Gulliver's Travels and Me

Gulliver’s Travels and Me ©

By

Michael Casey

I was thinking about what to write this New Year’s Eve. The past, the present, the future all spring to mind. Jack Black is in a movie Gulliver’s Travels this holiday season. So I thought I could use that as my starting point. Then “WOOSH” I remembered I once won a raffle, I won a copy of Gulliver’s Travels. I never won a raffle in my life but I did win that one. 42years ago and more, I was still wearing short socks with elastics to hold them up and short trousers too. There were only 6 or was it 8 of us in with a chance for the raffle.

The book didn’t change my life, it was a nice read at the time. The actual book was meant as a lecture, but we all forget/don’t know that now. If memory serves a war was brewing because one side opened their egg by the big end and the other opened their egg by the small end. Me I prefer scrambled eggs in the microwave, 2 minutes and you’re done, with lots of toast too, go to work on an egg used to be a very old advertising slogan.

Gulliver shows us that we are all afraid of things, and small things can make us all so very afraid. The shadow on the wall, or just being afraid of the dark, all these things spook us. Its so very hard getting children to sleep with the light off. So we compromise and have a night light for them, and maybe for us too. When we travel in some places the bedroom is as dark as a darkroom, but without any coloured safety light. Its total pitch black, so we compromise and have the bathroom light on, with the door  half closed, otherwise if we awake in the night we might think we’re dead, its just so very very dark. I know from my own holiday experiences, but I did also work in an hotel for 3years and when you do room checks the number of times it was pitch black because the curtains were left closed……

To some you are a giant, just like Gulliver, your kids think you are great and you make them laugh, they forgive you for telling them off on occasions. They stand on your toes and together you dance around the living room. How long will they see you this way, I hope forever, I always tell my kids to remember things, I’m encouraging them to build up a store of memories and laughter. Then in the future when I’m not there anymore they have this treasure chest of memories. I’m no Jack Sparrow but I hope I have more treasure than him, treasure that’ll last down the generations. Laughter is the greatest treasure I can give to my kids, I’m no giant, though I’m fat, Panzi FAT FAT BOY is my Chinese name after all, but a treasure chest full of laughter is what I try and add to every day.

The reverse of the coin is being small. Gulliver was small in the other half of the tale, we all sometimes forget the small people, those who beaver away in the background.

The little old ladies who teach choir, the lollypop ladies who save our kids from the selfish fast drivers who are on the phone as they drive. Today we have the New Years Honours and I for one hope the little people get their due. Little things in our lives can change and guide us to our futures. Advice we listened to once which changed our lives, such as “try computers” and then you end up with a nice job for 21years.

“Write a book”, so I wrote a book. Now I’ve written 3,  and I still need a publisher for my books not to mention a producer for my plays. “Why don’t you get engaged” was one such piece of advice, and now I am married with 2 girls. Those 3 small separate pieces of advice have changed my life. All of you reading this must have had somebody give advice or make ½ a suggestion, even if you were all drunk in a pub and somebody said “why not go on the Xfactor”, or “Go to London and seek your fortune”, it worked for Dick Whittington after all. So think big, thing small, have some travels Gulliver did, so why not you?

Christmas 2010, footprints in the snow (C)

Christmas Day 2010, footprints in the snow ©

By 

Michael Casey

I got a bit of the flu again this Christmas, so I wasn’t playing in  the snow but my girls were. They came in asking me to come out quick because they’d found a footprint in the snow. I wondered what they were on about. My big daughter had asked what was the hairy animal that left foot prints. She was talking about Bigfoot or a Yeti. 

Outside she showed me what she had seen, it was a footprint wider that a mans and longer too, with 4 toe prints, or so it looked. She said there was a 2nd footprint but it had disappeared. Perhaps it was Santa’s slay mark or was it one of his reindeer’s footprint or was it the sleigh itself leaving marks behind. I retreated indoors to the warm, then I suggested that my big daughter that she took a photo.

