Politics(c) by Michael Casey

Politics(c)

By Michael Casey

They are all Bananas
They think they are the Biggest Apple
The Berries think they should have a turn.
I don't trust any of them.
Apples are the brightest the shinyest family.
Bananas are just as bent and crooked as thier name.
Berries are just small fry and should be squashed.
Only Apples and Bananas have a right to rule.
A divine right to rule just like in England.
But we left England for freedom here.
And what did we get?
Apples and Bananas and those small fry Berries.
And we still keep on electing them.
The Apple family goes back years.
The Banana family came over on the Mayflower.
AS for the Berries, some say they are the bastard child of an Apple and a Banana.
So how should I vote Grandma?
Vote with your heart, and ignore all the bastards, Apple,Banana and Berries.
Just vote with your heart, but do vote only 1/4 of the population actually voted for the president. The opposition got just under 25% and 50% never even voted.
But Grandma its too complicted, I think I might join the 50% and NOT bother.
Thats all right little Michael, you're only in 4th grade after all.
I think I'll just punch the Apples, Bananas and the Berries, what do you say Michael?
Violence Grandma, is never justified, that's what the teacher says, but she's a bully.
Ok, I'll punch all of the fruitcakes, Apples,Bananas, Berries and all of the fruits,
Then I'll put it in the blender and then in a container, you can bring it to school.
That'll be great grandma, a mixed fruit punch for the school President elections.
Now give your grandma a kiss, and never trust any fruits.

Are You Ready Yet?

Are You Ready Yet ? (c)

By Michael Casey

Now I don’t know about you, but I believe being on time is a must, it’s not optional it’s a must. Some people would be late for their own funeral, who are you thinking of now?

Different cultures have different views of time, our priest says that Shona people are very relaxed about Time, 11 may mean 12 or 12:30, but at 1pm they have Shona Mass in our church. Italians and Mediterranean people are more relaxed about Time too. I imagine the Swiss are absolutely sticklers for time, that’s why they make so many watches. In the olden days, as in the days when Knights were bold only candles told the time. A notch on the candle told the monks when to get up. The clocks were invented, but they only had an hour hand on. Time was different.

Was it Mussolini who invented being on time, at least the trains run on time was an excuse for Fascism. We know wrist watches were invented because it was a quicker way to look at your watch when you were in the slime of the trenches of the Great War, the War to End all Wars.

Fashion arrived and watches went everywhere, in all meanings of that word. I as you know love watches and one day I’ll have a fancy automatic watch. But I have side-tracked myself, Are you Ready Yet is really about dads and their families.

Everybody up, we’re going on holiday.

But its only 5am dad.

Move, out of bed quickly, or we’ll be late.

Groans from half -awake children and the wife.

The taxi will be here soon to take us on holiday to Malta.

But I’m need more sleep dad.

You can sleep in the taxi.

The taxi is not till 6.30  dad.

And the plane isn’t till 9 dad.

You have to be on time.

Mum appears and the 3 of they discuss in Chinese why dad is so stupid, and how they were having a great dream till they were woken up.

Dad I was dreaming about Winnie the Pooh

When does she not dream about Winnie the Pooh, muses dad.

Quick downstairs, eat and shower and then I must turn the gas and water off while we were away.

WE all had a shower last night, we can shower when we get to Malta.

Go on eat then, encourages dad.

It’s too early to eat, we can snack at the airport.

Its 5:10 you should all be ready by now, says dad as he pulls the covers off his 3 girls.

Rise and Shine, Shake a Leg, he continues as if his girls were in the Navy of long ago, that’s where Shake a Leg comes from after all.

5:30 everybody is still in bed. Dad is pacing up and down.

You’ll miss the plane, he intones. Its 5:55 he lies.

As one 3 girls bounce out of bed like Tiger from Winnie the Pooh, in seconds he is crowded out of the bathroom. Dad mutters if only he had his own bathroom, one day, one day, when he wins the lottery.

At 5:55, the real 5:55am all are ready, so dad goes on the internet, now they nag him, he’ll miss the plane etc.

6:15 all are ready and standing by the front door waiting for the taxi to hoot. Dad runs around switching off water and gas. He did see the Home Alone film, so ever since them he switches everything off.

Dad decides to have a final visit to the bathroom, his trousers are still down when the taxi hoots.

Are you ready yet scream his 3 girls with glee. Dad has to sort himself out in the bathroom, only he forgotten he’s turned the water off already. So he has to turn the water back on just so he can wash his hands, then turn it off again.

Are you ready yet shout his 3 girls with glee, using all different accents from tv. Daddy’s trousers fall down, because in his haste he has not done the belt properly, it’s a shock for the taxi driver.

3 girls laugh, that’s why they love him so much, their clever and stupid dad.

See perfect timing says dad, its 6:30 exactly.

Yes daddy, perfect timing, but Are YOU ready yet.

3 Way Ping Pong

3 Way Ping Pong©

By Michael Casey

I have a friend, two actually, on FaceBook who inspire me, we make each other laugh. They are in New York and have American accents I suppose, me, I’m in Birmingham, the English one. Though in Birmingham we pronounce it “Bermingum”, no long drawn out BirmmingggHAAM. Is the saying a common people divided by a language? Or maybe the other way around.

Now E & S, I’m protecting their identities, as their children may disapprove of them talking to strangers. Now E & S live together, they are related, me I’m in Birmingham with a Shanghai wife and two bilingual daughters. E & S speak and write American English, me I read/write English English. However there can be days and I mean whole days when all I hear is Chinese, as my wife screams to her mom in Shanghai. Chinese people are very loud, especially over the Internet.

So if you like E & S are my refuge. Good morning I’ll start with, as I put my bowler hat on and open my umbrella, it’s always raining in England after all. I may send a link from a newspaper over here, and they reply with a link from over there. Ping replied with Pong. Now first E may reply before S counters, it’s like having two pitchers at the Red Socks, so occasionally I have to duck.

Now E and S are poets and writers, E has a big vocabulary, luckily I have a very big dictionary, and best of all the Internet makes everybody a spelling bee, and I can find out the meaning too. Being over here she cannot see the expression on my face when I don’t know the meaning of her big words. While she is typing her next sentence I can run for the dictionary and/or Wikipedia, so I can smoothly and effortlessly seem intelligent, when it’s my turn to return service.

So this goes on, with photos of what S has baked or made for their breakfast. I’m putting the pounds on and that’s just by looking at S’s photos of cakes galore. So S is a poet, writer and baker. Then splat, is it E returning service over the cyber table tennis table? No it’s a photo of pancakes that they are having for breakfast. I’m sure my Internet connection is slowing down due to all the maple syrup in the status updates.

E will say something and I will repost as I move closer to the net, S will make another comment distracting me from my left hand side. Then Taiwan or Arab friends pop up with news, and I’ll comment on Esol English  lists, I’m jumping from here to there, hither to thither, now how do I explain those two words to Esol English students.

I have a new post to share so I post it, after putting it on my own site www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com In nanoseconds and I’m not exaggerating E has read it, she’s an executive editor, she reads fast. S told me once E was at the dentist and somebody dropped a magazine and before it hit the floor E had read it.

So this is how I use the Internet and FB too. FaceBook is a form of Ping Pong, and Ping is an IT word after all. Ping Pong is how FaceBook works, and don’t forget I have a Shanghai wife so I know all about Ping Pong.

Now what about FaceBook itself? Well Facebook is a 3 ring circus, with high wire acts, with juggling, with lion taming, and not forgetting the clowns. And the staff? They are roadies, they set up the tent, allowing me, E and S not to mention the 1,000,000,000 rest of you to play the game.

Now I know a thing or two about roadies, when I was a concierge at CPNEC we had the Arena next door. Roadies stayed at the hotel. All of them wear shorts and they have tattoos on their calves, it’s too hot to wear long trousers. So I can reveal this final piece of information, Mark Zuckerberg has tattoos on his calves. If you don’t believe me just go ask him, does he ever roll up his trouser legs when he’s paddling at the beach?  Ping Pong.

Relief and Recharge

Relief and Recharge©

By Michael Casey

“Thank God for that” we say when things are sorted and over. The electric bill isn’t really £500 or something like that, I can actually remember when we were kids that we had a huge gas or was it electric bill. Anyway it was one of them, the meter had been read then a week later we got the bill. In those days everybody had meters that had dials and the meter man came to your house to read them, then you got a bill. One of our meters needed a chair to be read as it was 8 feet off the ground, the other one was in a cupboard on the ground, maybe it was the electric one then, come to think of it. You’d have to be a basketball player to read it properly.

Mum was shocked, dad just cursed them as idiots, this was in the 1960s now, Ali was king, men were heading for the moon, and I was still wearing short pants, and long socks with elastic in them, before I was Head Boy at school even. Mom said we’d have to walk back and forth to school as we could not afford to use the bus if the electric bill really was that big. So we scrimped and saved until dad’s words came true. It was a misread meter, so the meter was reread and we were recharged and relieved.

That’s just one example of relief. A woman may think she is expecting a baby and then she isn’t, who is more relieved, her or the boyfriend too young to shave.

We study for an exam and we are so relieved when what we revised for actually came up. Somebody we know studied for A level Geography and then as she turned over the paper what did she see, only the exact same thing she had revised the night before. And yes she did get an A, she is my clever niece after all.

You’re walking down the street, its dark, you are on your own, you see three or four shadows walking towards you, you are scared, you don’t know should you turn around and walk or even run the opposite way. Then the shadows in appear the light of a streetlamp, they raise their hands, are they going to punch you, you, you close your eyes and pray. Then as one they all speak    “Good Evening Sir,” you look at their faces you haven’t seen them in years, but they know you, you were their teacher long ago. So relief pours out of you in a sigh.

All kinds of relief can happen, it’s afterwards that we pray and thank God for an exam passed, for a husband found, for getting that job finally. After relief we have to recharge our batteries, just as in horror films they kill the baddie and then have a fag or share a victory drink. For some of us we make a donation to charity or give that annoying beggar a fiver, just because we are so relieved the panic is over. Thank you God, I know I don’t pray much, ok, maybe never, but if I had the words I would say a prayer of thanks. And maybe it’s then that God’s relieved because we have not forgotten Him.

Pilgrimage(c)

Pilgrimage©

By Michael Casey

Our first avowed intent, to be a Pilgrim, so the song or should I say hymn goes. Pilgrimage is what you make of it, I can only speak for what I know as a catholic with a small c. Other Faiths with a capital F go on Pilgrimage too,  it’s part of their Faith. A Pilgrimage IS a thing of joy, I’ve been to Lourdes 3 times myself, each time was fun.

