Light and Life

Light and Life  ©

By Michael Casey

Well I’ve not been strong enough to write for a couple of days, Arthur getting the upper hand, so now that the pain has lessened, I’ve decided to write something new. Though Arthritis is a bastard and does work like a roadblock to creativity, if that does not sound too pretentious. If you cannot think straight then it’s hard to write, that’s less pretentious.

Twitter is ok for one-liners and so it’s easy to heckle from Twitter even though you are in pain. I have had fun with Steven Fry, as he left Twitter after the bag lady joke was attacked by the PC idiots. So I invented a series of things Steven Fry might be doing instead at my house. As I speak he is polishing the girls’ shoes ready for school in the morning. Then he has to make their pack lunches ready for school, the school does run out of food on occasion, so it’s safer to have a packed lunch, otherwise you get an afternoon wilt.

So where was I? I remember I was going to write about Light and Life, and how did I chose tonight’s topic? Our bulb died, so there you have it, something happens and that’s enough to trigger a story from the soup. The soup being the word that covers my life experience, ether may be a posher word, but as you know I’d never claim to be posh, eclectic yes, posh no.

Light makes a home, if you have no light you would just go to bed and make babies, perhaps we should all remove the light bulbs from our homes and we’d all be a lot happier. Mothercare would be happier too, their share price would rise too.

Dad always used to nag us when we left lights on in the hall or on the landing, he would sometimes work 16 hour shifts in the steelworks, so he did not want to waste his sweat. My brothers used to burn the midnight oil, so that they could learn enough to get into a good University. One brother bought a fancy angle-poise lamp when he got to Oxford, when me and another brother went to visit we saw it on his desk at Queens. Having a fancy lamp was a status symbol, my brother still has that lamp in his attic, nearly 50 years on. History has now repeated itself as my eldest daughter now has her very own little lamp, she hopes to be a doctor, God Help Us.

Little things do matter, such as light, a night light is a life saver, children are so afraid of the dark. There is so much fear of the dark, but a little plastic night light does make a difference, or sleeping with the curtains open, or having a light on in the landing. Your very own torch beside your bed or in the bed with you is a great thing. Suddenly you are not alone, the monsters cannot get you because the light is on, or you have a super torch that will destroy monsters with just one flick of the switch.

I can remember my own first torch, maybe 50 years ago, we got it at Christmas from Radfords, It was black on the outside and here was the amazing thing, it had 2 filters on it that could change the beam colour, either red or blue, as well as the normal torch light beam. We were so excited when we got it, we shone it on the ceiling in the big front bedroom. Then we put our fingers in front of the beam trying to make all manner of shapes on the ceiling, normal kids’ stuff.

Two weeks ago we had a power cut so I invested in 2 new torches, and to my child’s delight I discovered the beam was really strong, it has 7 lcd bulbs inside, so the beam is so strong and long. Yes I did annoy the neighbours in the dark, but I’m 7 again while they are just old farts,

  my Indiana Jones pose

Crawling like a worm in the dirt

Crawling Like a Worm in The Dirt, humbled by a photo copier ©

By Michael Casey

 This is one piece from essay/blog postings, I type fast so excuse any mistakes.

 Well this is my 100th post, I had hoped I could think up something nice or even spectacular. This is what I've come up with. I'm laughing now as I type. Yesterday 5minutes after I started work I bent down to fill up the copiers. I filled one, then another, then I did a third. I then screamed, I had straightened up too fast and had ricked/strained my back on the right hand side. So these past 27hours have been a lesson in pain and humility. I felt such a fool at work, the girls I work were both sympathetic and funny. Somebody came by for some coloured paper , I bent down to look under our shelf and I was racked with pain, one girl told me to crawl away out of the way so that she could find it instead. I hobbled away, out of the way. The rest of day I moved about like an 80 year old, rather like my own dad. I hoped that on my lunch break while I sat for 30mins in the cathedral my back would be restored. We stand all day in our print as some of you may remember me mention. Prayer and rest for 30mins no doubt aided my soul but not my back. I went back to work and hobbled about for a couple of hours. Then I decided I really had to go home and rest.

Getting home I got off the bus and had to walk only 300yards, a crippled Charlie Chaplin kind of walk, though I look more like Oliver Hardy. I was home 2 hours earlier than normal so the family were surprised.

