smell of smoke everywhere but I cannot see the fire

Smell of Smoke Everywhere, but  cannot see the fire

Will Young continues to keep me company

I love his voice

He has a sold out concert tour, so God Bless him

Crying On the Bathroom Floor 

which reminds me of an old but true story

from 30 years ago maybe

so I'll paste it in

I just heard down the hill a mile away, there was a fire

nobody hurt, but I must have a good nose for smoke

Meanwhile Putin is ready to let Hell burn everywhere

Maybe Satan gets him first and a new modern Russia can emerge

Who Loves their Neighbours

Meanwhile I did meet Will Young 20 year ago

I was working at the Crowne Plaza NEC back then

He was a singer, and I was just me

Now I'm even fatter, would he remember me on the landing

with my Passpartous Key

Michael Casey the Fat Silver Haired Writer in Shades from Birmingham

my CPNEC Crowne Plaza Birmingham NEC 2002 to 2005 this was me around that time

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC?ref_=dbs_p_pbk_r00_abau_000000

                                                         Michael's  Bathroom   ©

                       

 

                                by

 

 

                          Michael  Casey

 

 

         Six months previously Michael had decorated his living room,  he

 

had to, the white walls had turned to a nicotine stained yellow in places

 

such  was the downside of having a South facing living room.  Now it  was

  

the turn of the bathroom again.  The bathroom was very small,  not  even

  

enough room to swing a cat,  it was about 7 foot by six foot,  which was

  

just big enough for the bath,  the sink and the bog. Why did people want

  

big bathrooms anyway? You weren't going to hold dinner parties in there,

  

or  go  jogging,  yes Michael was used to and by now satisfied  with  his

  

small  bathroom.  However it always seemed to need decorating,  he  just

  

needed to open the window more often and let the steam out.  Michael just

  

loved to wallow in the bath like a Hippopotamus,  he had a radio on  the

  

windowsill  so he could listen to Heart FM while he shaved and bathed  and

  

watched  the spiders.  There were spiders galore in his  bathroom,  his

  

mother  always said spiders brought money with them,  perhaps  snared  in

  

their webs,  Michael even looked under the bath behind the panel just  in

  

case  the spiders had indeed brought gold with them,  sadly all he  found

  

was yet more spiders and their webs.

 

        Years ago at work the offices were tarted up,  so new carpet  was

  

laid  in  the reception,  so Michael had begged for the off  cuts,  and

  

persuaded Paul Robinson to give him a lift home with it. Once home though

  

it was late Michael got out some very sharp scissors and laid the carpet in

  

the bathroom, he'd have a posh bathroom now, no more cold lino for him.

 

Actually  he did make a good job of the carpet fitting,  there  was  some

  

left over too. Now the bad thing about ordinary carpet in the bathroom is

  

that it gets manky,  firstly because Michael splashed a lot in the bath,

  

his mother had always told him off for splashing in the bath since he  was

  

a child,  she was afraid the water would leak though the ceiling into the

  

living  room below.  He did not have that problem now in his own house,

  

why, because he had a concrete floor. So the carpet got wet, due to the

  

splashing in the bath. Michael was also a bad shot, so he'd occasionally

  

piss  on  the floor,  when he came rushing home dying for  a  piss  after

  

having too many shandies.  Also if you spill domestos or other bleach  on

  

carpet it changes colour.

 

         As for the ceiling and walls,  they needed cleaning and painting

  

every  now and then because of all the steam and Michael not  opening  the

  

window  often  enough.  So Michael would go up the road to Fads  and  buy

  

five litres of white emulsion for a fiver, then scattering newspapers all

  

over the bathroom he'd attack the walls and ceiling. He soon got high and

  

had  a headache with all the paint fumes,  even though the window  was

  

wide  open,  the  radio  was blaring too,  he  always  had  music  on

  

constantly,  whether he was painting,  eating, washing shaving  or just

  

picking his nose. Michael's painting had more attack than finesse to it,

  

splash it here, splash it there, quantity more than quality, his father

  

had always told him to use a small amount on the brush,  a tiny amount,

  

but Michael always overloaded his brush,  paint was cheap after all,  a

  

tin  of paint only cost the price of a couple of pints and a bag of  chips

  

after all.      