In 1966 we all went as a family on the train to Lourdes, it’s a very long journey, and along the way we had a misadventure. We stopped somewhere and dad said he’s buy us all a small bottle of pop, this was before plastic bottles were invented, so he asked for 8 bottles. The train consisted of the Birmingham Pilgrimage, 400 people or more. Once the vendor had passed the bottles through the window he asked for the payment in Francs, that’s when Francs still existed. The price was sky high as the vendors had a captive audience so to speak, so dad said “bollocks” and handed them all back. Dad handed back 7, the vendor asked where was the 8^th, an argument ensued,  the vendor came on the train to search the compartment. He searched and searched and condemned us all, the whole Birmingham Pilgrimage took umbrage. The 8^th bottle must have been handed back already. The train pulled off, the Birmingham Pilgrimage loads of people gave the finger to the vendor as the train pulled away. Very Holy of them all, people came and shared their drinks with us, united we stand. Us kids ranged in age from 16,14,12,11,7 and 3 oh I remember it all, just as Maurice Chevalier would. Half an hour later mum shifted from her corner position.   A miracle the 8^th small glass bottle of pop  was revealed, she had been sitting on it. So it was drunk and the evidence was thrown out the window.  So father forgive us and the entire Birmingham Pilgrimage 1966.

We stayed in hotel Biarritz which was  very good, I remember it was said, I also remember dad reminding us years later that the priest said enjoy the first meal. The other meals that week, we did not like, it was French food, why couldn’t it be English food, it was 1966 remember. Nobody had an experienced palate 47 years ago, was it really that long ago, yes it was. My younger sister would not take off her anorak, just like in East is East . She was bought a wind up toy, a rabbit that clashed cymbals, she loved it, until we got home and the head fell off, but still crashed cymbals.

All this is part of the Pilgrimage experience, and yes we had to eat outside the hotel, so it was a week of baguettes, we took a knife from the hotel with us, we had baguettes and butter or should I say beurre  every day, I forgot to say we put bananas in them to make them filling. Eight of us wandering around like the Von Trappe family, eating baguettes and beurre, I can still see dad in his habitual sports coat.

Lourdes really is a special place, you get up and after breakfast, we did like the rolls, after breakfast you go to Mass, then you wander around till dinner time, after that the afternoon procession where you sing hymns in many languages. Then you wander around till dinner, the after dinner the absolute best bit as far as kids are concerned, The Torchlight Procession in the Dark. You cannot imagine just how exciting this is for a kid, in the dark with a candle in a foreign language in a foreign land. This was before ½ the family became bilingual, was Lourdes the spark for Linguistics in our family. The Ave Maria IS the most touching of hymns, candles and prayers, we loved it.

Lourdes is  holy water, so you drink the water by the gallon and you can even bathe in it. They have giant candles too as big as a man, it’s like a  furnace as you walk past and pray, for dad who worked in a furnace it was a home from home.  Does the Pilgrimage magnify Faith, yes it does, it is a great big adventure, I was 7 not quite 8 at the time. I remember racing against the lift by running and bouncing down the stairs next to it, I think I won. We bought a giant plastic container and filled it with Holy Water to bring back and share, it must have held 15 pints if you compare the size to a modern milk bottle. We had it in the front bedroom at home for years. So those are my 1966 memories.

In 1981 that’s 15 years later I returned to Lourdes, this time just me and my sister, I had promised to take her to France if she passed her A levels, she did so I took her to Lourdes, it was our mum’s idea because we couldn’t decide which past of France. She didn’t have an anorak this time, we had a great time. We were adopted by a Manchester group as we had not joined any parish Pilgrimage, so we tagged along with them for Masses and processions. We are even on their group photo, they even had a flag bearer, “I wondered what belly button was for, it’s for flag pole” said one man. I still have that photo which is 32 years ago now. Now Lourdes is a special place, the priest with the group was called Fr. MacKarty, we got talking, as you do, it turned out our uncle Danny in Kerry used to steal his bicycle and ride it, Fr. MacKarty had a bike and nobody else did at the time, this must have been in the 1930s. So what are the chances of that happening?

We also found a great café where we had croche monsieur and croche madame, which are egg sandwiches or something, which we loved. We found the Irish hotel too, which meant we’d go there for a sing song and a beer after the torchlight procession, before going home to our own hotel. There’s also a trip to a lake where you are almost in Spain, and we went on a paddle boat there. I nearly forgot another trip takes you to a bridge, where legend says if you walk over that bridge you will get pregnant.

All in all lots to do when you are not just praying. I did go to Lourdes again in 1990. You may think I’m not being serious about Pilgrimage, if I wrote about just Prayer nobody would read this. We each make a daily Pilgrimage every day in every way we pray and hope in our daily life. Life is a journey, and as we make that journey we bring our prayers with us, we pray for this and we pray for that. WE may even want something and think it wrong to pray for it, should I pray for a nice house and finally to make a living as a full time writer? Please God don’t, some of you may be screaming at the computer as you read it. Isn’t it enough  he bores us with these blog or his shorts as he calls them.

A Pilgrimage is a hope, it’s a sign of piety and love, it’s us giving in and asking God to take over and help us, but   let his will be done. One final thing for those of you who don’t pray much or can’t find the right words, who don’t know how to pray, you are praying already, for what did Saint Francis of Assisi say  Labore est Orare, to Work is to Pray.

90 Seconds with Michael or why my Shorts should be on the Radio

Hello , how about a Verbal Cartoon for   RADIO

I grew up listening to the radio, we all used to hide under the blankets and listen when we should have been fast asleep. Radio did change my life, a lodger gave us a radio when he had to go back to Ireland to look after his sick mum. In fact he left all his stuff and caught the first boat home. Months later he came back to see us and said me and my brother could have his old Bush radio. I spent 20 years listening to radio. That and being afraid of Mr Gallagher when I was 8 changed my life, and improved my intellect.

Today after 20 years of radio and 25 years if writing, 45 years in total I think I'm a good writer, and thank God so do others. Yes I'm 54 now, in my head I'm 20, though my wife would say 12.

I met my Shanghai wife in the old people's home, she was cleaning my dad's room. I was positively vetted by a Chinese Ballet dancer from the Birmingham Royal Ballet, now we are married with 2 bilingual daughters, my wife is a Shanghai girl.

Tomorrow we are off to Malta, my first holiday in 5 years.

Now here's a few samples, what I'd like to do would be to read my shorts/blogs on your radio. Each piece is about 90 seconds long, 90 seconds with Michael is the idea, simple idea. I have gained 11,442 views on Funny or Die for a sample chapter of Tears for a Butcher which will be my 6th book. Only the other day a publisher said my book of shorts 300 and Not OUT was very funny. In fact I must have 500 shorts, enough for over a year. My books are on Amazon Kindle and www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com  is my site.

 Here's the samples for radio or print.

How do Men Shop? ©

By Michael Casey

There is a difference between Men and Women, and thank God for it. But how do men shop? Shopping for men is about getting what you need, my shoes have a hole in them so I’ll go to the shop and buy another pair. A man will buy a new pair of shoes that are exactly the same as his old pair of shoes, or if he’s being adventurous he’ll have a pair of shoes which are exactly the same but with grey laces and not black. Now to a man this is being fashion conscious. If a man wants a new pair of trousers he just goes to the shop and sees if they have his leg/waist size and then tries them on, making sure they don’t split when he bends over and that his package is not squeezed. If a man needs a suit he checks the trousers before putting on the jacket, the jacket must be able to be done up without his belly exploding the buttons off. A man will never button up his suit jacket, but he needs to know that the buttons won’t fly off and hit anybody in the eye, if ever he does.

If a man needs a shirt he checks the neck size, 18.5 in my case, and then he sees if its full fit or not. Then he buys 5 shirts exactly the same all  in plastic . For a lazy shopper he’ll go straight to Slaters and get what he wants. In and out in 30 mins for everything. Then he’ll go to the pub and meet his mates and have one pint too many and leave all his shopping in the Queens Tavern. Luckily they are honest there and his shopping is saved, otherwise he’s have to waste 30mins in Slaters, before going back to the pub.

This is basically the difference between men and women. Woman shop, men pick up clothes or whatever like an order picker does, without any passion.  A man gets home and puts his shopping away and forgets about it. Just like in the film The Fly where the man’s wardrobe contains suits all the same colour, clothes are just a thing so they are all uniform.

As for women shopping s something different, the clothes have to be tried on and they must make the woman look perfect, her bum or boobs mustn’t be to big or too small, everything should be right. To help the woman chose her clothes she brings two or three mates or her children with her. Her man is forced to come too, but he plugs Radio5 Live into his ear and listens to the football  while she is choosing. Men know 5 colours, red, blue, red, green, yellow or maybe one or two more; as for a woman there are at least 50 colours, and just as the eskimos have 30 words for snow a woman has 10 words for each colour and its hews.

This brave man, or am I stupid, I just give my wife the debit card and say leave me in peace, so she goes off with a smile with the girls with her, they are young Fashionistas after all. I decided years ago what a wife needed was space to shop and not constant looks at my watch. So that’s what she does and her bulging wardrobe will testify to the wisdom of my decision. When a woman comes home its 2 hours of mix and match to make sure that the new clothes match the old clothes, the husband tries to watch the big match on tv but his wife is prancing around the living room asking “does my bum show” and various other questions. It’s a penalty, and you sit on the edge of your seat, the wife appears and blocks your view, so you miss seeing why  your side was relegated. Normal life in homes up and down the country.

The next day you watch the match again in peace, you remembered to record it on Sky+ and as for the wife she’s gone back to the shop to return ½ of what she bought because it doesn’t match her shoes. And it’s your fault because you wouldn’t give her your debit card again so she could buy cheap £100 shoes.

All Things Bright and Beautiful ©

 By Michael Casey

I haven’t written a non-pain piece in a while, so I’ll try and forget the pain and write something new. We’ve just had the half time holidays and my girls have been playing “shop-girls” as they call it. They even have a sign on their bedroom door saying “open” or “closed”. They steal my wife’s clothes and prance about upstairs. Our eldest daughter has bigger feet than my wife now so that’s a relief as she cannot steal my wife’s shoes any more, but it does not prevent her younger sister from wearing mum’s shoes. There is also the matter of the beret with silver sequins, that’s an absolute Fashion Must.

