A sample of my essays. From Essays and Plays on Amazon, you could fill a Kindle for Xmas with 20 of my books

A sample of my essays. 

From Essays and Plays on Amazon, 

you could fill a Kindle for Xmas with 20 of my books

https://www.amazon.co.uk/stores/Michael-Casey/author/B00571G0YC?ref=ap_rdr&store_ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true

Essays And Plays ©

By

Michael Casey

This is a collection of Essays and Plays.

The Dead and The Living (c)

by

Michael Casey

I first saw a deceased when I was nine years old ,my father said not

to worry as the dead are the same as the living , only the laughter

has left them , the sparkle has gone from their eyes , the worry has

been lifted from their shoulders , and their voice has vanished to

eternity .

In paradise the sparkle will return for it is the twinkle of the

stars , the laughter will return too for it is the morning breeze and

the turning tides are their sides shaking with laughter .

I treat the deceased with the same courtesy as I give to the living ,

though I find the deceased are always more polite . My father also

had a few words to say about the living .

He said that the living are only the caretakers of the soul , yet

they think their existence is everything , that they know everything

because they experience many things with their senses .

What the living don't acknowledge is that their time is short and

when I lay their bodies to rest then their souls continue without

them , without their strong , without their weak , without theirbeautiful or even ugly

temporary form , to where I cannot say , only

that it is a better place .

Percy the undertaker placed the lid on the coffin ,the soul was free

THE BEGINNING

The trouble with Technology (c)

By

Michael Casey

The trouble with technology is that we all use it , now if we just left it all alone then we all have no

problems . Simple really but we all just cann't leave it alone , we all just have you use it . In the

beginning if we wanted water we'd fetch the bucket and drop it down a well . My mother was born just

30feet from the sea , but they were fortunate because they had their own well , so they went outside and

dropped the bucket down the well and then they had water . Then technology comes along and we just

turn a tap and we have clean water instantly . We have hot water too , at the turn of a tap . In one

generation so many changes . However technology then works against us , because we assume it will

always work and that there will be no problems

We don't even know where the stopcock is , so our homes flood and then we discover we are not

covered by our insurance .

My mother grew up with an oil lamp hanging above , no luxury of gas lamps for her , as for electricity ,

that was just a dream . Nowadays how could any society manage without electricity , its impossible to

believe life without electricity . No tv , no radio , no freezers , no street lighting , no traffic lights, the

list goes on and on . As for indoor plumbing , the luxury of a hot bath , the WC in the home . My

mother grew up with no indoor plumbing , if you needed the bathroom as the American's say , then

you'd leave the house and pick your spot in a field with the cows gazing on , as for toilet paper you had

a blade of grass to wipe your %^** . As for me we did not have such hardships , we had an outside

WC , which we did not have to share with any other family , just 8 Caseys sharing our outside

bog/toilet . There was a yard light to illuminate the way and a light in the toilet too . Which was sheer

luxury compared to my mum's and my dad's childhoods . My dad would always come home and

immediately switch off the yard light because it was wasting electricity . Then a shout would go up

"Put the light on" , and my dad would always say "I didn't know" . Then there was the indignity of

running out of paper . My brother Tony had a very good sense of humour so it was always the case

thatI'd shout from the yard "More Bog Roll" which is the English slang for toilet paper . Tony was kind so

he'd always bring out a fresh supply of paper , only he liked to tease so he'd push one sheet , just one

sheet of paper under the door and say that's all there was in the house , and that mom said I'd have to

use my finger . Then he'd go away laughing . He always left a full roll of paper on the doorstep , much

to my relief .

Simple technology , we all take for granted , water and electricity . What does all this technology do for

us ? It gives us independent comfortable lives , we have clean water , hot water , light and warmth .

