan. The 1st episode I did not want to watch
again so I browsed the Internet, just in case Tiger Woods
had stopped by.
The 2nd episode of Dr Who was set in ancient Pompeii, on
Volcano Day. I have actually been there, back in 1995 its
a great sight to see. If you ever get the chance then do
go, but no doubt Google can reveal lots for you. So I
enjoyed Dr Who with the kids, I should say that Dr Who
started 40 years ago when I was a kid, it was reinvented
recently and has won awards like the British equivalent
on a Tony award. Yes that good. Dr Who does not die he
just grows a new body and carries on, he's over 900 years
old. I'd love to see his 401 plan. So Dr Who ended and
the kids went to bed. Result.
My wife arrived late, I knew she'd gone off for an
adventure. Only to Cost Co for margarine, with the coins
she'd stolen from my wallet all in the name of car park
machines. I had wanted to go with her tomorrow because
you can get a great hot dog and a soda and a soda refill
for 1,47 which is 2.25 in dollars I think. So I had
missed my chance for a hot dog. She did have some news
though. Her wisdom teeth would be taken out in January,
and they wanted to pay her 150pounds or 220dollars IF she
let them try a new anaesthetic. So they would be the
witches and she would be in the pot so to speak. I told
her she should have said NO. She had said No already. Then
she told me the date. The date for her wisdom teeth to
come out will be my dad's 8th anniversary of his death.
99.The First Christmas Card
My daughter brought her first Christmas card home from
school today, so in time honoured tradition I picked her
up and we placed it on top of the kitchen cupboards. In
fact she had 5 cards, so we bunched them all together so
that when the avalanche of cards arrives we will have room
for them all. Back in the days when me and my sister
lived at home there were stings going backward and
forward across the living room and the tally was 200 or
even 250, my sister was/is very popular so her cards were
the bulk of those that the Casey family got.
So now 25years and more further on I hold up my daughters
and we display the cards. Soon the kitchen space will be
full so then I perch the cards on the paintings that we
have on the walls, then we fill the space on top of the
telly with more cards. Christmas is on its way. My
brother came with cards and presents for the girls. I hid
the presents and they will have to wait 3 more weeks
before they get them. They love their uncle because he
always brings something, he does look a bit like santa
too what with his huge white beard. Our mother no doubt
blesses all her children from Heaven, we continue the
love without her.
My youngest was at a Birthday party tonight so I took her
big sister with me when I went to fetch her home. We went
up the shopping street and could see the Christmas lights
as they were switched on tonight. We also noticed how the
posher streets than ours were so dark, at least our
street lights were brighter. We passed by one of my dream
houses, but again in the gloom I did not like it so much.
Bringing the small one home we got her to close her eyes
and walk, she didn't cheat either then on the count of
three she opened her eyes to see all the pretty colours
that make up the shopping street Christmas decorations.
she was impressed.
Walking home we observed all the Christmas trees and
lights that people had in their own homes, nice and
pretty. Though it does remind me of County Kerry when
everybody has a light in the window, so you can look from
Cromane over to Inch on the Dingle Peninsula and see all
the lights in the windows. I think its to guide the 3
kings, but ask your own local priest or Fr. Google may
know. Though it was in 73 when I remember it the most. We
were all much younger then. Christmas is a time of Love
and Family, a time of watching The Bishop's Wife with
Cary Grant. Of watching a Christmas Carol with a tear in
our eye, eating too much and spilling ice cream over the
new jumper your aunty had just given you. So you will
have to wash it first before you give it away to the
Salvation Army. But most of all it is a time of Hope.
100. Pub to Bus Wisdom?
I went to see a friend and his crew today, a few beers
followed by a noodle bar, a few jokes too. Time really
does fly when you are enjoying yourself. 40 years worth
of time to be exact, I've know Big D since grammar school,
40 years ago. In fact my mother knew his grandmother for
years before we ever met. He remembers our exam scores
from 40years ago. He credits me with much more than I
really am. Though I do use him for references, why
because he went to University, in fact he is Dr BigD PhD,
I had him sign his name at my wedding too, just so my
kids in the future would be impressed by it all. Mind you
once I married into a Chinese family and met Chinese
folks a PhD was quiet common. If there are 1350,000,000
people you had better have a great CV or you'd get
nowhere. Also at my wedding was William and Cindy. Cindy
was a beach babe/lifeguard from Taiwan and her husband
William was Dr William and his PhD was in Metallurgy, and
my dad was a Blacksmith, so William was both impressed
and honoured to meet my dad. On the bus Big D, which is
his nickname because he is so small and Big D was a brand
of peanuts 40years ago. On the bus Big D was telling me
how he had to take a few exams every year so that he
stayed certified as a Path Lab person, obviously I'm
totally ignorant of all things medical. On my wedding day
JJ and Big D were doing chemical equations on a napkin in
McDonalds, jj the wife has a chemistry degree so they
have something in common. Big D once had chicken's feet
cooked for him by jj at our house, he thinks I'm a girl
for not trying them. The bus carried on so I asked had he
made his Will yet, what with swine flu around, besides he
could always leave me his stamp collection. Then I'd buy
a bigger house. Sadly he said he wanted to be burnt with
all his worldly goods with him , a bit like a Viking I
suppose. I told him JJ wanted to be cremated too, but I
told her I'd just bury her in the back yard. Yes we did
get a few strange looks from people on the bus, but we
had alcohol and Chinese in us so we didn't care. He told
me he'd send a postcard from Seattle, he's been going
there for 8 years, so Christmas time is his vacation
time. Then he stumbled off the bus, my stop is 3 stops
more down the road. So I got off and did my usual sprint
down the Bearwood rd. I noticed a half price bed in one
shop, IF I can squeeze it into my dog leg stairs then I
may get a new bed for Christmas. Then getting home I
managed to fix the computer, 1st law of electrics, unplug
and rest and then try again. So it worked. I also entered
a win a watch competition on a watch website. So if I win
then I'll have a nice new watch, a 250dollar automatic
one, it will be my Christmas present. At the moment I
wear one donated by my Chinese dad the year before he was
tragically killed in Shanghai. But I did meet him when I
went to Shanghai in 2000, and he agree with me, he was
the only one who agree with me that sending jj back to
tell all my bad points WAS the right thing to do. And the
rest is history or you can have a look at the photos
section. That's about it really, oh by the way tomorrow
our youngest is a sheep in the Nativity Play so I'm
looking forward to that. And then 14-18 Feb is Chinese
New Year. So Goodnight Wherever You Are, HIC
Well I hope you all enjoyed this selection of Blogs.
Amazon Kindle has 5 of my books for sale. So enjoy
www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com is my site
and click link to buy my 5 books on Amazon
http://www.amazon.co.uk/MichaelCasey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
today is 24/May 2013