Me, I’m not fashionable at all, three girls in the house is enough, if I gave in to them they’d be beading my eye brows, I do wear pink on occasions, so that’s as far as I go. If I were maybe 3 stones lighter I’d try other things, I did see a nice cord jacket in Cotton Traders 48R, it was bright blue, Kingfisher Blue, my girls called it a “Clown Jacket”. With encouragement like that what am I supposed to do? I did say if I win Euro millions I WILL buy the jacket. My wife has a nice light brown one, although as she is a woman there will be a more accurate colour name, men don’t do colours. If you think of it its black and white, blue, green, orange as far as men go, but women at least another 40 names for colours. As far as my hair goes, its silver, though a friend used to say I was an old man with white hair. As the colour of our hair change it’s the 7 ages of man.

I remember Ali saying why wasn’t it “Whitemail” instead of blackmail. We are in the Pink if we have good health, I long to be back in the pink myself. We say we hope be back in the black not in the red when we do company accounts, we look for the silver linings. We look look look for the rainbow as the song goes, we may find the crock of gold, all our troubles may be over and we can pack them up in the old kit bag. Hope springs up within us, it is now Spring after all, and as Chance the Gardener said “in the Spring there will be growth.”

Cheese and Chorizo ©

By Michael Casey

The thing about girls is that they steal your stuff, you think they are nice and sweet smelling, but they are not. If they get up before you they’ll raid your side of the fridge and eat your cheese and chorizo. Cheese and chorizo on toast, with hot chocolate to follow, this is how your daughters treat you. This is how my girls treat me.

Yesterday mum bought biscuits, and did she share them? NO. The girls got some but I got none. They were  the ones I really like, its always the ones you really like. I looked high and low, just like an Ah Ha song, but nothing. JJ the wife just laughed at me as I went from pillar to post looking for a biscuit, the Tunnock ones. See this is how the 3 girls in my life treat me, I am biscuitless. Finally after much derision my small daughter showed me  where the biscuits were, a new hiding place, that’s why I could not find them. So I was victorious, I sneaked a biscuit into my pocket and slipped away to eat it in peace.

Shoes are a big thing, so our small daughter walks around the house in mum’s shoes, mine are too big so thankfully they are left alone. However having two daughters who like Textiles, which is the fancy word from school for sewing and making things. If they like textiles then your clothes are not safe, they drag a shirt or two out of the wardrobe and say they want to turn it into something. Jumpers are not safe either, they can cut them down to make a dress  or even a handbag. And as for needles, it’s like having a porcupine in the family, DANGER. You only realise that after you have sat on a needle or two, the wife just says its free acupuncture, no need to asked Dr Hu to pay us a visit, and yes he really is Dr Hu, not Dr Who, but Dr Hu.

Now that our 11year old is 5feet tall, as big as mum, she wants to wear her clothes, but you can imagine what kind of clothes a Shanghai girl wears. So there is debate in Chinese, I cannot understand a word, but SANINGONGA is heard quite often which means no. Which also means my girls, our girls will return to steal from my wardrobe again. In a way it’s like having moths, but instead of holes in your clothes, entire items just disappear. BUT it’s not just the girls, its mum too, she’ll decide that the Fashion Police would not like this item or that item, so it  disappears. When do I find out? Never, or nearly never, until I walk past a charity shop and see a tent sized item in the window, it’s my clothes.

So if you want to keep the clothes on your back, don’t have daughters. If  you want your favourite food safe in your side of the fridge, the none Chinese side of the fridge, then don’t have daughters. If you want to save your pennies, don’t have a Shanghai wife. But then life would be boring, just make sure you look before you sit.

From A to B 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 sea man, 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.

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

Thanks for reading this, that’s if Junk did not get it. I have come close and not got a cigar many times in my life, so I decided to try you. Radio is the medium for my words, 90 seconds with Michael, could go nationwide, it’s a simple idea, with great words, mine if I can be boastful. We are off to Malta in the morning, my back pain has flared up again, so I'm hoping the 20degrees in Malta cure it, we have had zero for what seems months here in Birmingham

Cheerio, Michael Casey  

www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

p.s. my 1^st book is called The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker and it would make a great serial, Charles Dickens 1^st appeared in a newspaper as you know.

Tears for a Butcher Chapter One 11,400 views on funny or die this will be my 7th book when finished

          The Butcher  The Baker and The Undertaker Book Two

              ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

                      Tears For a Butcher  ©

                            by

                      Michael   Casey

            Chapter One ...Mrs Murphy to the Rescue

          ÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿ

         The next day found the street nursing a collective hangover , Mrs

Murphy  being  the sole sober person .  It was her soul and  that  of  her

 

infant  grandchild which concerned her ,  so as usual she had got  up  and

 

said  her  three rosaries before going to early Mass .  In  the  afternoon

 

little  Shiela was to be Christened so Mrs Murphy at least was getting  in

 

the right frame of mind .  Mrs Murphy did stop to light a candle in  front

 

of Saint Anthony as thanks for help in finding Jaswinda , after all wasn't

 

he  the  saint  in charge of lost things and  you  might  call  Jaswinda's

 

kidnapping a form of being lost ,  lost from her parents and friends  that

 

is  .  Fr Shaw had privately offered the Mass up in thanks for  Jaswinda's

  

safe return ,  even he had felt humbled by Mrs Murphy's faith in God .  He

 

had noticed the lit candle by Saint Anthony's statue and the nod and smile

 

Mrs Murphy had given to a poster of Mother Theresa of Calcutta . So united

 

in prayer the Mass was celebrated .

 

         When the Mass  was over and Fr.  Shaw had taken the vestments off

 

he walked down the side isle and sat on the bench in front of Mrs Murphy ,

 

leaning back he spoke to her .

 "Well that was quite a night .  I didn't have as much fun since the  last

 

ordination I was at " , he said with a smile .

 "It was grand , I'll agree with you there , BUT you do know that the food

 

we were "ateing" was for Shiela's Christening do " , replied Mrs Murphy as

 

she heaved her bussom indignantly .

 "You don't begrudge Jaswinda and her family that do you ?" asked Fr. Shaw

trying not to smile .

"I do not  , I enjoyed myself too ! It's just that Patrick doesn't seem to

 

do anything in the right order .  I mean he fathered a child before he got

 

married  ,  now  he eats the food before the Christening "  ,  sighed  Mrs

 

Murphy .

"You don't mind being a grannie ,  I mean some women feel that they've got

 

one foot in the grave now that they are  grandmothers " ,  said  Fr.  Shaw

 

teasingly .

"I do NOT , now that's the best thing Patrick  ever did , and June is such

 

a nice girl . It was almost the will of God them meeting  , fancy it being

 

her  father  who lent us that money all them years ago .  Now we  are  one

 

happy  family ,  APART from that mother of hers .  I just hope I'm  spared

 

long   enough to see all my grandchildren grow up ,  I wouldn't  want  the

 

"English Grandmother" to influence them too much  " ,  she rolled her eyes

 

at the thought .

          Fr Shaw smiled broadly and tossed his head back ,  stiffling his

 

laughter out of respect .  Mrs Murphy smiled too , noticing for the  first

 

time the small piece of paper stuck to Fr. Shaw's neck, she'd have a laugh

 

at him too as well as herself .

"Is  the work getting too much for you Father  ,  not trying to  cut  your

 

throat are you " pulling the piece of paper from his throat and holding it

 

in front of him .

"Get  away out of that ,  besides the Samaritans are ex  directory  around

 

here" he replied .

"Well I'd better go home for some breakfast ,  I'll see you this afternoon

 

with the "Pagan Grandparents" for the Christening " said Mrs Murphy as she

 

gathered herself and her handbag up .

"You  could always try converting them ,I mean their daughter is  Catholic

 

now " , said a deadpan Fr.Shaw .

"And how do I go about that " said Mrs Murphy as she put her gloves on .

"Well  we don't have a statue like we have one of St.Anthony nor a poster

 

like the one of Mother Theresa " , Fr.Shaw paused, he could see Mrs Murphy

 

blush , she was embarrassed by her shows of faith .

"Don't  you dare tell anybody " whispered Mrs Murphy as she fidgeted  with

 

her bag .

"Anyway " said  Fr.Shaw diplomatically " haven't you heard of St.  Jude  ,

 

she likes a challenge , perhaps the "Pagan Grandparents" would be right up

 

her street " a smile on his lips .

"St.Jude would be ringing the Samaritans then " was Mrs Murphy's reply as

 

she  nodded  towards  the altar and headed down the isle and  out  of  the

 

church .

"Lord grant me faith " , said Fr.Shaw . Then he smiled, he knew the saints

 

would soon be bombarded with conversion prayers .

         In the afternoon Mrs Murphy ,  Patrick and June and  baby  Shiela

 

arrived  for  the  christening .  The "English  Grandparents"  were  there

 

too ,  that's to say June's parents Mr and Mrs Kemp . Mrs Kemp was dressed

 

to  the nines ,  with a big hat on her head and matching long gloves  .Big

 

Sid  ,  Mark and Gillian ,  Percy and Sgt Mulholland and Mathew were  also

 

there , along with Amjit , Balbinda and Jaswinder of course .

 

  "The Lord Save Us ,  if it isn't The Duchess of York Herself"  whispered

 

Mrs Murphy as she walked up the side isle to the baptismal font . June had

 

to  look down at the baby and pretend to wipe its nose to save  collapsing

 

into  giggles  .  Patrick  just bit his lip ,  the  pain  would  stop  him

 

laughing.

  "I'll  just go and say hello to "Annette" " ,  said  Mrs  Murphy  before

 

striding over towards Mrs Kemp .

 "She's up to something " , whispered Patrick .

 "I know , but what ? " answered June from behind her hand .

  After a few moments they found out what .  For Mrs Murphy  returned  all

 

smiles ,  giving a knowing wink to Patrick and June ,  well that's how  it

 

seemed  but in fact the wink was for the baby Jesus in the  Virgin  Mary's

 

arms .

 "You know you were going to call the baby Shiela ,  then have Annette  as

 

the middle name ,  after your mother over there " said a surprizingly  coy

 

Mrs Murphy .

 "Yes , we decided that months ago ," answered a suspicious June .

"Well  "Annette" agrees with me it would be better if the middle  name  be

 

different ,  I mean  Shiela Annette Murphy is a grand name , but the child

 

might  think one grandmother is better than another ,  what with her  name

 

coming  second  and  that .  Now we don't want  favouritism  do  we  .  So

 

"Annette" thought that you could save her name for the next  granddaughter

 

,  which won't be long in coming ,  as you are such a loving couple  after

 

all " continued Mrs Murphy .