She took a photo, literally one. I then got an old file divider and folded it in half so that I could take a few photos with the file divider being a scale reference. Its hard photographing footprints or Yeti prints in the snow, its all too white. The impression in the snow was a large imprint only half an inch deep then a smaller imprint a bit deeper followed by the 4 toe prints. I include a photo below.

Now was it the Yeti in our back garden or was it Santa and the reindeer, just leaving one footprint as they hovered in our garden. Perhaps it was the Gruffalo itself, it was all a mystery. We talked about it while we had our duck and pancakes Christmas dinner, egg fried rice with king prawns will be our supper soon as we watch Dr Who, the new one the silly one as my girls call him. I punctuated the conversation with sneezes and wiping my nose.  Terry’s Chocolate Orange was our desert. Not very traditional but a good celebration if you have a Shanghai wife and two bilingual daughters.

We’re having a break from the tv after the Gruffalo, which gives me time to write this down and tell you all about the Yeti in Birmingham. Though having thought about it, it could just be  an impression in the snow made by a cat sitting down and stretching and scratching. Though we do have foxes near where we live and we have had a fox in our garden before. But as its Christmas Day I chose to believe it was Santa’s Sleigh just touching down momentarily, and if it wasn’t that it must have been a Birmingham Yeti. A Birmingham Yeti, now that would be something, I could organise coach trips and freeze the footprint and keep it in our freezer just next to the pizzas and the sea bass, I could charge a tenner a time to see the frozen evidence. And what if it was a Gruffalo? My small daughter did have an apple fall on her head while she was making a snow angel, so did the Gruffalo knock it off while he was trying to hide amongst the trees at the bottom of our garden? Was it her Isaac Newton moment?  Was it all her imagination, or was it mine?

Judge for yourself, here’s the photo.

 

My Lottery Numbers

My Lottery Numbers ©

By Michael Casey

Well Christmas is upon us and all our thoughts move towards a baby in a manger. Maybe 40years ago that was true, nowadays we all have a variety of different thoughts. My wife is telling tales of her youth back in Shanghai, tipping rice out of her bowl and landing on a neighbour’s washing below, pants with rice in them, the remainder of the rice landing on an old lady’s head. This was 30 years ago.

Other people wish and dream for a lottery win, just in time for Christmas. Me I play spasmodically, and yes I never win, I tend to play when there is a rollover, as if my chances will get any better then. I know I’ll never win the lottery, but spasmodically I waste a quid on it.

How do you pick those six numbers? The number of smiles you got on the bus in the morning, the number of times you fell on you’re a*&^% in the snow. The number of Z list celebrities who were featured in The Metro the on the bus newspaper, or the number of copies left strewn on the floor of the bus waiting for somebody to slip and twist their ankle on.

Or maybe it’s the number of attempts you have to make before your computer switches on at work. Or perhaps the number of people in your lift or how many got out on your floor, or even how many free cups of chocomilk you have in a week from the free vend machine.

Choosing a lottery number is a very engrossing thing. I have won a tenner very very occasionally. I once got an IM from Shanghai my small daughter gave me the winning numbers. So when she got home from her holiday I gave her the £10. Hover I’d much rather win enough to move house or even retire, then I could write all day everyday. But maybe the Fates are saving the Reading Public, God does have a funny sense of humour after all, he did make us Mankind after all.

So is there any hope or logic in lottery numbers, no, perhaps what I really need is for Vince Cable to introduce me to Rupert Murdoch and maybe then Rupert will discover my writing. Either that or my 33year old Premium Bond finally comes up trumps.

Merry Christmas Everybody

www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com to escape the Turkey.

 

 

The Chair

The Chair ©

 By

 Michael Casey

When we got married we  couldn’t afford much furniture, just a bed and an old armchair and a table to eat our dinner off. But that was fine my wife could always sit on my lap. That was nice and that was cosy and kept the fire going inside us and between us.

But when somebody sits on your lap the passion soon rises, and soon you’re both naked and soon babies will come. 