  

         Once finished Michael was splattered in paint, his grey hair now

  

turned white,  his painting clothes,  now more paint than clothes,  his

  

watch  had a white thumb print on it,  his underpants had paint on too,

  

for  no  matter  what  he  did  he  was  always  hitching  his  jeans  and

  

consequently he had paint everywhere.  Michael stepped back to admire his

 

handiwork,  but being as the bathroom was so small he bumped into the bog

  

and ending up sitting on it.”It'll do” was his usual comment,  and it

  

would  have too,  he couldn't afford a real decorator. A fiver to do  his

  

bathroom,  but a decorator would charge 100 times that and take days, it

  

took Michael an hour and a half tops,  he'd finish in time for Star  Trek

  

and that was important,  he had his priorities right.  So looking at his

  

splattered  watch,  Michael gathered up the paint  splattered  newspaper

  

which was protecting his fancy carpet.  The only trouble though was  the

  

fact that his shoes were stuck to the newspapers,  so Michael had to  sit

  

on the bog and pull the newspaper off his shoes,  invariably a spot or two

  

of  paint  stayed on the carpet.  So Michael had rub hard  to  clean  the

  

carpet,  and  take his shoes off so that he  wouldn't  leave  footprints

  

everywhere. ”Ah it'll do,” repeated Michael as he looked back at  the

  

bathroom from the safety of the kitchen,  he'd then strip off and put all

  

his  painting clothes into the washing machine, invariably the light  was

  

fading now, so Michael had the kitchen light on, so his neighbours would

  

be  treated to the dubious  privilege of seeing Michael naked  and  paint

  

spattered standing in his kitchen.

 

          Star  Trek  was great as usual,  Michael  only  recognised  the

  

metaphors  after the show,  but he really enjoyed the show,  he'd  been

  

watching it for 30 years now, the original and then the follow on shows.

 

After  his  dinner Michael ventured back into the bathroom, ”Who  needs

  

decorators,  the  thieving bastards".  Michael was satisfied  with  his

  

handiwork,  it'd do till the next time.  The next time came,  when  the

  

carpet was manky,  so Michael threw out the carpet and searched under the

  

bed in the spare room,  that’s where he kept the rest of the carpet.  As

  

luck  would  have  it there was just enough to cover  the  bathroom  floor

  

again. So once more he got out the dangerous scissors and cut the carpet  to

  

shape,  and yes he did do a good job of it, carpet fitting he could do,

  

it was painting he was useless at. Jackson Pollark, the artist who threw

  

paint  at  the canvas would have been impressed by  Michael's  bathroom,

  

anybody else would have said, ”was there an explosion?"

 

        So time passed and the carpet was manky, so Michael threw it out,

 

so what would he do next?  He hit upon the brilliant idea of painting the

  

concrete floor.  It only took half an hour and then ”hey presto" he had a

  

redecorated bathroom,  only he hadn't thought of one thing. What happens

  

when you paint a floor white? It shows all the dirt, and it shows up all

  

the spiders that are not spiders,  if you know what I mean.  So  Michael

  

improvised,  he was good at improvising, 20 years as a computer operator

  

and he'd leant to improvise,  if nothing else.  So he painted the  floor

  

blue,  that colour wouldn't show up spiders that weren't spiders. And he

  

was  right.  He had another problem now,  because  he'd  used  ordinary

  

emulsion,  when it got wet, it came off, so soon the soles of Michael's

  

slippers  went  blue,  and soon the blue was spattered with  white,  as

  

toothpaste and soap suds stained the blue floor. Michael persevered, he

  

painted the floor blue every couple of weeks or so,  blue paint was  more

  

expensive than white,  but the one tin enabled him paint it ten times or

  

so. Eventually the walls needed painting again,  so Michael thought  he'd

  

try blue on the walls,  only it was too dark,  he didn't like it,  and

  

more to the point he ran out of paint halfway through.  So he went up  to

  

Fads again for white,  though he was nearly tempted  into buying a  soft

  

coloured paint as it was half price, but after a bit of soul searching he

  

stuck with white, five litres for a fiver.