  Patrick blushed at this point ,  June just twinkled ,  Mrs Murphy was  a

 

terror  to  be  sure ,  but it felt alright ,  well as  far  as  June  was

 

concerned . Mrs Kemp saw Patrick blush and whispered to her husband .

"I bet she's talking about the next doxen grandchildren ,  and in a church

 

too  .  Well  at  least one will be called "Annette"  ,  and  NOT  "Shiela

 

Annette" , she consoled herself with that thought .

 "So what will the middle name be then ?" enquired a still red Patrick .

 "Jude , of course , " replied Mrs Murphy .

 "Jude , of course , " echoed June while pulling a face at Patrick .

 "But she's the patron saint of " started Patrick .

 "Hopeless causes ,  " finished June , who had recently finished a book on

 

the lives of the saints .

  "Well  it nice to see you're becoming a good Catholic  ,  "  smiled  Mrs

 

Murphy beaming with pride .

 "Us  converts can teach you old ones a thing or two , " smiled June .

"But why  Jude , mom ?" asked a puzzled Patrick .

"Well  its  a nice name ,  isn't it ?  " she  replied  defensively  before

 

walking towards Fr. Shaw who had emerged from the presbytery .

"What's she up to ? " said Patrick thinking aloud .

"Well  you are a bit of a hopeless cause ,  or so my mother says "  jested

 

June .

Fr.  Shaw smiled when he heard what Mrs Murphy had to say ,  looking  over

 

towards Mr and Mrs Kemp .

"Did  you  see  that ?  Fr.Shaw looked at mom and smiled  ,  and  he  said

 

something too . It looked like" started already" . "

"I didn't know you were a lip reader . I'll have to watch out when I swear

 

at you in future " replied Patrick .

"Well  only  a bit ,  but what has she" started already"  ?  "  continued  a

 

an intrigued June .

 

"We  can  ask her afterwards ,  " was Patrick's reply ,  as he  could  see

 

Fr.Shaw was coughing and opening his prayer book , a sure sign that Shiela

 

was about to be baptised .

          So with family and friends looking on ,  Shiela Jude Murphy  was

 

baptised ,  Sgt.  Mulholland and Mathew being her Godparents .  Mrs  Kemp

 

rolled  her  eyes at the sight ,  to her it seemed like two  "King  Kongs"

 

standing over a small bundle ,  which was baby Shiela .  Mrs Murphy  would

 

later explain how only Catholics could be Godparents for Catholic babies .

Baby Shiela stayed asleep during the service ,  even when drenched  ,  for

 

Fr.  Shaw a baptism meant water and lots of it ,  no dabbing for him . Yet

 

the baby slept through it ,  June had taken a tip from Mrs Murphy , namely

 

a  thimblefull of Irish Whisky in the baby's milk half an hour before  the

 

baptism .  

 

           Back at Mark's cafe  the baby's health was toasted ,  Mark  and

 

Gillian  having stayed up late to remake the eaten buffet .  Jaswinda  was

 

looking at her future playmate , and trying to work out when little Shiela

 

would be bigger Shiela , or big enough to play at any rate . Outside Amjit

 

was pacing up and down the pavement in front of the cafe and barking ,  he

 

wanted to be let inside the cafe .

"What  on  earth's that savage dog trying to do ?  " said an  alarmed  Mrs

 

Kemp.

"He's  only  saying  congradulations ,  that's all  ,  "  said  a  totally

 

unperturbed Mrs Murphy .  Who then went to the counter to return with  the

 

scraps .

"Jaswinder  ,  do  you want to feed little Amjit ?  " asked Mrs  Murphy  ,

 

holding the plate out so Jaswinder could reach .

"Yes , please , " Jaswinder replied then with a hop and a skip , her one

 pigtail bobbing she dashed out to feed Amjit .

"Is it safe , he might harm her ! " said an alarmed Mrs Kemp .

"I don't think so ," said a smiling Mrs Murphy .

 

          After  an hour of festivities ,  the people  began to disperse ,

 

Mrs Kemp was about to leave herself ,  when she leaned over conspiratorily

 

and with a glance at Patrick whispered to Mrs Murphy .

"Shiela , it's Patrick's birthday next month and I was thinking of getting

 

him a nice watch , as I noticed his old one is a bit worn out . "

"More like ,  knackered , I'm forever telling him to take it off when he's

 

humping  big loads of flour and the like ,  but will he listen to me  ?  "

 

,replied Mrs Murphy shaking her head .

 "Quite ,  but he's changed since  he's married  MY June ,  so if I was to

 

buy him a nice watch then perhaps he'll take care of it ?  " said Mrs Kemp

 

trying not to sound condescending , but failing as usual .

"Oh ,  to be sure , he's a real man , now that he's married to YOUR June ,

 

but  then  isn't he the image of his father ,  MY dead husband  in  heaven

 

who's  no  doubt having a drink with the angels to  celebrate  his  first

 

grandchild's baptism into THE CHURCH .  " ,  smiled back Mrs Murphy as  if

 

butter would not melt in her mouth , while glancing over with pride at her

 

own earthly holy family , namely her Patrick and June and baby Shiela .   

 

"Well ,  you do agree with me he needs a new watch ,  I mean we don't want

 

to end up buying him the same thing do we ?" ,  said Mrs Kemo  ,  flashing

 

her best smile .

"Yes ,  you are quite right "Annette" ,  and can you tell me where you got

 

those luvly false teeth from ? They are grand altogether , or did you just

 

soak them for a week in Domestos ? " , replied Mrs Murphy the butter still

 

not melting in her mouth .

Mr Kemp came to the rescue , and ushered his wife out of the cafe , giving

 

a wink to Mrs Murphy ,  behind his wife's back of course ,  he had a sense

 

of humour after all , but he was not totally stupid  though .

 

"I just hope  she gets him a stretch strap ,  otherwise he won't wear  the

 

thing .  Mind you the watch he's got now isn't too bad ,  he's  superglued

 

the glass back in , it could last a while longer . " mumbled Mrs Murphy as

 

she watched the Pagan Grandparents go .

"What's  this  about a stretch strap ?  " asked June as  she  placed  baby

 

Shiela in grandma Shiela's arms .

"Annette ,wants to buy your husband a watch for his birthday next month ."

"He  could do with one ,  he told me those Russian one's seem to last  him

 

the  longest ,  the sweat gets in the others he's tried over the  years  .

 

Besides the one he's got now has a horrid picure in green of a man playing

 

a lute , the man looks as if he's just came out of a concentration camp !"

"I've  seen  that ,  it could frighten little Shiela here  when  she  gets

 

older" , said Mrs Murphy as she stroked the baby's nose .

"I just hope mom  gets a stretch strap , he hates the others they dig into

 

your  skin when you work ,  he likes wind up ones too ,  he said he'd  not

 

have got his present one if he'd realised it was a battery one . "

"I'm  sure she'll get a nice one ,  I mean now there's a real man in  your

 

family , besides she probably fancies him on the quite . " said Mrs Murphy

 

as she played with the baby in her arms .

"You're an absolute terror , you are ! " laughed June .

"It might be true ,  I was reading it in the Readers Digest at the surgery

 

when I was at Dr.  Quaringa's for my blood pressure tablets . It said that

 

some mothers - in - laws have a fixation for there son in laws . "

"Well I'll have to get my figure back quick , and then start to seduce him

 

again !" laughed June .

"You'll soon have a brother for Shiela if you do that ,  but at least with

 

two children to look after , then Patrick would be too busy to notice your

 

mother's overtures .  " retorted a deadpan Mrs Murphy before looking up at

 

June and throwing back her head to cackle like a hen .

Patrick  came  over to see what was up .  The two women in his  life  just

 

looked  at  him and resumed their laughter with fresh vigour  .  Then  his

 

daughter joined in to .

"The  sooner  I  have a son ,  the better ,  then at  least  I'll  not  be

 

surrounded by mad women " , said a slightly indignant Patrick .

June and Mrs Murphy just looked at each other again and laughed till  they

 

cried . Patrick was bemused , so he repeated his statement . "The sooner I

 

have a son the better !  "  June wiped the tears from her eyes  ,  before

 

kissing him .  "I'll only be too happy to oblige ,  if you can wait a  few

 

weeks " ,  she replied as she patted her still swollen stomach  .  Patrick

 

blushed as red as the bottles of ketchup on the tables ,  Mrs Murphy  just

 

swelled  with  pride  and whispered to the bundle in  her  arms  "  Little

 

Timothy won't be long in coming , a year at the most . "

Patrick was still blushing as June kissed him again .  Mrs Murphy then got

 

up  and handed the treasure back to June ,  before snatching a  kiss  from

 

Patrick and leaving the cafe , she had other matters to attend to .....

          Mrs Murphy had walked to the end of the street when , she had to

 

stop and shake a pebble from her shoes , leaning on a wall as she did so .

When something cold and wet shoved itself into the back of her leg she was

 

naturally frighten for a second . Spinning around she saw what it was .

"God  blast you ,  the Devil carry you ,  Amjit you hairy thing  will  you

 

leave me alone . " She screatched at the innocent dog .

Amjit lowered his head ,  and offered his paw ,  so they could shake hands

 

and be friends again .  It was then than Mrs Murphy noticed her umbrella ,

 

hadn't she left it in the cafe and Amjit had brought it after her .

"Sorry , Amjit , but you did frighten me . Here shake hands . "

They shook hands ,  then with a woof ,  and what could easily by  mistaken

 

for  a  smile Amjit was off his tail high and proud .  He  too  had  other

 

business to attend to , if only he could remember where he had buried that

 

pig's head that Big Sid had given him ,  Amjit knew there was another meal

 

or two left in it , if only he could remember where he'd left it .

"Thank's again ,  Amjit " shouted Mrs Murphy after the hairy hound . Amjit

 

stopped to bark again ,  then with a burst of astonishing speed he was off

 

,  he'd probably seen the Post Office cat and Amjit wanted to talk to that

 

moggie .  It started to rain ,  and thanking Amjit with a "Bless Him"  Mrs

 

Murphy  opened her umbrella .  She had hardly opened it when  old  Michael

 

pulled up in his taxi .