So the question is should I/we all of us not sit on laps and just buy a second chair. Its more civilised no doubt but a girl sitting on your lap leaning against to is much more fun. Don’t you agree.

What if you can’t afford any chairs, not even one? Is it better to sit on the floor doing Yoga positions? Would you both sit down cross legged and have serious conversations, and quote the Times, or would you both roll about and try something from the Sun?

So would it be better to buy a chair, or steal two deckchairs from a beach?

Furniture plays a major role in romance, a rocking chair is very romantic or even erotic, and when the babies come feeding a baby while rocking in a chair is such a nice feeling.

Your favourite chair, or an old suite donated by a friend is great, you can cuddle up together and watch tv, even if your wife thinks you’re like Homer Simpson, not the ancient Greek philosopher.

An old chair can be used  to stand on while you wash the windows or change a bulb. I used to have an old huge battered old chair that I sat in while I speak these lines to you. Now we have a more modern and smaller chair that I sit in while I share these words with you.

Perhaps when I’m very old I’ll have a commode for convenience   sake and my daughters will spray perfume. Nobody knows the future but I do really miss my rocking chair.

Christmas On A Bus

Christmas On A  Bus ©

By

Michael Casey

On a bus coming home the Christmas Story revealed itself to me, ordinary events on a cold  Winter’s evening.

There was a large man squeezed into a seat sitting crossways as he was so large, I squeezed in next to him, the two of us like boulders abandoned.

A small African child was singing a carol to her mum who was weighed down by worry and a carrier bag  larger than  the child, behind a bigger child was swinging her feet off the seat.

In front of me a child with  a large bright pretty ribbon in her hair was talking excitedly to her nan. Her nan was all wrapped up against the Winter weather, she was more like a parcel than a person She was giving sage advice to her granddaughter, don’t expect too much this Christmas.

There was a pretty teenaged too, she was  moving her ankle in her new clean boots, perhaps Christmas boots, she was speaking confidently to her ugly friend, pretty girls always have either a fat or ugly best friend, its Nature’s balance.

The African family got up it was their stop at the bus stop, I told the child to hold on tight to the rail as she moved forward only she was too small to understand fully.  My children are about their age I said to the child with the ribbon in her hair and her nan.

The large man squeezed in next to me started doing sign language to me, it was only then that I realised he was deaf and dumb. So I signed back to him. A few stops further on the dumb man as big as Gabriel himself got up as it was his stop, we exchanged goodbyes, “Good Luck” I said, he got off and waved goodbye from the street.

I heard a voice on a mobile, “we’ve got to go then or the graveyard will be shut, I want to give mum some flowers for Christmas.” All this represents Christmas,

your Christmas, My Christmas, Everybody’s Christmas. So take time out to speak  to the deaf, to share a smile, to remember your mum, for Christ is Born.

Talking to an Audience

Talking to an Audience ©

By

Michael Casey

The average speaker starts by saying “unaccustomed as I am to Public Speaking” and then he rattles off his talk.  I was sent on a presenting course back in 1998 this was a great course and after 2 days of training I had mastered the basics.

The trainer placed a few objects on the table, a pencil, a book, a pair of glasses and  several more random things. We had previously been shown how the expert did it now it was our turn. We were given 15mins to prepare then one by one we had to stand up and talk about the object we had chosen.

We all watched and then gave feedback, it was a group thing, we were all on the same team, it was a family we were there to help each other learn how to present. Talking for 5 mins can be scary when you’ve never done it before, but with training anybody can do it.

We repeated this exercise with different objects, we gave advice and encouragement to each other. Some were not as good as others, for some standing up and talking in front of another group of people was like being naked in front of people. Nobody was naked but it felt that way to the shy talkers.

