2nd wind

2nd wind

well I was up at 6am had some toast and a potter

looked at you all on my PC and went back to bed

now it's later and I'm still tired

Perhaps I'm slowing down and will die

you'd all be spared my words then

I'm still hoping my life will begin

But these past few weeks old ailments are creeping up on me

I'm watching a 2008 Kdrama about an orchestra

so music and Kdrama combined

my 2 favourite things

I may have a rest from writing new stuff and test you all

would you still come to the site

if now new stuff was available for a week

would cobwebs grow in my cyberspace, not a metaphor

I could write a new thing about Things I Hate

Taz on security taught me how to spot a dodgy person from a mile

If you look at mug shots, there is a "bad boy" look

But maybe I'm getting cynical in my old age

Though some confuse my open heart look for stupidy

You learn far more by pretending to be stupid

And then you can catch people out

Pain does ruin lives, but Opiods turn you into an American

So I never take enough pain killers

Besides with my kidneys I cannot take a load of stuff

So there you go

And that's why in the main I chose Comedy or Humour writing

For my own amusement I read all the newspapers

Politics mainly, it' s my addiction

So boring, goes back 50 years to me and my dad watching together

Here's another random post but be warned there may be a gap

till the weekend

Best comic Obiturary of  me wins a prize

Black Humour rules ok, and  that's not Chris Rock

black humour is humour based on sadness

here' a serious piece from 9 years ago

A Life in a bag ©

By

Michael Casey

One of our neighbours died the other day, she was an old lady with white hair, the kind of nice old lady you see in the street. She used to have meals on wheels, I could see another nice lady deliver them to her door. I could see the old lady’s children and grandchildren come and visit. But now she is dead.

I’ve grown up with death, so I have no fear of it, its another journey, perhaps even like jumping into a swimming pool, you just have to hold your breath and jump right in. We had an undertakers at the bottom of our road, and as an altar boy I served at over 30 funerals, the Funeral Mass is the one with the best reading, Lazarus and all that. Jesus loved Lazarus so much that he raised him from the dead, Eternity will be like that for all of us. Well apart from the atheists, who just won’t believe it, so they’ll stay in some sort of waiting room, Florida perhaps?

When somebody dies its like a punch in the stomach, your dad cannot be gone, you love him too much, it can’t be true; it is and you pine like some sick dog for hours.

I have never cried for my mother, she told us all no crying, so that’s what I did, I obeyed her.

You have to clear up after the dead, their home, their possessions have to be sorted and even divided. As you go through the house, the flat, the one room bed sit you see their life fall before you. Are they really like that, did they really do this, all kind of everything are revealed. A secret drinker, a collection of spicy videos, or just 6 Bibles all lined up; the dead have no secrets, they are as naked as the day they were born.

I’ve had to clear up, and help clear up several times, we had lodgers you see, so we had to act as family and tidy everything up; sometimes even finding forgotten Wills and then following them to the letter. Sending Home a couple of bodies, people want to rest in their own clay; when my time comes there are 3 local cemeteries where I could end up. Burial is best, I don’t want to be burnt, I’m big the fire brigade would have to be ready.

As I look out the window I can see a life being tidied up, everything is still raw for them, you see this, you touch that, a photo or some treasure brings the memories flooding back. When the tears are over you still have them, I tell my kids our love is in them, mum and me made them, they are part of us, so they’ll never lose us. As the possessions are taken from the house over the road a life ebbs away, the character of the house is changing, I’ve seen all this before, I’ve cleared up, I know how it feels.

A chair or an old radio is taken away, its useful and you’ll remember  gran/dad/mom/your brother when you use the thing, but the thing is full of love because of who it belonged to.

Finally you’ve finished and the house is empty, the house is dead, soon the house will be sold. Soon the life of the owner is gone, the house is empty, but once the new owner and family arrives the house will have a new life, it’s a home again. Then new life is restored, all that remains are a couple of carrier bags found forgotten in a pantry, you give them to the charity shop, at least somebody will get a bargain.