"Do you want a lift , I've earnt my diesel for the day . "

"Well could you take me to Weatherfield Rd ,the one by the Rover's  Return

 

past the old clothing factory ? "

"Hop in , but why are you going over that way ? "

"Me  and Mrs Lynch are looking after Mrs Powulska , she's still weak after

 

her operation ,  so we take it in turns to keep an eye on her . Her sister

 

is coming ower from Poland for a month  ,  she will be here in a few  days

 

so I've got to tidy the place up a bit . "

"I like the Poles they are a great lot ,  I was with a lot of them  fellas

 

in the war ,  they are sometimes called the Irish of Central Europe , they

 

have  suffered let me tell you .  " said Michael as he moved up the  gears

 

and sped off .

 "Yes they did suffer ,  first the Nazis ,  then the Communists , but they

 

led the way for Europe to be free , and after all isn't the Pope himself a

 

Pole ,  so you cann't beat that .  " said Mrs Murphy her voice showing her

 

passion .

             As  Mrs  Murphy left the taxi ,  Michael who'd  just  had  10

 

minutes on the persecution of the Catholic church in Poland was numbed  by

 

the outpouring .  "Is it really true , they built a church themselves cos

 

the government built the town without one .  And that in Albania they shot

 

a priest dead for babtising a baby ? "       

 

  "Yes " was Mrs Murphy's simple reply though her eyes betrayed her  anger

 

and passion .

 "The Bastards , I fought a war for them , what are they afraid of ! "

"The Baby Jesus " mumbled Mrs Murphy as she walked away .

  "Let  me know when your Polish friend arrives ,  I'll drive you  to  the

 

airport  "  shouted  Michael  after  Mrs  Murphy  .   She  just  waved  in

 

acknowledgement , her mind was elsewhere .

            Mrs Murphy did the vacuuming ,  and dusting for 2 hours before

 

stopping  to make cup of tea for herself and a hot meal for Mrs Powulska  .

 

She proped Mrs Powulska up in bed , before putting a tray down in front of

 

her , she watched as a still weak Mrs Powulska ate .

"So which part of Poland , does your sister come from ? " asked Mrs Murphy

 

as she sipped her tea .

"Oh the south , a little place , a university place , its called Cracou "

Mrs Murphy's cup clattered against the saucer ,  she put her tea down  for

 

fear of dropping it .  To her it was as if a trumpet had sounded to herald

 

the entrance of an angel .

"That's where the Pope comes from !" she jabbered .

 "Oh ,  of course , he babtised my sister's children . This food really is

 

good , you could almost be a Pole , Mrs Murphy . " replied Mrs POwulska as

 

she ate heartily . Mrs Murphy finished her tea fast , she'd have to give a

 

final sheen to things before she went .  After all wasn't a friend of  the

 

Pope's coming .  She had seen the Pope in Coventry ,  sneaked in with  the

 

handicaped thanks to Fr.  Shaw , but now to meet with a friend of the Pope

 

, Mrs Murphy hadn't been this excited since her confirmation .

         Mrs Murphy took it upon herself to meet Mrs Powulska's sister  at

 

the airport . On the drive in Nanska  the sister  , told an awe struck Mrs

 

Murphy all about "Carol" , which was what the Pope insisted his old school

 

chums call him ,  his reasoning being that's what his mum called him ,  so

 

they  must  call  him  that  too .  Michael cocked  half  an  ear  to  the

 

conversation , after all it wasn't often that he had a V.I.P. in the back

 

of his taxi .  Mind you he had had the odd Lord Mayor or two who did think

 

that they were important ,  Michael knew from his own experience that  the

 

really important people tended to be the quiet ones  , they knew that they

 

were the guardians of gifts ,  however bizarre or seemingly useless ,  yes

 

the truly important people were the quite ones that was for sure , ask any

 

old taxi driver mused Michael as he pulled up outside Mrs Powulska's .

  "Thank's Michael ,  come inside for a cuppa ,  I'm sure Nanska will  not

 

mind . " chirped Mrs Murphy .

 "Yes ,  Shiela is taking the words from me .  " continued Nanska who  was

 

now as a sister to Mrs Murphy . The sisterhood of the faith , was a bit of

 

a  beneign  conspiracy  .   A  pair  of  rosary  beeds  and  pictures   of

 

grandchildren in a bag and there you had it , instant sisterhood no matter

 

what nationality ,  it was the mothers that gave birth to faith ,  and  it

 

was meer men that said the Masses .  The Pope himself knew that  ,  that's

 

why  he  insisted on being called Carol by Nanska and all his  old  school

 

friends .

 

          Inside the tears flowed into the tea ,  Polish words  and  songs

 

rang  out from the heart to the heart ,  there in central  England  ,  Mrs

 

Murphy  looked on ,  she knew that but for the miracle of Poland  breaking

 

the chains of Communism ,  this happy scene would never have happened . It

 

was  at  times  like these that a good Irish drink was  called  for  .  So

 

reaching into the bottom of her black bag , she produced Poteen .

"Will you take some in your "Tay" ?  " ,  she said but without awaiting an

 

answer she was pouring it .

"What is this Poteen ?  " asked a curious Nanska , sitting up straight and

 

straightening her hugh , black clad bussom .

 "Vodka " was Michael's reply ,  repeating the word in Polish , it was one

 

of  the  few words of Polish that he could remember from  the  war  ,  the

 

others words  he knew were certainly not fit for ladies such as these .

 So tentatively sipping at the cup ,  Nanska tried her fortified tea  .Her

 

face changed colour then slowly changed back again ,  rather like  traffic

 

lights changing ,  only traffic lights don't breathe heavily and fan their

 

mouths with their hands .

 "It's good " said Nanska with a tear coming down her eye .

  "It's  fresh  if I'm not mistaken " added Michael who was a  bit  of  an

 

authority on these things .

  "It  was made three weeks ago ,  Sgt Mulhollands family send it  over  "

 

mumbled Mrs Murphy a tear now coming down her own eye .

  So the three ladies and an old taxi driver got quietly and quickly drunk

 

,  on tea strengthened with Poteen .  Michael even remembered a whole song

 

in Polish that he'd learnt . It's wonderful the power of good alcohol , it

 

brings back the memories to the old and banishes the cold of loneliness .

As for the song ,  it was as bad or as good as the one Mrs Murphy had sung

 

at  the do for the childrens's home .  The two Polish women  laughed  till

 

they  cried  ,  Michael sung it even louder and was made repeat  it  seven

 

times ,  and all the time he hadn't a clue for the life of him what he was

 

singing ....

        The next day Mrs Murphy took Nanska on a trip around town to  show

 

the sights ,  Mrs Murphy really liked flashing her bus pass like a  police

 

man , in fact Starsky was her favourite . The two ladies stopped off for a

 

cuppa at a little cafe by the bus station .  Behind them was a park and  a

 

wood , it reminded Nanska of home .

 "I feel at home here ,  with these woods ,  with a friend by my side "  ,

 

she squeezed Mrs Murphy's hand , as she gazed towards the woods .

 " We have woods like that back home , when I was in service in the hotels

 

in  Killarney I used to walk in the woods .  Its nice to see something  so

 

tall  and  strong reach up to the sky and grow .  Then you  have  the  low

 

branches with their leaves leaning down and touching your hair . It always

 

gave me a thrill . " said Mrs Murphy as she followed Nanska's gaze .

 "It was such a thrill ,  the soft earth underneath the trees , the bouncy

 

ground , the squirrels chattering away and jumping like acrobats from tree

 

to tree ,  the magpies too ,  oh it was all so grand , just think what its

 

like to be young ." continued Mrs Murphy in bewteen sips of tea .

"It was the closest we got to sex . " smiled Nanska

"Yes  ,  I  suppose  you  are right - then  we  realised  trees  are  more

 

dependable than men . " laughed Mrs Murphy .

  They laughed together ,  a shared love of trees ,  a shared  faith  ,  a

 

shared  hope ,  they laughed as only the old can laugh ,  they laughed  at

 

themselves .

  "Come  on ,  let's walk in the woods " said Mrs Murphy  jumping  up  and

 

nearly knocking the table and chairs over .

A smiling Nanska ,  eagerly joined in this nonsense , oh to be young again

 

,  youth was wasted on the young ,  they wasted so much time , life is for

 

living and loving and hoping , not sitting around and saying " I'm Bored"

all this went through both their heads as they strode towards the wood .

Not  that  they actually strode ,  in their hearts they  did  ,  but  they

 

progressed towards the woods arm in arm .....

           They must have been in the woods for a half hour ,  before  Mrs

 

Murphy felt the call of nature . So making hissing noises , and gestures ,

 

she  ushered Nanska on ,  while she did a country pee .  This is  how  Mrs

 

Murphy described crouching behind a tree with her dress held up about  her

 

head  so she could let nature take its course .  It was while nature  took

 

its  course  that it happened .  A fact of human nature to be  prescise  ,

 

greed .  Nanska was mugged . Mrs Murphy heard the screams and came running

 

, or rather huffing and puffing with her drawers still not fully pulled up

 

"What's up ?" she demanded as she rearranged her underwear .

"A bandit take my bag " was Nanska's reply as tried to contain her heaving

 

bussum , such was her shock and heart rate .

Mrs  Murphy looked feverishly around her hoping to see the  mugger  ,  but

 

there was no chance .  So taking Nanska's hand to comfort her , Mrs Murphy

 

led Nanska out of the wood .  On the way out they found Nanska's handbag ,

 

there was a trail of Nanska's poccessions .

"So we are lucky after all " said Mrs Murphy trying to console Nanska .

  "Yes ,  but he did frighten me ,  he pushed me to the ground  "  replied

 

Nanska as she crouched about picking up her belongings .

 "Bad sest him ,  the divil carry him  , if ever I catch him , I'd tan his

 

bare  arse ," said Mrs Murphy as she struggled about picking  up  Nanska's

 

belongings .

"I have everything now ,  he must have thrown it down when he realised  my

 

money  was Polish kind .  Sadly I miss the gold cross and chain  that  The

 

Pope gave me . " sighed Nanska .

Mrs  Murphy's  ears pricked up as she heard this ,  nobody  , no  cheeky

 

spotty  youth  was  going to steal from her  friend  ,  she'd  catch  this

 

"person" if it was the last thing she did . Her head raced with anger , as

 

the two of them continued out of the wood , towards the bus station .  Now

 

how would Starsky deal with this she wondered ,  then she wondered   was

 

St.  Anthony  the  one for muggings too ,  after all she wanting  help  in

 

finding  that  cross  .  She  was  awakened  from  her  throughts  by  the

 

"Chugg,chugg" of Michael's taxi .

"Jump  in ladies ,  where to ?  " he said quietly ,  as his head  had  not

 

recovered from the night before .

 "You better go to Mark's , WE have been mugged . " said Mrs Murphy .