Having Irish blood in me made it easier for me. Then we were all given the big challenge, the next day we had to stand up and talk for 15mins, on a subject of our own choosing. I decided to talk about my trip to Paris in the February just gone. So on the train from Oxford to Birmingham I started making out some Qcards, notes to help me with me talk the next day. I should explain I was working in Birmingham for ACNielsen but the head office was in Oxford and that’s where the training was. Caroline had been very generous and allowed me to go on the course just months before redundancy beckoned. If I’m honest I hoped the course would help me with my comedy writing.

The next day I was on a train my Qcards all ready, I rehearsed and rehearsed, then I got to Oxford and ACNielsen HQ.  I think I was last to talk, or should I say perform. I told them that I had chosen hotel on the advice of JC, only JC had forgotten to tell me it was in a red light area by Gare du Nord Paris.

Being a lad I had a Chinese an lots of wine, before staggered all over Paris and down the Metro, at the Eiffel Tower my camera was bust, I was using my schoolboy French trying to get the girl in the box office under the Eiffel Tower to fix my camera. I decided a kebab was a good idea after my night time look at Paris. That was a mistake, the Chinese and wine and a kebab all mixed, and made me violently ill. My bathroom was like a wardrobe that you climbed into for both the toilet and a shower. I was as sick as a pig. In the morning I found a pharmacy. “Avez vous des asprin de bas prix” I asked. In exchange I was given a box which said “asprin tamponee” I opened the box and inside was a tube with extra strong mint sized asprins, asprins that fizzed. So I had to find a drink and wash the asprins down, I must have looked like a rabid dog.

I continued with my tale, my audience in fits of laughter. I was nearing the end of my tale when I was stopped. “How many minutes have you done?” asked the trainer. “15” I replied. In fact I had done 30mins. So I think I passed the test, I can present.

3 days later I was in the Czech Republic, my penfriend was giving me a look at Pilsner her home town, the home of lager itself. She had a class and would I, could I talk to them, she was an English teacher you see. So there I was in front of 25 students, so I stood up and presented off the cuff for 90minutes.

I think that proves I had a good teacher in Oxford. My trip to Pilsner gave me an idea for a piece of writing, Czech Story, which proved to be one of the best and funniest pieces of writing I have ever done. Its good because its true. I suppose all art is best when it  draws from life. Shall we leave it there for tonight……………..

A New Page, a new leaf

Well I'm hoping for big things next year  2011. So I'm kind of restarting my blogging here on Multiply. I've created a book of blogs, a selection of 100 blogs. So that means I have 3 finished books and a 4th still being written:-

The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker   

Essays and Plays                                       

MichaelCasey'sBlogs2011

Tears For A Butcher

Tears For A Butcher carries on the next day after Butcher  Baker Undertaker finishes. I'm having lots of fun dreaming up this book. Now all I  need is a few quid to support myself while I have a year off to write it. 

I won't be attaching any attachments to my future blogs, but I will be sharing my blogs with MySun and MyTelegraph as usual.

Window Shopping

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 20watches 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 its 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.

WikiLeaks and all that

WikiLeaks and all that ©

By Michael Casey

WikiLeaks is making the headlines the world over. WikiPedia  its near namesake is very inaccurate, Lenny Henry did a piece about it in his Comedy Show which I watched the other night. Now while I’m talking about Lenny who was born just up the road from where I’m speaking from, he did a 2 part radio play on Radio4 about a washed out Police Padre , now that play deserves to be transferred to TV, so everybody email The Sun and see what we can do.

WikiLeaks shows what can happen when somebody has too much access to military computer systems, and it also proves that the system was not tested enough or at all. The average person at home looks after their computer and their data. Its no use boasting how great a computer system is if its not tested. We have a British citizen who broke into Nasa and other US military computers because he was looking for UFO evidence. Now if he was a terrorist I could understand the USA anger, but he was a simple man who should not be extradited and sent to jail. He should be rewarded for proving how rubbish the security was, he should be given  a job to help sort out the security. The poacher turned gamekeeper approach. I bet the majority of people, lets say 85% would agree with me.