Then with the miracle of TV we can all watch the world go by , from the comfort of our homes , or the

local bar whichever is our true home . We are now a global village as has often been said , but then we

become anti social as its easier to watch tv than to interact with real people , we'd rather watch fiction

on tv than have a real life . But with technology we can send an email to our neighbour across the road

, with pictures and video , rather than leave our castle homes , rather than going over for a coffee and a

bar of chocolate .That's one view the optimistic view says that we truly can break down barriers by

using the miracle of email to keep us connected though we are thousands of miles apart . I have to hold

my hand up and admit that I am an email Junky , I did send up to 5 emails a day to my friend in

another part of the office , because we were both having fun . Then when I fell in love with my one true

love it was ONLY because of the miracle of email that our love survived .I sent my girlfriend long

long emails everyday for 6 months . She was in Shanghai while I was in Birmingham . My heart was

breaking with love and hope until finally she came back to me . I'd come home from work at 3am and

hit the keyboard , with luck because of the time difference we'd actually be live and talking almost in

real time .You cannot imagine how heart rending it was to come home to an email , to get up in the

afternoon and read an email before going on night shift .I think whoever invented email should be

made a saint, without email our love would not have lasted . An exchange of letters takes 14 days from

Birmingham to Shanghai , so thank God for email and God himself KNOWS just how much I mean

that , Sainthood is not high enough reward for the inventor of email .Is it Saint Bill Gates ? The

telephone is fantastic , but too expensive , I know my phone bill reached 4 figures , but an email can be

read over and over again , and even printed off , so it is a letter.

So I confess email is the most important leap in technology of the 20th Century , as far as I am

concerned .

The next stage in the technology story are mobile phones that send/receive video and tv , so we are

literally wired up where ever we are in the world science fiction becoming science fact . We all used

empty match boxes to pretend we were Captain Kirk communicating to the Enterprise but now theyare

here for real . If you have been in a theatre,church,hospital and these things bleep you have to

decide for yourself are they useful or just a real pain in the *&^% . On balance they are good , but

people have to be a lot more considerate , nobody else wants to hear their conversations if they are in

church or at the theatre or even cinema . I remember a conversation I had at dinner on Xmas Eve just

gone , the guy sat next to me happen to design mobile phones , he was very very good at his job , but I

did warn caution about saturation point being reached . Then today 4months on , I am proved right , the

mobile giants are in trouble , why , because of saturation point now being reached .

I don't want to end on low note , so I'll tell another anecdote , we all remember when we had our first

colour tv , how wonderful it was and how we all marvel and the colours . The BBC started showing

snooker because of the colours , and now tv without snooker would be unimaginable . Then remote

control came in , so we'd try different positions and even outside the house and through the glass into

the room where the tv was . Technology makes us all like children , its supposed to be a triumph of

engineering and technology but really its our greatest toy , and our greatest joy . On Saturday my dad

will come out of the old peoples home to spend the day with me and my Chinese wife in our home . I'll

be able to show him the internet and I hope I can bring tears of joy to his eyes as I show him County

Kerry on the computer monitor . Sitting in my living room in Birmingham he can read the Irish

newspapers and see his homeland where he started as a blacksmith in the 1930s . This is how we

should be using technology .

End

20/4/2001

Michael G Casey

Email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com

Internet Story ©

By

Michael Casey

So all I had to do was send an email , and then I’d be a writer , my book in every

shop , my face smirking from cardboard cut--outs of me holding my book aloft . My

book

had a great title , so it was bound to sell . A Nation Of Shopkeepers was a great

title , if only people could remember their History , were people interested inHistory ,

and for that matter my book . It wasn’t a history book , would people think

it WAS a history book , and then not buy it . It was a comedy drama , about a street

of shops , interconnecting short stories , for all the family , but would people

notice the levels , the strands of humour , or would they say it’s a Ma & Pa book ,

and miss the joke , just as one publisher called did ?

I decided to keep the title , though I had a reserve title , The Butcher , The Baker

and The Undertaker . Then I realised the US market would rename it The Butcher ,

The

Baker And The Funeral Arranger . You don’t think about such things when you are

writing the book , you’re just happy , on a roll , in love with your own intellect ,

or just surprized you actually DO have any intellect , then you discover that you are

dyslexic , you really are dyslexic , thankfully not a really bad case , just

dyslexic . As you proof read you see you have put BUT instead PUT , LEAD instead

of

READ , things like this and other strange things . Sure there are spellcheckers but or

is it put , you have to check it anyway . As you read you are surprized at your own

ability . You didn’t waste 4years in journalism school , but your writing is GOOD ,

Did I write that ? Then your chest filled with pride you get somebody else to read

it , and guess what ? They think its crap . So now you have to decide , should I give

up or should I carry on ?