           At Mark's ,  Mrs Murphy and her soul mate ,  were the life  and

 

soul of the inquest into the mugging .  Concerned looks , and dire threats

 

of  what they'd do to the culprit were the order of the day . Patrick  his

 

hands covered in flour came running .

"Are you alright , are you alright ? " he said , scouring his mothers face

 

for signs of harm .

"Of course , I am . Only the spotty faced monster made me wet my knickers"

 "You were that afraid ? " said a worried looking Patrick .

  "Don't be so soft ,  you overgrown egyt ,  I was taking a country pee  ,

 

when  I  heard the fuss ,  then in my rush I wet my knickers ."  said  Mrs

 

Murphy with a look that said "What kind of idiot have I for a son " .

  "So we've wet the baby's head last week and now your knickers this

  week ! "  said Patrick who couldn't resist the chance of a joke .

 "I'm not too old to tan your bare arse ,  Patrick ! "  snapped Mrs Murphy

 

before she saw the funny side and started to shriek with laughter .

 "I'm going to catch that cheeky monkey , I don't mind my knickers getting

 

wet  ,  it's  just  that Nanska a visiter to our country  should  not  get

 

treated like that ,  it ruins the reputation of the place ,  they'll think

 

we are all totally uncivilised .  " Mrs Murphy sounded more than indignant

 

, she had that look in her eye . Then by way of afterthought she added

"Besides ,  the little bastard stole a cross and chain given to Nanska  by

 

the Pope himself ! "

  Patrick knew  it was definately a waste of time trying to  persuade  his

 

mother that she hadn't a chance in hell of finding the mugger .  He looked

 

about the cafe trying to think of something useful  to say . Outside Amjit

 

barked and put his nose to the window .

"Well Amjit can help you , " said Patrick trying placate his mother .

"Well I'll take him home with  me then . "

          The next few days Amjit found himself under house arrest at  Mrs

 

Murphy's . She was training him with the aid of a hurling stick and ginger

 

nut biscuits ,  if he had a soul Amjit would have sold it for a ginger nut

 

biscuit , wasn't Patrick the same only Rolos were his weakness . Amjit was

 

a  clever dog already  ,  but Mrs Murphy didn't quite trust him as he  had

 

ran  after a squirrel while saving Jaswinder .  She was an old  woman  she

 

didn't want to be attacked while souring the town for the mugger  .  Amjit

 

already knew English and a bit of Indian but now the Gaelic were to be his

 

command words . Mrs Murphy did not want anybody to know what was coming .

 "Well , you seem to know your stuff , so we'll go for a walk in the woods

 

then ."

            Walking in the woods was a joy for Mrs Murphy ,  a harsh  word

 

in Gaelic was all that was needed when Amjit started to trot , having seen

 

a squirrel ahead .That and the odd ginger nut .She thought she'd only have

 

to walk into the woods and then  the mugger would come out with his  hands

 

up  ,  but neither life nor love is like that .  The first thing that  Mrs

 

Murphy  came across seemed to be a body ,  she couldn't quite see  so  she

 

sent Amjit ahead ,  just in case it was dangerous .  Amjit crept ahead and

 

sniffed at a white rounded thing ,  his cold nose touched it . There was a

 

startled scream ,  followed by a girl's laughter .  Amjit had disturbed  a

 

pair  of natural lovers .  Mrs Murphy brought up the rear ,  averting  her

 

eyes from the naked lovers .

  "I'm  sorry  if my dog disturbed your husband at  his  "Work"  ,  "  the

 

laughter in her voice ,  hadn't friends of hers done the same fifty  years

 

ago in the woods of Killarney ,  in a crowded house a wood can be a  thing

 

of wonder and recreation  if not procreation .

"He's only my boyfriend !" came a laughed reply from the girl , while the

 

boy blushed .

 "You should only do that if you know , he'd be a good father to a baby !"

was Mrs Murphy's moral retort her eyes averted still .

 "Oh ,  he will be ,  I want lots of children ,  we are just getting  some

 

practice in , " was the final remark before the girl got the boy to carry

 

on with a job well done .

  Mrs Murphy was going to say something more but then thought  of  Patrick

 

and June ,  so she just laughed and laughed ,  they were true lovers  just

 

like her Patrick and June , so what if they were early starters . And they

 

wanted  lots of kids ,  anybody who loved children was ok in Mrs  Murphy's

 

book .     

 

           Further  into the wood  teenage children were swinging  from  a

 

rope  tied  to a tree .  When they saw Amjit they  scattered  ,  screaming

 

"Police"  .  They had been playing truant from school ,  the sight  of  an

 

enormous  dog  had only meant one thing to them - Police  .  It  took  Mrs

 

Murphy  a while to realise this . Then she realised she had a new  problem

 

now , how to make Amjit invisible .

   

             Mrs  Murphy  thought  long and hard  on  how  to  make  Amjit

 

invisible , it would be easy if she was Paul Daniels the tv magician , but

 

she  was just a poor widow woman ,  as she insisted to her son every  time

 

she  wanted to extract a favour .  Saint Francis was roped in to help  but

 

this only gave partial success , what was needed was something to slow the

 

hairy  beast down .  Mrs Murphy even thought of attaching the old last  to

 

Amjit's collar ,  she ruled this out though ,  something much heavier  was

 

needed  , something that would make Amjit slow down and so make  him  keep

 

his  distance and so be invisible .  Then while watching the tv she saw  a

 

blacksmith ,  a light went on in her mind , now an anvil would be just the

 

thing to slow Amjit down .  It was then that Saint Francis spoke up ,  she

 

couldn't  be  so  cruel to a dumb animal especially  after  he  had  saved

 

Jaswinder  .  The picture of Mother Theresa looked down the wall and  said

 

"have faith ".Mrs Murphy looked at Amjit lying at her feet like some  form

 

of  long  haired rug and smiled her own saintly smile  ,  they  were  only

 

thoughts ,  meer passing pagan clouds . She threw Amjit a ginger nut , the

 

"rug" awoke and caught it , licked his lips and wagged his tail ; he liked

 

her ,  it amused him how she threatened him with a hurling stick ,  he let

 

her think she was in charge ,  after all he really would sell his soul for

 

a ginger nut .

          The door bell rang ,  Saint Francis had sent a helper ,  no last

 

this but a human anvil who would really slow Amjit down , it was Mathew .

Mrs  Murphy smiled ,  those saints really loved playing games with  her  ,

 

they could really drive her to distraction ,  yet they always came through

 

in  the  end  ,  even though if sometimes  they puzzled  her  despite  her

 

fathomless faith .

 

"Hello Mathew ,  come in I'll make some fresh tea ,  I've a favour to  ask

 

you " , she said casting a sideways glance at Mother Theresa on the wall.

  

           The next day Mathew and Mrs Muphy were on the street ,  a trail

 

of ginger nuts seperated them .  The plan was for Mrs Murphy to call Amjit

 

and make him advance slowly along the street ,  picking up the ginger nuts

 

one by one ,  Mathew was the braking device to prevent Amjit wolfing  down

 

the lot .  This  did the trick ,  as Mathew was heavier than any  last  or

 

anvil .

             "Follow  " commanded Mrs Murphy from up the  street  . Fifty

 

yards  away Amjit eagerly obeyed ,  why shouldn't he after  all  ,  wasn't

 

there a trail of ginger nuts in front of him ,  he was only a dog , albeit

 

a very large and hairy dog , but he wasn't stupid . The pavement was a bit

 

wet  and  slippery after the early rain ,  and such  was  Amjit's  pulling

 

power that if Mathew were wearing skis he could have water skied along the

 

pavement , but since Mathew wasn't then that wasn't a possibility , but it

 

was  a near thing .  Amjit proceeded up the road after Mrs Murphy  licking

 

his lips all the way ,  now this was fun he thought ,  even if he did have

 

to  drag Mathew after him .  After half an hour the supply of ginger  nuts

 

was  exhausted .  Jaswinder came skipping out with a couple of packets  of

 

ginger  nuts  ,  her  father like everybody else on the  street  had  been

 

watching  with  interest .  So patting Amjit hello and  goodbye  Jaswinder

 

skipped away ,  her mission had been accomplished .  Amjit again  followed

 

Mrs  Murphy at a distance ,  still weighed down by Mathew ,  to be  honest 

 

Amjit was getting bored ,  even though it was his duty to do Mrs  Murphy's

 

bidding , it would be a shame to waste all those nice ginger nuts wouldn't

 

it ?  "Now lets see if he'll do it without the bribe , " yelled Mrs Murphy

 

to  Mathew  .  So  Amjit followed her at a  distance  ,  almost  inventing

 

pavement water skiing at the same time as he dragged Mathew along .  Amjit

 

followed three times without reward . "Well he seems to have leant it then

 

doesn't  he  ?  "  beamed a happy Mrs Murphy .  Only  to  be  disappointed

 

immediately  ,  Mathew had let go of Amjit ,  so a disgusted Amjit  dashed

 

off. It wasn't fair was it , Amjit had been tricked , he had obeyed out of

 

duty hadn't he ,  the ginger nuts had nothing to do with it ,  it was  the

 

principle , wasn't it ? 

 

          In the cafe Mrs Murphy had a well earned cuppa while she treated

 

Mathew  to a banana milk shake .  Where had that turncoat Amjit got  to  ,

 

just when she thought he had learnt his lesson .

          Amjit too was having a break ,  he'd dug up a favourite bone and

 

was chewing on it , pondering on the morning's fun as he sucked the marrow

 

from his bone .  It was while Amjit was chewing that he had an idea ,  but

 

he finished his bone first before he put his idea into action .

            "I've got an idea  Mathew ,  what if we gradually  reduce  the

 

amount  of ginger nuts ,  then even that stupid dog will  understand  ,  "

 

sighed Mrs Murphy , who was tired and feeling her age .

"Like Barbara Woodhouse did on the telly last night do you mean ? "replied

 

Mathew as he blew bubbles into his milk shake .  Mrs Murphy realised  what

 

an old fool she had been and it was Mathew of all people who had made  her

 

realise this .

 "Come on then , I'll try and whistle the devil back to us , " she said as

 

she leant on the back of a chair to lever herself up .  

 

          Outside Amjit was sitting with his lead in his teeth ,  his tail

 

was wagging ,  he was pleased with himself and the bone he'd just eaten no

 

doubt . "Your stomach not full enough is it ? " scolded Mrs Murphy . Amjit

 

just  barked and skipped in front of her just like a puppy .  "You  better

 

grab him ,  before the rascal runs away . " Then in front of them they saw

 

the fruits of Amjit's chewing the cud or rather chewing his bone  .  Along

 

the  pavement placed at intervals were fragments of bone !  Amjit  thought

 

Mrs  Murphy  had  ran out of bribes ,  so he had supplied  his  own  ,  in

 

readiness for more fun .