Wikileaks shines a light on diplomacy and its many arts. Some things that have been said we all know would be said anyway. But its embarrassing for these facts to come out. The pot has been stirred and lots of *&^% has hit the fan. Its like a couple of girls in the bathroom saying horrible things about a friend not knowing she was in a cubicle behind them. In films the girls kiss and make up, or the girl gets revenge or  the girl realises she’s a dork and she changes for the better. Sandra Bullock would no doubt star she’d be the girl in the cubicle.

International relations are not about girls in the bathroom, the world is a dangerous place. We have folks who are arming with dangerous toys. Nuclear weapons are the ultimate phallic system, if we could make a wish upon a star we’d all wish them away. Some people love Miami beach others think its dangerous full of dangerous people, others prefer Fort Lauderdale, so it goes with international relations. We have friends who protect us, ie. USA but we don’t want our other friends knowing this.

I was brought up never to tell a lie, are International relations about lies and deceit? Or is it all about the real world, you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. Only South Africa gave up the Nuclear phallic, any chance North Korea and Iran will do the same? 

We can all dream and we can all pray, my god is not better than your god. There is only One God and his name is “dad” or “abba” its to him we should all be praying, begging our one God to take away the Evil of trophy nuclear weapons. This is something worthy for all of us to do this Advent season, a new life a new hope is born at Christmas, for without hope the certainty is that someday we’ll all see an atomic flash on the horizon, which would prove we are just a planet of apes.

Just for fun vote on the best photo of me plus your favourite piece of writing

                                                                                                                      

Whats 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 

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.

Counting Money

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

www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com

 

We Are Words

We have 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

If Music Be The Food Of Love

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 2^nd 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.  

Bring On The Tears

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 Cane it was Rosebud the sledge  that meant so much when Cane 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.

*******

well the 4 photos show the 4 of us, our family

Journalism and All That

Journalism and All that

Well the new look  Telegraph site  is all sleek and “sexy”, though it still stops me commenting in the right spot, so here’s something in the wrong spot.

I read the article about US v UK journalism it was a good read. But as we all know CNN is just a travelogue, I was in Shanghai on a family holiday in 2007 when Iran kidnapped some UK sailors. My only news source was CNN and the coverage was rubbish, and I mean rubbish. Piers Morgan taking over from Larry King, good luck to him, Piers makes entertaining shows, worth a look but still lightweight. Very watchable, but if somebody wants to give me half his resources then I can do better.

From what I’ve seen of US journalism they are all pompous when on tv, and when I used to read the NYT via internet the articles were too long, just as preachers sermons can be too long. Just get to the point. Yes I’ve enjoyed their journalism too, I can also say sometimes in The Daily Telegraph the article is too long as well.

Articles should have the Goldilocks factor, not too hot, not too cold, not too hard, not too soft, but just right. They should appeal to both the Sun reader and The Telegraph reader, and if I may copy US tv, Michael Casey’s blogs appear in both MySun and MyTelegraph not to mention www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com Happy Reading viewers.

Below are our photos, the modern Adams Family

Football Crazy

I speak as a football naive, I've only been to two matches in my life. It was Villa v Arsenal and Villa v Derby maybe 12 years ago.

But as I said to Barry at the time the crowd was alive, it was like a hugh cat moving and swaying reacting to the play on the pitch. The 1st match I was above the goal very high up. The 2nd match I was with Chris in the middle just a few rows up. Live football cannot be beaten, I cann't really explain how it looks and how it feels. Its like you're in a hugh jelly that you put on the washing machine and then somebody switches the washing machine on, so you wobble and wobble and  you have no control. Thats what a football crowd feels like. So much mass movement, so much excitement, 50,000 people  screaming and shouting, laughing and crying. The grass so very very green.

This is live football and when you have a master, and here you can take your pick from any team, ManU, Villa, Chelsea and all the other teams. When you have a master on the pitch it really is The Theatre Of Football. Act One, Act Two and even a few dodgy acts trying to impress the Ref, all of this is football. Live is always best. We've just moved up to a new big lcd tv this year, the difference to everything and to football is amazing. I imagine Sky's 3D is going to be totally fantastic too. Footballers are today's Gladiators, instead of Nero or any other Caesar raising his thumb  or condemning  to death, now we have Sir Alex, and the other managers raising their thumbs from their honoured position in the stands. It's an old quote but a true one, "is it a matter of life or death?" No its more important than that.