I gave up for as while , while is a unit of years in my case , my life took another

path , so the writing was forgotten , it lay dormant for years , then like a phoenix

it arose , or more truthfully , like a tortoise awaking from hibernation , sleep still

in my eyes I slowly poked my head out , then back in , went back to sleep again ,

then

finally with the pangs of hunger in my stomach I just had to do something . In my

case

it was eat , as in really eat , then I turned to my old Atari and realised it was not

PC compatible , so I bought a new , or rather an old new Atari which was PC

compatible

. Then I spent a day copying my files so that I could read them on a PC . Then I

wrote

a few more pieces before I realised I’d get nowhere in England . The chances of

being

published were 1 in 2000 . So like a bear , I went back in my cave and slumbered

.Meeting my wife Jing Jie was a turning point in my life , and not just because it was

like Thunder as Jing Jie calls it , it was a turning point because I had a

professional opinion on my writing , from a journalist at the very top of the tree .

Her uncle is an editor in chief , so his comments were and are like gold , worth more

than my first coffee and Cadbury’s chocolate , the pleasure rush I treat myself to

every day , his comments really were that important to me , and I really DO like my

Cadbury’s , so being better than Cadbury’s is the highest praise I can give . So I

knew the quality of my writing , even if others said and say its crap .

Getting a modern PC and internet connection was another turning point . Email in our

house is like water and electic in any other homes . Jing Jie can “talk” to her mum in

Shanghai every day . To friends all over the world as well . Birmingham IS the centre

of the universe .So with hope and fear I had to transfer my files from my old Atari to

the new PC . The floppy discs were old and battered , several were unreadable ,

finally my work , my babies were safely on the new PC . Just to be on the safe side I

set up a website , so now my work was on somebody’s server in the US , thousands

of

miles away , safe from fire or theft . I could also put our new baby’s photos on the

web site so that my Chinese family in Shanghai and Maimi and friends all over the

world could see Annie and Jing Jie and me , they could even read my work too .

So now all I had to do was market my work in the US , simple really , soon I’d be

doing something useful with my life , making people laugh . I’d be a writing whore ,

I’d get paid to make others laugh , the best job in the world . So how would I set

about it ? I got a list of radio stations from the internet and started sending emails

galore . I’m talking in the hundreds now , to radio stations the length and breath of

the US .They could publicise my site then eventually I’d get published , or my play

would get produced . It was simple wasn’t it . So merrily I went about my business ,

sending emails galore . Years before I used to send off big heavy envelopes with my

work in , with more persistance than hope in my heart .”Thank you for your pieces of

paper“was the best put down . I once even met a writer and he agreed to to read

myplay Shoplife , then he wrote back calling me a plagerist , because it was so good

.

So I used his note as toilet paper , Shoplife was so good because I had 20years of

experience given to me by my sister , I just improved on it , but yet I was called a

Copyist , so naturally I was angry and used his note to wipe my bum .

I wondered why my strike rate was so low with my emails to radio stations , then

somebody casually mentioned , “You do know they will just delete anything with an

attachment” . In these days of viruses or worms which I’ve discovered is the new

trendy word , nobody can risk their PC , so I merrily send and they merrily delete .

I’d been wasting my time , but not my money because I’d got a 24/7 package on my

internet from AOL .However one radio station did read Shoplife . The DJ or is it

Host , he called it hilarious and he could not stop reading it . It turned out he was

an actor as well , though isn’t everybody an actor in the US ?

So I thanked him , and quoted him in my future advertising .Humour is a funny thing .

The things that make English people laugh are not the same as the things that make

Americans’ laugh . We are constantly told by people on tv that English TV is the best

in the world , the US material we see is the top 10% , the rest is rubbish . But I

know I’d never get my foot in the door in England so I had to persist with my

American

campaign , so now I pasted in my material , no attachments . Just get them hooked ,

then paste in a sample then direct them to http://groups.msn.com/michaelcasey

Then bingo part2 of my life could begin ,I’d be the man that made America laugh , a

naïve sentiment , but it was honest .Only AOL turns things into zip files and some

people can’t unzip your files , its like wanting sex but your zipper is broke and you

can’t get your trousers off . Such a strong urge , but no fulfilment .

