Match this with my Audio

 Match this with my Audio

I have a stalker who reads or is it steals as soon as I post my writing

everything remains my copyright

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 1⁄2

full or glass 1⁄2 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/Michael- Casey/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/Michael- Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

today is 24/May 2013

9th Dan Black Belt Judo, or just a big fat daddy