I have a lot to learn about football, but I do know one thing, the game is better when all of the players are on the pitch

in their natural area and not in self imposed "cages" whatever those "cages" are. For footballers  are like lions, they are born free, free as the wind, chasing and ducking and diving, their prey is the football, and the net is their home.

Teddy Bear Cull

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.

Terra Cotta Army not in China but a copy in Germany near Frankfurt/Wellburg

I was there in 2008 its well worth a look

From Fireworks to The Grave

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 Haloween 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 friends 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’mdead,” 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

My Armchair

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.multiply.com 

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 newpaper 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.multiply.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 sooner 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.

Mongolia Mines and Hearts

Mongolia Mines and Hearts ©

By Michael Casey

 

I was reading The Daily Telegraph today and there was a good article in it about Mongolia and its mineral  wealth. Basically China its buying up all the mineral reserves.

Next door in Russia there are tons of reserves too. Black Gold or oil is washing its way from Russia to China. I remember what somebody once said to me, History is Geography, or maybe a History teacher said it in a class. But it is so so true, History is Geography.

China has invested its time and money around the world trying to secure its mineral resources as well as the oil that its economy needs. It is not trying to export democracy or anything else. As Cuba has learnt you can export doctors and you’ll gain brownie points, China builds schools and infrastructure, it builds the things that will aid China. The Big China is the key the way forward and nothing will get in the way. Having a Shanghai wife I’ve seen directly and indirectly just how busy China is with its development. Forward is the motto for Birmingham where I’m talking from, it is also the motto for China.

Everybody wants to progress, see the photo below that’s where my mum was born and lived till she was 12 years old, along with her 6 siblings and her parents. My mum’s brother Tim died  of rickets at age 7

 So now the wheel of History has turned, China wants to progress. In the 1870s we had the scramble for Africa, it was literally a carve up look at the straight lines on the map of Africa. Everybody wanted their place in the sun, now its 2010 and it’s an economic place in the sun. Offering Democracy and baseball is a bit naïve, or reminding people of Laurence Of Arabia is naïve too. What matters to people is clean water and schools, if you start there then expand from there perhaps you stand a better chance of winning hearts and minds.

Technology may have to be given away too, if you want to save the planet then industrial  nuclear technology will have to be shared. I read recently about some element that when used powered a nuclear plant without weapons grade leftovers. I think it was in the Telegraph. It seemed to be a magic wonder pill. Technology is the future for the traditional industrial powers, they need to get over having their clothes stolen by China and other emerging powers. My dad started as a blacksmith in County Kerry Eire and then spent his life in a steelworks in Smethwick. None of his children worked in factories, we the next generation move on. My novel is set in Old Forge and Singing Anvil as a tribute to my blacksmith dad, it also evokes a time a period that no longer exists, that’s the charm of it. In the real world though the sun has risen in the East.

Which Way Do You Look?

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, its like the Titanic, all  fog and mist. Some take refuge in drink or worse, glass ½ full or glass ½ empty, or maybe the glass is just not big enough. Your prospective influences how you cope with things.

You can look forward by looking at the property pages on www.rightmove.co.uk if only you get more money then you’ll move house, even if it would really be a lottery win amount of money. You can look forward  more realistically by looking at argos and currys and comet and do some window shopping for the things you really need to replace once the money comes in again. A new cooker perhaps, a new living room carpet, perhaps a fridge, or just upgrade the central heating boiler. All these are looking forward.