I switched to MSMAIL and pasted in my stuff , things started to happen , my files

weren’t being deleted or too zipped up to be read . At least I wasn’t frustrated any

more . Now I had an agent interested , and a new magazine , even a theatre replied

.All praise to Bill Gates , and to a Christian called Pat Verato who pointed me in the

direction of a few good sites .However some of the sites that I trawled through

werejust , so very American . Hey , you too can be a writer , just send me 10 dollars

and

I’ll send you my book “How to make 10 dollars” , and he does . Then there’s

magazines you can subscribe to , yes you’ve guessed it , just send another 10

dollars

“Writing for Beginners” . There’s all these agents too who are so successful ,

persuading tap dancing bus drivers to write about Tap Dancing For Bus Drivers , the

complete self help book , costs 10 dollars . The agent gets 20percent , and the bus

driver pays 5000dollars to print 500 copies , then he can boast he’s a writer , not

just a bus driver , and guess what if you pay 10 dollars you can learn to tap dance

too .

As for me , what do I think of all this ? I’d say just keep on writing , stop your

selling , or attempts at selling , just write a bit . Add to your catalogue of 3 poems

and 2 short stories , then search for an agent . Believe you’ll never be published and

then you won’t be disappointed. There is one final thing you can do though , just tell

everybody to go to my site http://groups.msn.com/michaelcasey

And help find a publisher for my book , and then you’ve guessed it , just send me 10

dollars !

End

Nov99 Michael G Casey email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com

Literary Criticism (c)

By

Michael Casey

I always thought I was a good writer , people told me so , and it

was what I wanted to hear , so naturally I believed it . That was until

Jee Ji came to live with me . She told me she'd read my stuff , my

"rubbish" and give an opinion , her uncles were influential , so perhaps ,

or just maybe they could help me get published or even produced . Then theworld

would be my oyster , however I had forgotten one fundamental thing .

Jee Ji was Chinese , her English still had a long way to go , and besides

which would British humour travel as far as China , or as far as her

Chinese brain ?

So naturally I gave her my funniest story to read first , the true

yet surreally funny Czech story , and what did she say ? "Its boring", if

she had been a man or one of the lads from work I'd have punched her , or

at the very least called her an "ignorant bastard". But because I loved

her , I took the critism like a man and smiled , and that was a revelation

in itself , why ? Because I had found somebody whom I respected enough not

to curse at when the hated my work , my stuff , my "rubbish" . Love is a

strange thing , making you smile , instead of curse . So it at least

proved how much I loved her , I had told her that my stories were my

children , the product of my love , the only thing with meaning in my

life , with value in my life . Until true love came along in the form f

Jee Ji herself . So now we could discuss things , with love in our eyes ,

and my writing was , what it really was , just words on paper. Perhaps

someday my simple words would really have great value , but now I realised

what they were - words , just words , perhaps never to have any meaning ,

except to me alone . In the Bible it begins with "In the beginningh there

was The Word" , aand after that we have the Bible itself , and the rest is

History . So perhaps my humble words would have a beginning , and perhaps

my future words would have history too , obviously not as great as The

Bible , but I still dream that someday my words will have an effect on

people . I don't want to move mountains , just make people laugh , that's

enough for me . However humour is a funny thing , I cannot tell a joke to

save my life but sopmehow when I put words on paper I can make people

smile and even laugh . When I'm really relaxed and down the pub I canactually make

people cry with laughter , and I don't know why , the tears

of laughter just flow , so perhaps when I write I should just relax and

pretend I'm down the pub and most of all , just don't try to be funny ,

just let the laughter flow naturally .