 

         Another  problem reared its head,  if you try  painting  over  a

  

strong colour, the colour underneath shows through. So on Boxing Day 98

 

Michael spent the day painting, or smearing as his mother used to call it

  

,  he spent the day smearing two coats of white over the blue. And yes it

  

did look dreadful.  New Years Eve came and Michael's bathroom was covered

  

in copies of the Telegraph,  it was a good read with great coverage, why

  

just one copy was enough to cover all Michael's floor, he'd have to write

  

to  the editor to thank him.  So Michael got drunk on New Year's Eve  and

  

ended  up dancing with his friend Dave,  Dave being a Helmult  Khol  look

  

alike.  Once home with a hangover,  Michael realised that in the morning

  

he'd have to give another coat or two to the bathroom.  Michael could see

  

the  light  at the end of the tunnel,  or rather the bottom of  the  five

  

litre tin of paint,  once he finished the tin, the job would be finished

  

whether  it was finished or not,  the job would be finished.  He'd  had

  

enough, and he had a massive headache due to the paint fumes.  

  

       “Finished,  at last,  thank God,” yelled Michael, yes he

  

had come to the bottom of the tin, so finished or not, it was finished.

 

So Michael went and watched Star Trek on the satellite.  The bathroom took

  

forever to dry as it was Winter and the atmosphere was cold and wet.  So

  

it  was  a  couple  of  days before  Michael  could  finish  the  bathroom

  

transformation.  He found some old curtains he had in his pantry, he had

  

originally  bought them for the kitchen,  but once he got them  home  and

  

tried  hanging them he was annoyed to discover they were too  short,  so

  

they  had  ended up in his pantry on a shelf next to his  iron.  To  his

  

delight the new curtains were just the right length for his bathroom, and

  

they were nice and bright too.  So what to dod next?  Michael pulled the

  

panel out from in front of the bath, as luck would have it he had a spare

  

plastic shower curtain ; so he wrapped the panel in a new shower curtain,

  

a  flowery pattern on it,  and it would match the shower curtain he  had

  

already up. Finally as he had to lay the lino, the lino he swopped a new

  

pair of shoes for. His brother had some spare lino, and Michael as usual

  

had  a  spare  pair of shoes in his shoe mountain at  the  bottom  of  his

  

wardrobe.  So he got the lino,  and his brother got the shoes as a  Xmas

  

present,  they  had both laughed as they struck the  deal  during  their

  

regular  weekly   telephone conversation.  Their dead mother  would  have

  

approved too, ”look after each other" was her motto. There was one snag

  

though, Michael couldn't find his scissors, so how could he cut the lino?

 

So  he improvised with the bread knife,  a flash of the knife  here,  a

  

flash of the knife there, it was hard work, he was soon covered in sweat

  

but after 45 minutes he was finished.  So he just had to slip the freshly

  

covered  bath panel back in position.  So kicking it back in  position,

  

Michael  had finally transformed his bathroom.  Michael stepped  back  to

  

admire his handiwork, accidently knocking the bread knife down the toilet

  

but  he didn't hear the splash,  as the radio was blaring out a Nat  King

  

Cole  song ”Let there be Love".  Michael looked at his  freshly  painted

  

bathroom,  walls and ceiling had been painted,  new bright curtains were

  

hanging  down,  and the lino was new and bright too,  he had even put  a

  

layer of plastic and newspapers underneath to act as insulation,  and  he

  

had a little mat too that he could step on when he got out the bath.  Yes

  

it  was an utter transformation,  the best it had looked in the 12  years

  

he'd  lived there.  All this activity had made him really hungry,  he'd

  

bought a loaf from the bakery,  an old fashioned big tasty loaf,  all he

  

had  to do was cut it into big slices,  now where had he left  the  bread

  

knife?

 

 

 

                               End