           "You'd teach this grandmother to suck eggs wouldn't you ,"  she

 

again scolded , as Amjit jumped about like a very excited puppy .  

 

"But I thought we were just teaching him to follow you at a distance , and

 

how can a dog suck eggs , or do you mean carry eggs like Police dogs can

 

do , like I saw on - "

"Barbara Woodhouse last night ,  " interrupted Mrs Murphy .  She looked at

 

Amjit  and  then Mathew ,  then she smiled ,  some would  call  them  dumb

 

animals yet both had shown her a thing or two .  There was no doubt in her

 

mind ,  St.Francis was making a fool of her .  She shook her head then she

 

let  the  laughter out ,  at her age she had no time nor need of  anger  ,

 

laughter was all she wanted ,  that and to die in her sleep and to convert

 

the  pagan  grandparents of course .  The shopkeepers who had  again  been

 

keeping half an  eye  on proceedings came out to see what was the cause of

 

all the laughter ,  Mathew having started off too ,  a braying echo of Mrs

 

Murphy's earthy laugh , Amjit barking for joy too , which would soon start

 

off all the dogs in the neighbourhood . A look along the street to see all

 

the  bones  soon  explained things .  So the whole street  joined  in  the

 

laughter  .  When sanity returned Amjit proved that he'd already  mastered

 

the trick of following at a distance .  If the truth be know ,  Amjit  had

 

worked  things out pretty soon ,  but he hadn't the heart to admit  it  to

 

poor Mrs Murphy , besides it was great fun , if she wanted to leave ginger

 

nuts along the pavement then he wasn't going to stop her . After all a dog

 

was man's and old ladies' best friend . 

 

             Mrs  Murphy resumed her search of the woods  with  her  newly

 

trained Amjit , but to no avail . So she went and had a bun and a tea from

 

the cafe in front of the wood . It wasn't fair , she'd spent all this time

 

and energy ,not to mention wasted prayers and still no sign of the mugger.

             While Mrs Murphy was having simple fare ,  on the other  side

 

of  town  Mrs  Annette Kemp was treating herself to  Black  Forest  Gateau 

 

washed down by real coffee and cream  all served by pretty young girls  in

 

uniforms  similiar to those Mrs Murphy had worn fifty years ago  when  in

 

service  in the hotels on the lakes of Killarney .  Mrs Kemp  was  pleased

 

with  herself ,  she'd just bought Patrick his birthday present ,  a  very

 

nice Rolex with clasp strap . So pleased was she that she had the watch on

 

her table so she could admire it while she had her gateau and coffee , and

 

she of course congradulated herself on her good taste , if only some would

 

rub off on Patrick .  Then she smiled to herself ,  hadn't he married  HER

 

daughter ,  so if that wasn't good taste ,  then what was ? She overlooked

 

the fact that   some of her "friends" would have called  it  a  "Shotgun

 

Wedding"  ;  but  now that SHE was a grandmother those kind  of  "friends"

 

could  go  to  hell as far as she was concerned ,  in many  ways  she  was

 

already like the other grannie - Mrs Murphy . 

 

           Outside on the street somebody else was admiring the Rolex ,  a

 

spotty faced youth with a skateboard under his arm ,  a "class war"  badge

 

on his jumper , next to a gold cross held on with a safety pin . As far as

 

the  spotty  youth was concerned here was one of  the  enemy  ,  flaunting

 

wealth ,  that one watch would more than pay for a years poll tax , that's

 

if the spotty youth didn't feel poll tax was immoral .  Not that  stealing

 

was immoral , for that's was what he was about to do .

            Mrs  Kemp finished her gateau ,  had a last sip  of  her  real

 

coffee , then she put the Rolex away , into a dainty carrier with Rolex on

 

it .  She floated outside ,  with the air of the Queen Mother about her  ,

 

she  was  happy and content ,  it had been a nice morning ,  a  very  nice

 

morning  .  So  when  a sneering spotty faced youth shouted  in  her  face

 

grabbing  her precious cargo she was to taken aback .  She  just  couldn't

 

comprehend  the situation ,  it was like stealing one of the  three  gifts

 

from one of the three kings ,  or slapping an angel's bum and asking for a

 

bit of slap and tickle . It happened to other people but never to you , it

 

was as likely as a man breaking into the Queen's bedroom . It just did not

 

happen .  Then Mrs Kemp's face fell ,  it had really happened and to her ,

 

just as it had happened to the Queen , even the Queen .  

 

 "Stop thief ,  catch that little BASTARD ," she screamed .  She hailed  a

 

taxi and ordered "Follow that skateboard . " Only the taxi driver laughed

"It's too late for April Fool's Missus .  " This really annoyed Mrs Kemp ,

 

being called "Missus" ,  and by a taxi driver . So she ordered him to take

 

her to the street , her daughter at least would give her some sympathy ..

   

          "So you see the spotty creature grabbed the bag and made off  on

 

his skateboard ,  I doubt if he could tell the time , unless it was on one

 

of  those  horrid  digital watches ,  so why on earth should  he  steal  a

  

"Timepiece"  like the Rolex ?  " mused Mrs Kemp to her daughter ,  as  she

 

sipped her tea in Mark's cafe .

"So Patrick won't be getting his birthday present then ? " said June , who

 

was holding her mother's twitching hand , the shock only now sinking in .

"No ,  he'll have his watch ,  no little hoodlum is going to ruin MY plans

 

after all ,  Patrick is family now .  Though you will come with me to  the

 

shop to buy him another , I wouldn't feel safe on my own ."

June looked at her mother , she suddenly seemed old and vunerable  ,  the

 

hard  real world had never dared encroach on Mrs Kemp ,  and now there she

 

was holding June's hand ,  looking vunerable , June was the mother and her

 

mother was the little frightened child .

 

"Of course I will ,  but you need not go to the expense ,  after all it is

 

the thought that counts , " concern in both her eyes and voice .

Outside there was a screech of brakes ,as three orange VW vans pulled up .

Out  jumped  eight Indians in turbans and saffron coloured  robes  ,  long

 

swords dangling by their sides . Behind the Indians came Mrs Murphy , like

 

an honour guard they heralded Mrs Murphy into Mark's cafe .

 "Nine teas , please , and some cake too , " flashed a pearl white smile .

Mrs Murphy sat down , her boys surrounding her . It was only then that Mrs

 

Murphy noticed  a crestfallen Mrs Kemp .

"Are you alright ? You look down today , Annette , " Mrs Murphy enquired .

"Mom was mugged , just a while ago ," answered June .

"Jesus ,  Mary and Joseph it's an epidemic .  Didn't somebody have a go at

 

me , only a few minutes ago ! "

"What ,  somebody tried to mug you ,  dear God ,  Shiela what's the  world

 

coming to ? " a startled Mrs Kemp replied .

"Oh  ,  I'm ok the mugger just pushed me to the ground .  You see the  bus

 

conducter  was  in a funny mood so he wouldn't let me take Amjit  on  the

 

bus  ,  so the poor dog had to walk the two miles home on his own  .  Then

 

what with the dirty bus windows I couldn't see where I was and got off  at

 

the wrong stop . So this young  lad jumped out at me . But luckily my boys

 

happened to  be passing so they jumped out  of their vans and chased him

down the street .  I think he got the fright of his life , mind you he's a

 

very  fast runner ,  he just tucked his skateboard under his arm  and  ran

 

like  he'd just seen a banshee ,  " Mrs Murphy gave glowing looks  to  her

 

boys .

"Well ,  when we saw Mrs Murphy we were going to give her a lift ,  as  it

 

was we ended up saving her from God knows what ," said Amajit the one with

 

the pearl white smile .

"This is Amajit , and these are his brothers , Bamajit , Camajit , Damajit

 

,Hasajit  ,Jamajit , Nanajit and the little one is Pamajit ,  " said  a

 

proud Mrs Murphy as if they were her own sons , and in fact she would love

 

them to be sons of hers .  For they were all fine strong lads ,  only they

 

were sons of India and not of Kerry .

"And  how did you you get to know such fine young men ,  " asked Mrs  Kemp

 

forgetting her own indignatities ,  for Amajit had the looks of an  Indian

 

screen idol .

"She stopped me from walking under a bus when I was a child ,  so it is my

 

duty to honour her and treat her as a mother ,  " said Amajit flashing his

 

smile straight at Mrs Kemp .  Mrs Kemp very nearly swooned ,  a smile like

 

that had never been given to her , never .  Mrs  Murphy winked at  June  ,

 

wasn't  this proof of what she had said ,  Mrs Kemp was after a toy boy  ,

 

and  if Patrick was unavailable then Amajit would do fine ,  very  fine  .

 

June looked at the ceiling and bit her lip ,  Mrs Murphy was a rogue to be

 

sure .  Amajit his smiling over ,  snapped his biscuit in two , and sipped

 

his tea .  His brothers  forming a kaleidoscopic imitation of him ,  as to

 

the  echo they in turn snapped their biscuits and sipped their  tea  ,  if

 

there had been music it would have seemed like ballet or even opera .

"The  lads  are off to the Temple for a do ,  these are not  their  street

 

clothes , " answered Mrs Murphy seeing a question form on Mrs Kemp's lips.

 

"Speaking of which we must be off ,  " said Amajit looking at his Rolex  ,

 

his  action  rippling out to his brothers as they in turn looked  at their

 

Rolexes .  So rising like a wave , with Amajit its crest the Khan brothers

 

were  off  ,  just  pausing long enough to nod at Mrs  Murphy  ,  and  for

 

Amajit's  final smile to Mrs Kemp .  So with a screech and three puffs  of

 

exhaust ,  the VW vans with the Khan's in them disappeared . Though Amajit

 

would never disappear from Mrs Kemp's mind .

 

  "He's  such a nice man ,  and were they all wearing Rolex  watches  ?  "

 

wondered Mrs Kemp trying to appear nonchalant . Mrs Murphy again winked at

 

June before answering .

 

 "He's a nice lad , so are his brothers . They are worth a few million now

 

  I suppose .  Working sixteen hour days does have its rewards  .  They've

 

just  bought the old pressing works , to expand their clothing business  .