So much for the theory , the practice is that you write for years

and nobody pays a blind bit of notice , then you write one thing and hey

presto you are recognised as a "writer" , well in your office at any rate

. So you are suddenly "world famous" to a group of friends , if you are

lucky 30 friends , that's just how "world famous" I became . Offer any

other pieces of your "literature" and you are treated like a leper ,

"Unclean , Unclean" people almost say . I did get one real fan , and I

fell in love with her , only she didn't fall in love with me , as she

repeatedly said . However I did make a friend for life , which is better

than nothing . And I'm use to nothing , so that can't be bad .

Jee Ji revealed her uncles' connections , after I'd already

guessed , I was happy but not overwhelmed . I had a play accepted 12 years

ago , only it did not happen , so I've given up believing I'd ever be

acknowledged as a writer long ago . If a miracle happens and her family

decides to help me then that's wonderful , but I have her love and love is

the greatest gift of all , so I'm more than happy . World recognition as a

writer will never happen , not unless my mother who makes tea in Heaven

pulls lots of strings for me , having said that she sent Jee Ji so perhaps

helping me find my true vocation is next on my mother's list . "Blessed is

he who expects nothing" , so perhaps before I die I will be blessed , and

become a writer .

So that's how Jee Ji has become my literary critic , if I get 100

out of 100 she will pass on my work to her uncle , but she is the filter .

This makes me smile and is the ultimate irony , because her English isvery good ,

though her verbalising is not as good as what's in her head ,

and she still has to look words up in her electronic dictionary . So I

have a Chinese literary critic , who is still learning English !

So I gave her another piece to read , it was "Its all in the Stars"

a comedy based on me and Louise . This made her laugh and smile ,

occasionally Jee Ji would look up and ask "What Mean?" and spell out a

word and I'd explain and make her look it up in the dictionary . So I'd be

smiling as I watched her read my story , and then I'd smile even more when

she stopped to ask for explanations of English words . God really DOES

have the last laugh , first I have to write something funny , which is

hard in itself, then I have to write in such a way as to please a Chinese

girl . Now that is the future which I have to bear in mind . As for my

back catalogue , I just have to hope that with "The help of God and Two

Policemen " as my mum always used to say my old "stuff" will pass the

Chinese filter and get 100 out of 100 , and then a Chinese uncle in Miami

or a Chinese uncle in Shanghai will help this Birmingham England boy get

his foot in the door as a writer .

So I watch from my rocking chair as she reads , as I watch for

smiles I admire her beauty , though I call her and "ugly mug" as a joke ,

and as a way of making her realise that beauty is only skin deep . And we

both realise too its because we see each others heart that's why we are

sitting opposite each other , that's why I have a Chinese critic of my

British humour , and yes God really DOES have a truly great sense of

humour . If I can do the impossible then I will perhaps finally get my

chance to be a writer . Though I must immediately say that my mum does

make the tea in Heaven so I'm sure she's bribing Saint Jude , the patron

saint of the impossible , "Look , Saint Jude if you want the best tea for

all eternity , just help Michael my youngest son , let him make peoplelaugh for 70

years with his writing . But only if he can make his Chinese

girl give him 100 out of 100 . And only if its the Will of God." .So

basically that's the situation . Simple really , I just sit in my rocking

chair and watch Jee Ji smile and every now and then she says "What Mean?"

and I explain and she checks it out in her electronic dictionary , then she

laughs more when she reads the Chinese translation . I'm sure I can hear

God laughing in the background , but I REALLY do believe mum sent Jee Ji

to me , so I hope its just a matter of time before I get my foot in the

door and I get a chance to be a writer . Having said that perhaps I should

add that Time is God's greatest joke , didn't Padre Pio once say something

like "The prayers I will say tomorrow will have helped you yesterday ."

To finish , perhaps I should just teach Jee Ji more English and

then Hey Presto she'll see what a wonderful writer I am . I'm laughing now

at my own stupidity , its more likely she'll think even more how useless I

am as a writer , however God works in mysterious ways and another thing my

mother used to say was "Far Fetched , Like Shit from China." Why ? Because

our meeting and falling ion love is so unbelievable and so far fetched

just like "Shit from China" , so the ultimate joke is that it takes a

real Chinese miracle for me to find a girl AND get published .

