Memories are Made of This

Memories are Made of This ©

By

Michael Casey

Well I got up early as I could not sleep any more, then I checked you all out after breakfast and morning meds, the stuff that keeps my heart in shape. I reached 300 + beats after my bypass, so I have to take a med so it stays tictocking in a good beat. Sounds like a thing on TikTok, maybe I should try tictoc to annoy you all, to herd more far flung, far fetched readers to read my rubbish. Or just download the translations. I bet you have all fallen to your knees, Please God make him stay off Tik Tok.

I then went back to bed for a final 2 hour grab at sleep, I sleep in 2 hour slots, then I awake like Dracula, that’s after my slave Tinnitus has done his worst. So now freshly showered and shaved plus the 3^rd S, I have arisen to face the day and write more words. I spotted another piece, which is a jigsaw piece that may enter Tears for a Butcher if ever I write the sequel. As I said recently I need a speed typist to type it for me, which I lie on the sofa behind my desk with this PC on. And yes, I am never PC, people are people, just be nice and they will be nice back to you. The great Jim Espie whom I used to work with was a natural with a twinkle in his eyes, just be nice and people love you, not forgetting Roger too, and the crew at CPNEC 2002 to 2005.

Those were my best memories, my hardest work memories, but best fun memories. My neck measurement went up 1 inch or 2.5cm if you are handicapped by Metric, and my chest by 2 full inches, such was the manual work and talking, talking, talking. My belly grew too, so good was the food.

And why talk of such things today? Well, I spotted what you my bemused readers were reading and what I read made me cry because of the memories and meanings attached to the piece. It reminded me of my father, and this week would have been my parents 71^st Wedding Anniversary. Dad slept with his brother on his Wedding night, and my mum with her sister Hanna. As uncle Johnny had come up from Cricklewood London, Ash Grove if I remember it.

There are memories galore and I dole them out like ice cream, adding a flake or sparkles or a squirt of red sticky juice. Hot dogs are nice too, but American  mustard is a joke, mustard should make you sweat and pant, try French or British mustard, then your hot dogs will really be hot. Talking of which, “hot dogs” was the swear on the moon, as I imagine the guys were told not to make History by swearing on the moon. What really amuses me is when the first lady to reach the moon, an American lady that is, will have such a shock. As a Chinese noodle store will already be there with an Indian curry house, it will be a joint venture between India and China, and of course they’ll be two girls, so beautiful the Amercan lady will cry. Space is for all Mankind after all.

I was telling the Taiwan girl over the internet that in chapter 10 of The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker smiling Paul the bookie wins a load of money, but gives it all away to help save the restaurant business of his Chinese friends. And the finale really is in Search of an Indian Princess, the last 3 chapters of the book. Maybe that’s why its popular the world over in whatever language people read it. So I can remember crying when I originally finished it on 29^th Feb 1998

As I talk to you I’m listening to Eric Clapton, I just wish Justin Timberlake would take him into the garden and teach him a few dance moves, all the strumming and humming. Can somebody give him a Bert Weedon, and no that’s not a metaphor, but being weed on does not sound like much fun, no wonder Eric is strumming. Justin get off the fence, you’re not a cat, or even a cool cat, just paint the fence with creosote. Oh no Eric is on a riff again, Tom, Tom Sawyer give him a paint brush too, or just tip that bucket over him. Can’t you see I’m writing, news of my death have been greatly exaggerated. Oh, you just wish I was dead, then your trendy Esol English teacher wouldn’t force you to read such rubbish.

I remember reading Huckleberry Finn it was a thick book, it was 1967 maybe, see if I had to “suffer” then so can you. Eric has just finished now, and he’s screaming like a cat now, even covered in creosote, so I think I’ll finish for today, I have to go Huckle my Berries, with the Finns in the sauna. So while I leave you there I’ll take my clothes off ready for the sauna, I’ll just stroll naked down the road, I hate having to change after all. Wearing only shades and a smile, with Eric singing “I feel disgusted, and how long” I’ll be off. Eric you can carry on while I Carry On Regardless.