I told them I was fired as a joke. Then I sat down on an old chair and then I could hardly move. Standing up again was an  impossibility. Last Friday we had a drama with my youngest, this Friday, Friday 13th it was my turn. My girls all laughed at me, just as I would laugh at them if the tables were reversed. Night came and knew I could never climb the stairs to bed, but at least our bathroom was downstairs. So I tumbled onto our sofa and got ready to spend the night there. Only we have a glass coffee table in front of it and I was afraid of falling off onto it. So at 1am I staggered up the stairs like a drunk with locked joints, then I rolled onto my bed, screaming as I did so. I did sleep, but in the morning I had to slither out like a snake sliding out of bed on my belly. Some positions were possible and some were not. My wife laughed till she cried my youngsters did too, as for me, I laughed and cursed and laughed again. My wife went to see the pharmacy man for advice and a spray for me. The pharmacist laughed too, he's an old friend. When she got back I was all sprayed up, the old spray and the newly bought one drenching me and my room with the stench of a bad back. I slithered in and out of bed, crawling around as I couldn't stand up straight. As for getting down stairs that would be an impossibility. My wife went shopping, stopping first to steal my debit card, laughing she left me in my bed of pain. When she returned she gave me yoghurt and orange juice. Later I just had to go downstairs, but I couldn't walk. I slithered off bed like snake, then made it to my hands and knees, then an inspired idea. I bounced down the stairs one step at a time, on my butt , one step at a time. Then I crawled across our living room and pulled myself up onto a chair. I did notice that we needed a new carpet after 20years our carpet does need replacing. I then rewarded myself by stealing my wife's pork she'd just made.

Later after some movements like belly dancer of 120 years old, I managed to straighten up. I do walk as if I have a full diaper though. I made it too my big chair in front of my computer. And that’ s how I got to write this 100th post.

The moral of all this? Well I am a very bad patient. Health is the most important thing in our lives. I rejoice that my girls have a good sense of humour, even if I am the butt of it all. Last year when I had food poisoning they had plenty to laugh about then. And I do laugh at that memory. We are all worms crawling in the dirt. It is God's love that lifts us up, as does our family life. Sometimes it is only though pain and adversity that we learn such truths, sometimes we learn mundane things, but they too have meaning for us, even if its just the fact that we need a new living room carpet. 

600 stories ago, now my back bust again but we do now  have a new carpet 8 years on

 

This Is

This Is ©

By Michael Casey

This is the dead watch that never stops

This is the time spent but never over

This is the clock ticking down to death

This is the alarm to waken us but is ignored

These are the minutes saved to postpone the grave

These are the years that observe our hair grow white

These are the precious moments stolen but loved so much

This is the time made to make love

These are the children made because we made time to make love

This is the laughter as children run around spending all our money

This is the love gained from the children as they love you

This is the ticking clock which is our life

This is the clock slowing as our life ebbs and flows

This is the clock stopped for just a moment when your other half dies

This is the lonely ticking echoing and all alone

This is the sound of silence, as you the clock stop

There is no more ticking, just the silence of the grave

Tick Toc Tick Toc Stop

Valentine Poem

      Michael G Casey email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com 

              You're Never Alone When You Are in Love ©

                               By

     

                         Michael Casey

       Love is being together , Love is a smile , a Look , A Touch

       Or Just A Sigh , Not really knowing why you chose one another .

       Yet Together Till You Die

      

       Love is a Kiss soft and gentle on the cheek which warms your

       heart and makes you glad you chose one another .

       A Kiss can lead to more but I'll leave Passion locked Safely

       behind a bedroom door

       Passion spent you'll not give up each not even for Lent .

       You'll just lie in warm embrace and remember you forgot to say

       grace .

       Whispers and Promises are made , plans for the future and if

      she put her hair this way , Do you think it would suit her ?

      Then giggles and more embraces ,  Till the Night is over and with 

      a dig in the ribs you make him move over .

      Then your oneness complete , you have to put up with his cold feet !

      But when you are apart your hearts are still one ,

     Thought half is  absent you are still one .

      His socks under the bed , and after what you said .

      His  "toys" scattered about ,  and the clout you'll  give  when  he

      returns and the warmth of your body he yearns .

      His cold feet to chill you after he thrills you , are absent yet the

      thought makes you smile , at least you have the comfort for  a while.

      His grins and leers ,  which makes you smile at least  you'll  have

      peace for a while .

      But his heart is still with you , the love is always there - as

      bright as your fair hair .

      Close your eyes and he is still there ,  Remember the embrace as 

      he played his fingers across your face .

      Let your dreams go and remember the whispers in your ear, warm

      kisses on your shoulder before he gets bolder . The warmth of love

      that soars through your blood .

      Dream long , Dream deep , your Man toils while you sleep, though

      you are apart you are still together whatever the weather , for you

      are never apart for he is  locked in your heart .

      Though sometimes he can be trying , there's Never any need of

  

      crying for your love is Undying.

      Always remember he fills your heart even when you are apart

                        End

                           

                                           see I'm all heart