Or can I hear God Laughing ?The Shy Girl ©

By

Michael Casey

Helen let herself in the house and shouted hello to her aunt as

she dashed up the stairs two at a time . This was usual for her on a

Friday night . Once in the bathroom she breathed a sigh of relief , her

aunt hadn't seen the carrier bags she was carrying . Helen put the plug in

the bath and then reaching into the Body Shop carrier she poured a liberal

amount of "enriching body bubble bath" into the bath before turning the

hot tap on . Next she hit the play button on the cassette and began to get

undressed , she got undressed slowly and deliberately , just as she had

read in Cosmo in the article on how to turn on your man . She'd been

practicing for three months now , she was very good at it.

Helen was twenty five and three months old , she wore baggy

clothes to hide her figure , for she was a shy girl , it was only on

Friday night when she reformed her ritual "temptress" routine before she

tried on her new clothes that she was truly free . All alone in the

bathroom with just a mirror for company Helen could act out her fantasies,

now she stood naked before the mirror , she took a bow , she really had

mastered the routine Cosmo had suggested . If only she wasn't so shy

if only she didn't hide her bust behind a baggy top and her bum behind a

loose fitting three quarter length skirt .

Helen took a long hard look at herself in the mirror , she'd

look good on any page three , only she never bought the Sun , just looked

at it over the shoulder of people on the bus . She always though "tart"

every time she got a glance of page three , but if only she could have a

thimble full of their brazenness , then she wouldn't be so shy , then she'd

have a steady boyfriend . When she reached 25 she promised herself thatshe'd stop

being so shy , and for the past three months she'd being buying

things that would show off her figure , next week she was going to get

contacts too , after all men never made a pass at girls who wore glasses.

The only problem was that for three months she'd bought the nice if not

exactly sexy clothes , only all she did was try them on before neatly

folding them and putting them at the bottom of her wardrobe . She really

was a shy girl , some might think a frump , just to judge by outward

appearences , it’s just that she was shy , shy shy shy.

Her bath was ready so reaching in her carrier she reached for a

magazine before getting in the bath . This month the main article was

about sex , relationships and why can't men just be friends , there was a

picture from the film "When Harry Met Sally" above the article . Helen

started to read , her glasses steaming up already , she reached down for

her bar of Galexy taking a big bite as she read . Helen's friends had

started to get married and /or have serious relationships , she was

beginning to feel left behind , especially as once her friends had a man

they had less time for friendship with her . She read the article hoping

to find fresh insight into her situation . It was asking how far should

you go on your first date , second date and so on , there was even a chart

so you had an at a glance guide .

Helen thought of her last boyfiend , three months ago in fact ,

he had assumed that as it was her birthday the thing she'd like most

would be him ! He's pressed himself against her , and put his hand on her

breast , only she'd kneed him in the groin , and his fancy watch with its

even fancier watch strap had got stuck on her bra strap , so as she

stormed off , she had his Cartier watch dangling from her chest almost

like a nurse's watch .

She read on pausing for more chocolate , if only men were asnice as Galexy that

would be something. She finished the article and

turned the page to be met with a picture of agent Fox Mulder from the X

files . She sighed , she wouldn't be shy with him that was for sure , mind

you millions of woman would doubtless say the same . She spent five

minutes adoring his picture before taking another bite of chocolate , and

then sinking lower into the bath , yes yes yes , oh yes , this chocolate

was something else , or was it Fox Mulder ?

There was another article about pets and stress levels , that

was quite interesting , apparently you live longer if you have a pet , as

you have something to love and it in return loves you unconditionally . if

only she could find a man like that . Mind you animals did have one major

disadvantage . they were very wanton , very caveman like . If a male

animal liked a female it just jumped and got on with it , perhaps she

should be wanton , just once , just to see if it worked , could you find

true love by being a tart just the once and hoping you'd found the man of

your dreams ? She closed her eyes and shook her head before saying out loud

, "a tart is a tart , is a tart " . Then she farted , giggled helplessly

as the bubbles disappeared . She thought of her friend Vicky , she was

like her , very shy and hiding her figure behind frumpy clothes , she'd

given herself away , only she'd got pregnant and the lad ran a mile , then

her mother threw her out , so she ended up running away to London to have

an abortion . Helen closed her eyes and shivered at the thought of it ,

she turned the hot tap with her big toe , she was determined that would

never happen to her . Why she'd even gone on the pill so determined was

she .