I look back a fair bit, because I have lots of memories  and spent a lot of time with my dad in his good years and his fading years in the old people’s home, you can find out more by reading Padre Pio and Me on www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com I have almost total recall for my family events. I’m the one who remembers  all the family growing up things. When my brother went to University he bought our little sister a tricycle, it was £5, that was good use of student grant, over 40 years ago. Now my own daughter has ambitions to go to that University. My younger daughter had a tricycle too, I got it as a gift from a toy show that passed through a hotel where I was working a few years ago.

I think having memories is good, it certainly means I have material to write about, growing up with lodgers for example. I look back with love and think just much love we got from our parents. “You are as good as anybody” is what I can remember my mum saying, proud and defiant she was, for her love was a nuclear weapon. Mothers know how to use nuclear weapons, their love really is that powerful. I have an  idea for Tears For A Butcher my 3^rd book, if ever I get to write it. A mother’s Nuclear Weapons will feature, I just hope I get to share it with you, let’s look forward together.

 Me and the wife In Frankfurt Aug 2008

  

Steptoe and Son

Steptoe and Son

By

Michael Casey

I was watching the telly and Steptoe and Son was on one of the Sky Channels, it took me back years, almost as many years as to when I was as old as my kids are now. So a long time ago, 40 plus years ago.

It was the episode where the dad was sick in bed with a bad back, I’ve hurt my back in the past so I could empathise. But it was the humour where the dad was exploiting his son, Harold was at his dad’s beck and call. “Harold” this and “Harold” that. Finally the son realised what was going on, somebody had drunk his lager and he was sure it wasn’t the horse, so it must be his dad upstairs. Harold got his revenge  and gave his dad a blanket bath with surgical spirits, which was like setting fire to his naughty bits. So he ended up sitting in the kitchen sink to douse the pain.

Last week it was the famous episode where the old dad and the son were playing scrabble, X certificate scrabble and the Vicar came to visit. The vicar got Harold to write a history of Rag and Bone Men. The dad sulked but did a cross word puzzle for the Vicar’s magazine. When the magazine was published the Vicar was arrested because the cross word puzzle was obscene.

This is classic  comedy and I’m glad Sky has it on one of their channels. It takes me back to when I was young. It also reminds me just how well it was written, some of modern comedy is just not funny. Personally I don’t find the Office funny at all. I still dream that someday some of the comedy I write gets on tv. If Steptoe still makes  us laugh then it is a testament to just how good it is. My kids saw a bit of tonight’s show they laughed, so that’ll be 3 generations of Casey’s who like Steptoe, I can remember my mum laughing like a banshee when it was on. If there are any producers out there Shoplife would make great tv and be a cash cow at the theatre www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com is where it can be found.  Old iron, old iron…..

 

Dr Who

Dr Who

I remember watching Dr Who when I was a child, where have all those years gone?

It is more of a film now than TV. It is great family entertainment too, but don’t  say it’ll make kids interested in science and change the world. Yes one or two may get an interest in science because of it, but it is what it is, entertainment.

The scripts vary a lot, you can get rubbish episodes, such as the fat monsters that went into space, those white little bars of soap things. I think Steven Moffat’s  episodes were the best written as a whole, not unless he wrote  the fat one.

Saturday’s wouldn’t be Saturdays without a bit of Dr Who, I think his name is Sue, as in the Johnny Cash song.

The Dr Who confidential shows are interesting and do show just how committed everybody is to the show, but they also display a  flaw. When they rehearse and talk about the episode their passion is far greater than when you see the final thing on a Saturday night.

Perhaps they cannot see the wood for the trees, or perhaps I’m just a little too old to be caught in the spiders web the story spins. I know from my own tv viewing that a  film can never match an original book. I know when I write and think how my stuff might appear on tv/film that the nuances die when transfered to film, a book and a film are very different mediums.

Dr Who with Matt Smith is good and I loved how Amy’s boyfriend waited 2000 years for her and punched Dr Who on the chin, she WAS worth waiting for. The threesome  does work and I’d love to be in it as the fat guy sat on a bench slobbering over his food  as Dr Who or should I say Sue walks by, I do look a bit like Alfred Hitchcock after all, and he was in all his own films.