 

They have one sister too ,  but  sadly she's a spastic ,  they love her to

 

death  ,  they  are building her a bungalow of her own  ,  next  to  their

 

parents house , so she can be independent . It's nice that , they are nice

 

lads  .  The youngest boy is having a year off before he goes  to  Medical

 

School , he's going to go to Birmingham because its the best . "

 

" I am impressed , " replied Mrs Kemp raising her eyebrows .

 

"You'll be impressed more when I catch the mugger , " intoned Mrs Murphy .

 

         Two days later Mrs Murphy had dragged a reluctant Nanska  to  the

 

woods  ,  not in a last ditch hope  to catch the mugger ,  they  would  be

 

more likely to uncover a teddybears' picnic than that ,  no , to quell any

 

lasting fears Nanska may hold for woods .  They were of course accompanied

 

by  Amjit  ,  whose  presence  would strike fear into  The  Hound  of  the

 

Baskerville's , Mrs Murphy had more than prayers to be her guide .

"I'm  very sorry we haven't been able to catch that mugger ,it  really  is

 

such a disappointment to me .  Three old woman all attacked by one  spotty

 

youth .  I don't mind it happening to me  ,  nor do I miss the fancy watch

 

that  my  son's  mother-in-law lost , its just that you a  guest  in  our

 

country , and not to mentiopn a friend of the Pope's should not be treated

 

like  this ,  " said Mrs Murphy shaking her head ,  as if it were all  her

 

fault .

"You do your best Shiela ,  he have the luck of the Devil ,  and he run so

 

fast  as you tell me ,  " replied Nanska placing a consoling hand  on  Mrs

 

Murphy's .

They  carried  on  walking through the trees ,  the veins  in  the  leaves

 

looking  like outstretched hands ,  begging hands ,  just as Mrs  Murphy's

 

heart was begging the saints to help her and her Polish soulmate . Amjit

 

stopped and sniffed the wind .  The woman looked ,  ahead of them  a man

 

was relieving himself against a tree ,  Amjit began to growl softly , that

 

was one of his favourite trees ,  he'd often marked it ,  what was a  mere

 

man doing to his tree . Mrs Murphy was on the point of scolding Amjit when

 

she noticed first the man's arm .  He was far away ,  but she'd seen eight

 

Rolexes  the  other day and to be sure that was a  nineth  .  Then  Nanska

 

pointed ,  wasn't there a skateboard propped against the tree  .  Amjit's

 

growls  errupted into one bark ,this made the man turn to see  where  the

 

sound came from . It was the worst thing he could have done .

"Bandit , " screamed Nanska slightly shocked at seeing the mugger again .

"He'll  be wetting his knickers now ,  " shouted a delighted Mrs Murphy  .

 

Before she could shout "Skither his Arse" Amjit was off , he knew that man

 

wasn't nice ,  how could he be , he'd used his tree , and he wasn't even a

 

nice bitch ,  just a mere man .  Amjit howled ,  the birds scattered , the

 

squirrels raced up trees , the mugger peed on his own leg , caught himself

 

on his zip , and then ran like a bat out of hell . Only it would be no use

 

 for a hound of hell was on his tail ,  no longer the creeping ,  the slow

 

the  steady Amjit as bribed by ginger nuts ,  but the hound of hell  ,  or

 

rather God's Animal making a good impersonation of a Hell's Angel . As the

 

mugger ran he could hear a jangling ,  this was Amjit's name tag , his our

 

lady of Lourdes medal and his Indian holy man medal ,  it formed a kind of

 

clanging  or bell ring ,  and for whom did the bell toll ,  the mugger  of

 

course  .  It  was  while  the mugger was running for  his  life  that  he

 

interrupted  the  young couple ,  tha naked lovers who used  the  wood  to

 

create  life ,  in fact he fell over them .  Seconds later Amjit placed  a

 

cold nose on a bare bum , it was his way of asking which way did he go .

Without bothered  to pause  ,  a finger pointed the way ,  Amjit sped  off

 

barking his thanks .  Amjit was beginning to think what a good runner this

 

mere man was ,  then he caught up with him . So teeth first Amjit said his

 

hellos .

"We better try and catch up with him then , " said Mrs Murphy .

"Do you think your dog is fast enough ? " pondered Nanska .

  

A scream rang out through the woods , as if answering Nanska'a doubts , it

 

was  followed by excited barking .  The ladies looked at one  another  and

 

laughed  .  So  picking up the discarded skateboard they  made  their  way

 

though  the woods towards the source of the screams .  On their  way  they

 

came  across the naked lovers .  Mrs Murphy averting her eyes dropped  her

 

son's business card beside them  saying  "If you need a flat give my son a

 

ring  .  "  Her son's flat above the bakery had been empty since he  built

 

his house , so to save the lovers from catching cold she left the card .

         Meanwhile Amjit had let his quarry go ,  not so he could spit the

 

taste out  before biting the mugger again , but more because it was fun to

 

let him go .Then he'd have to catch him again ,first Amjit ran away before

 

reappearing teeth first , rather like a toothpaste commercial , only one

 

with much more bite . The mugger was cowering on the ground squeezed into

 

a ball when Mrs Murphy and Nanska arrived .

"Amjit  leave him be .  As for you young man stand up !  "  commanded  Mrs

 

Murphy , having the full authority of Amjit's teeth at her command  .

The man stood ,  he looked scared , not to mention tattered and bleeding ,

 

Amjit had enjoyed his blood sport .

   

"You  can take off that watch for starters ,  and empty your pockets  ,  "

 

continued Mrs Murphy .

In the woods behind them ,the lovers now clothed watched the proceedings ,

it appeared very strange .  Two old ladies and a very big dog making a man

  

strip . For Mrs Murphy decided he might be hiding something so she had the

 

spotty man strip to his underpants ,  she was sure Starsky would have done

 

the same thing , so it must be right . While the man shivered , Mrs Murphy

 

searched  the  clothes  .  After a while she got  up  from  her  crouching

 

position , in her hand she held a cross , Nanska's cross .

"The  one  Carol give me ,  you are a detective Mrs Murphy ,"   beamed   a

 

grateful Nanska .

 

Amjit barked his praise too , his tail moving like a windmill in a storm .

Mrs Murphy then turned her attention to the mugger .  Behind in the  trees

 

the lovers edged forward , they could sense the coming storm .

"So you think you're a bigshot attacking old ladies ,  and WIDOWS like  me

 

and honoured visitors to our country do you ? " blasted Mrs Murphy .

"Well  don't think you're too old to have your bare arse spanked ,  "  she

 

continued with her Kerry accent getting stronger by the second .

"Turn  around then drop your pants mister ,  " she was trying to sound  as

 

hard as Starsky .  She was getting worked up now , in fact she dropped her

 

handbag  ,  the  contents spilt everywhere .  While she  gathered  up  the

 

contents  of her bag the mugger dropped his pants ,  he'd never live  this

 

down .  But worse was yet to come ,  for amongst the spilt contents of Mrs

 

Murphy's handbag was superglue ,  used to fix her favourite beeds .  In  a

 

second  a wicked idea was formed in Mrs Murphy's mind .  She  grabbed  the

 

skateboard , squirted the glue onto it , then used it to spank the mugger.

Only one spank ,  then while Amjit barked his approval she held the  board

 

to the muggers behind .

"There you are ,  now see how dignified you feel ,  about the same as your

 

victims  who  you leave sprawled about !  " screeched  a  triumphant  Mrs

 

Murphy as she took her hands from the skateboard  , which remained stuck

to  the mugger's behind .  Nanska was silent for a second before  bursting

 

out laughing , the old ladies hugged each other as they continued laughing

 

till tears formed in their eyes .As for Amjit he saw a friend ,another dog

 

that  is  to say ,  so with a bark of farewell he ran off to  play  .  The

 

mugger made his retreat , with the old ladies laughing him farewell .

          When the laughing was over the ladies continued walking  out  of

 

the woods , the lovers broke cover to run after them .

"Excuse  me  ,  but this card you gave us you weren't playing  a  joke  or

 

something were you ? " asked the girl .

"Not at all , in fact we are going back that way now , so if you come with

 

us  on the bus you can see my son about it ?  " relied Mrs Murphy  as  the

 

last trace of her laughter faded , leaving just slightly curled up lips as

 

evidence of her revenge in the woods .

"My car is parked by the bus station ,  we'll give you a lift . By the way

 

we saw what you did to that man , it was very funny , " said the man .

"Bad  cest  him ,  he was a mugger ,  I don't think he'll be  mugging  old

 

ladies anymore , " said an indignant Mrs Murphy .

         Back on the street in Mark's cafe Mrs Murphy held court , telling

  

and  retelling  the story .  Everybody thought she was right to  turn  the

 

tables . When Patrick and June came in Mrs Murphy held up the Rolex before

 

throwing it at her son .

"There's  your birthday present from your mother-in-law ,  I retrieved  it

 

from the mugger ,  Amjit helped of course ,  mind you he's gone off  after

 

some lady dog now . "

"It's nice ,  very nice ,  pity its not a stretch strap  though ,  "  said

 

Patrick as he examined the Rolex .

"Well  as it happens I stopped off at Jimmy's ,  so here's my present  for

 

you , " Patrick's mum then threw a stretch stap at him .

"Thank's  mum ,  you were always practical ,  though it used to be  boiled

 

sweets you threw at me . "

"Oh  June come here I've a favour to ask ?  " continued Mrs  Murphy  still

 

basking  in the afterglow of fame .  The two then confered ,  before  June

 

looked at Liz and Keith before laughing , then with a nod of her head June

 

consented to Mrs Murphy's idea .June edged up to  Patrick and gave him  a

 

lingering kiss on the lips ,  making him blush ,  he hated being kissed in

 

public . He knew June was up to something , but what was it ?

"Patrick I have decided , or rather we have decided " she began .

"You and me ? Decided what ? " interrupted Patrick .

"Me  and  your mother ,  that we ,  " continued June ,  pausing  to  plant

 

another smacker on his lips .  Patrick blushed again ,  and looked at  the

 

floor in an effort to hide those blushes from all in the cafe .

"To finish ,we , and this time I mean you and me are going to rent out the

 

old flat  to Liz and Keith over there , "  she kissed her husband again to

 

press home her point .

"I suppose it is a waste to let it go empty , " observed Patrick trying to

 

appear in charge of the situation .

"Yes it would be .  Besides we don't want Liz and Keith to catch a cold  ,

 

oh and by the way I think we should have a walk in the woods next month ."

Patrick  could see the glint in her eye ,  he did not understand but  June

 

was good at explaining ......

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