She just wished she'd meet somebody who was gentle and kind who

could make her laugh , and above all was not so fast , she wanted to be

courted , in fact she wanted to tell him , "you can put your hand on mybreast now" ,

perhaps she was longing for the 50s , even though now it

was nearing the millennium . She wasn't looking for a man with a book in

his hand all the time and she wasn't looking for a body builder either ,

Martin was just perfect only the one time he got carried away and had

touched her bum with one hand and felt her breast with his other hand ,

and without asking either . So naturally she'd kneed him in the groin ,

what else was she to do ? In fact the men at work called her "frigid"

behind her back , but she had to have standards didn't she ? It had been

the first time she'd ever closed her eyes , normally she'd keep

them open so she could keep a lookout for any roving hands , then the

first time she had relented and that had happened . Perhaps one day she'd

love and trust somebody enough to give into her animal insticts , but she

just wasn't ready now .

The bath water was getting cold now ,so she got out of the bath

and dried herself in front of the mirror , once she was dry she'd try on

her new clothes . She had bought some red skimpy underwear , a red knee

length skirt and a tight fitting blue top , as she got dressed she began

to laugh , if only people could see her now and when she got some

contacts she'd be really knockout . Then she sighed , she'd tried lots of

bright colours over the past three months , but in her heart of hearts she

knew she'd never wear them in public , she just didn't have the confidence

besides every time she looked at herself in the mirror the only word that

sprang to mind was "Tart" . But she would at least wear her contacts , it

was at least a start wasn't it ?So slowly and sadly she changed back into

her frumpy clothes , nobody would ever see her at her best . Except the

fourteen year old lad named Michael who had been watching through the

window from the house next door , for in her rush Helen had forgotten to

close the curtains . EndSep00The Watch and Me ©

By

Michael Casey

I suppose my love affair with the watch started when I was just a child

now 30 years on the passion is still there . I remember lifting up my

dad's shirt sleeve to look at the watch on his wrist , watching the second

hand sweep around and asking what time was it , not that I really

understood the concept of time , I knew midnight was always dark , that

was about it really . Oh apart from some special time called "opening

time" and "closing time" , our lodgers would pay their rent at the back

door before rushing off to the pub , it was a mystery to me .

A cousin of ours was to be ordained a priest in Dublin , so dad and

2 of my brothers went off to Dublin for the ceremony . I remember Tony

coming back with a watch on his wrist , it had a black strap and had a

small face , then at the bottom was separate dial with a second hand on

it , we all thought it was very posh . So being children we now used this

dial to see how long we could hold our breath , we'd take a deep breath

and pump up our cheeks then Tony waved his hands and we'd start our

endurance test . Only stopping when we fell over our faces brilliant red

and our eyes bulging . I remember Tony seemed to win this game always ,

not because he cheated but because he loved under water swimming so had

mastered holding his breath . Then we had a contest to run down the yard

past the hedge to the bottom of the garden and touch the fence and

come back and touch the wall of the house , we were all young and mad then

but such simple fun was all because we had a watch with a second hand .

Jim was our lodger for 20years , when he'd been with us for 11 years

I badgered him for a present , for a watch . if I passed the 11 plus exam.

Finally he gave in and gave me his own 2nd best watch , in fact I got itbefore I even

sat the exam . So the watch Jim gave me was my first watch

ever . The trouble with leather watch straps is that they dig into your

flesh , so you loosen the strap but then the watch dangles , so I

compromised by using stretch straps , then you can slide a stretch strap

all the way up your arm , until it feels comfortable . I also always liked

mechanical watches , it was a night time ritual , taking my watch off and

winding it up , setting the time against the chimes of Big Ben on the

radio . So you can see just how important a watch is to me . There is just

one thing I've forgotten to mention , watches always break . Well when I

wear them anyway . For the past 20 years as a computer operator I'm always

carrying something and banging my watch on doors or whatever . So they

break , leaving my watch in the bathroom while I take a bath was another

of my bad habits . Watches steam up on me , or the winder gets rusty and

breaks off , or I break the glass , or the glass falls out . Once the

glass fell out , so I glued it back again , only to make a mess of the job

and glue the hands of the watch together as well . Finally I decided to

get a quartz watch , they were accurate , only my sweaty wrist steamed up

the face constantly , so I couldn't read the time . On average a watch

lasts me 1 year , my sister Mary always laughs every time I show her my

latest new watch . A simple Lorex watch was the best one I ever had , its

lasted 5 years . However I must confess that it has only lasted me that

long because when dad was in hospital after mum had died and he had nearly

died too he wanted a watch so he could pass the time , by looking at the

watch , so he'd know when his next meal was , the fact that there was a

clock on the wall not 2 yards away did not matter . Of course I took the

watch off my wrist and gave it to him . he was my dad and I loved him , so

if a watch would please him , he could have mine . That was 4 years ago ,

dad is called the miracle man , by the doctors , he beat death , dad'stime was up and

the grim reaper made an appearance twice , but dad is

still alive and kicking , my watch ticking on his wrist . Or so it was

until last month . Jie Jie my Chinese wife bought me a fancy watch for my

Birthday so I gave dad my watch , a fancy Esprit model , and I retired the

old one , but I have kept it as a souvenir , we all thought dad would die

in weeks , but his heart is still ticking as strong and reliable as a

Rolex watch . I think when we all die , if we are not worthy of Paradise

immediately God will issue us with a Rolex and we have to wear it for a

billion years , until we are worthy of Paradise . God's watch is the

turning tides , the movement of the stars across the heavens and

rumbling super novas , after all didn't time begin with creation . It is

us stupid mankind who try to limit it to a dial on a watch .

EndThe Light from a Candle ©

By Michael Casey

I watched as the candle's life ended, smoke spiralled in the air. I tried to see where

the

smoke was going only it just disappeared into nothingness. Another candle came to

an end,

but suddenly it reared up a final flicker of flame then it was gone, black smoke twirling

into

the air. I strained to see where the smoke was going only it was no use. I'd need a

magnifying glass, binoculars, a microscope or a periscope, smoke just could not be

followed.

Another candle went out again I strained to see where its life had gone, but it was no

use,

the trail disappeared into nothingness. The candles were going out randomly, I had to

jump

from one to another in a vain attempt to see its moment of death, so that I could

observe

what was happening to them. In all 7 maybe 8 candles "died" as I watched from my

position

sat next to the candle rack in the cathedral on my lunch break. That was all

yesterday, and

today the process was repeated. Each candle is a hope, a wish, a prayer. Just as

Jazz

music is music turned into smoke, that weavers and sneaks its way through an

audience, a

candle and its smoke is a living flame of hope and love which we all hope will touch

God's

spirit and let him hear our prayers. The smoke from a candle is like a ballet dancer

doing the

most intricate of dances, its like girl dancing with a ribbon at the Olympics. Only the

candle

and its smoke might say more for us when we can't think of the right words to say,

God Help

Us, can be all we can say, but if said from the heart then it is enough, For Faith

Moves

Mountains.

And candles are more than flickers that end in smoke, they remind us of the Light

and Warmth of God's Love

*****

well Tinnitus continues to kill me, its the worse thing ever in my life

and yes I've had much pain and sorrow

that's why I face the other way and do Comedy

or my version of it

It's self therapy 

Now go out and  make at least one person a day smile

and no there are no naked photos of 

ME ,

i'm more like the Elephant Man covered in scars

thank you for the card Martina in Kerry, and hello to all the Casey Clan too

I'd email you all  if I had an email address, but 40 first cousins and with the next generation

we are talking 100s of Caseys and I never forget the family farm too

Dan Casey and Willie looked after you, with Maggie Ralerty next door neighbour

and. before I forget hello to the other side of the family in Cromane and Ballyheigh

1973 Christmas, me and my  dad did the tour with Delia

and in 1977 and 1978 Christmases me alone ,I taught you the Dying Fly Dance

such great memories, which are like a candle the dark 

making me so so happy

teach your kids to fly..