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Russian Eye View

michaelgcasey Uncategorized 27/03/2019 6 Minutes

Russian Eye View ©
By
Michael Casey

Now I seem to be getting more and more Russian readers, so I’m going to tempt Fate and write something with them in mind. I did write something with Polish readers in mind once, and my Polish figures dropped off, but they may have just finished reading the best bit. I did get 21,000 Polish readers in under 3 weeks for a Polish Translation of The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker which is still on my sites. Lately all manner of readers have enjoyed my comic novel in a variety of languages, all over the world, its all on my WordPress site too, just find my Blogger ID and follow the link. https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com/
THOUGH I’D PREFER YOU TO BUY THE ENGLISH
https://www.amazon.co.uk/l/B00571G0YC

Now a History lesson for the rest of the world. I once did an Open University course 3^rd level in History and one in Shakespeare also at 3^rd level. There was a lecture at York University Summer School, and guess what all the other History Doctors of History attended. The lecture was on the Eastern Front, i.e. RUSSIA. And what did the Doctor of History say? The War, World War Two as we call it, was won on the Eastern Front. If the Nazi bastards were not defeated there and tied up there then the Dday invasion could not have happened.

Think about that, and think would Nuclear Weapons have been used on Berlin to end the war? And that’s why Russia feels the way it does, it had the Nazi bastards in their backyard, in their living room and in their cellar, every _____ where. We in the West are generally ignorant of the Eastern front. Now we can argue about post war and so on, but you have to understand what Russia suffered. Just as we need to be aware of the Famine in Ireland, and the Civil War in USA. It’s only by understanding the background of a People’s suffering that you can appreciate their Present.

I hope Russia accepts I’m just a Fool hoping to make everybody laugh, I’ll poke fun at everybody, but I hope I do it with love, like your fat silver haired writer uncle in shades from Birmingham the one in England. I might also add my Lech, Boris and Gregorgi stories are about Polish,Ukrainian and Russian first cousins. You can find the stories if you search my site.

Now where was I, in the shed trying to have a quiet toilet, only there is a rumbling noise, I’m trying to pooh, and I hear this noise, how can I concentrate. I’m about to clean myself, there is a gun shot whistling through my beautiful silvery hair. Then I scream as a hairy claw scratches my behind. Gregorgi has shot a bear dead while I was on the toilet, the toilet is an old oil drum with a wooden seat on top. We are in the Arctic circle, do you think you get 5 star plumbing everywhere? I’m in a primitive outside toilet next to where the Huskies live.

Well, at least you’ll have a new fur coat says Gregorgi, and a bit of meat to share too. He then examines my bum, and the Huskies take turns to lick it. The indignity of it all, is this how Russians treat their guest from Birmingham. Though I do like the way the gun shot has parted my beautiful soft silvery hair, I look more like my mother than ever.

Gregorgi throws me over his shoulder and takes me back inside the quadruple or is it quad roubles glazed living quarters. At least I have pulled my trousers up by then. Once inside he reaches for the vodka, now if Lech and Boris were here the’d debate the merits of Polish, Ukrainian and Russian vodka. While sampling several bottles of each. But we are in Russia with Gregorgi so we are drinking, or rather he is drinking Japanese vodka, left behind by tourists.

He swishes the Japanese vodka around like a wine expert and tells me to drop my trousers and show him my bum. I was scratched by a bear, so he has to check for infection. His wife laughs heartily, she is busy sharpening her knives prior to skinning and butchering the newly dead bear. Gregorgi spits Japanese vodka on my bum, that’s to protect you from infection he intones.He wouldn’t waste good Russian vodka on my bum, that’s why he picked the Japanese variety from his small supply of 100 litre bottles. Up in the Arctic you have to have plenty of everything, just in case.

He then leads me to a room and asks me to get on an exercise bike, only I have to sit side saddle as my left buttock is bear scratched. I had the same problem as a child 50 years ago when I fell on a bolt hold an old Anderson air raid shelter together. So when my brother came home from Oxford University I had to show him my 1/2 metre of plaster, from my waist to just above my knee bend. Months later my GP removed the stitches on the doctor’s couch, only he left one in and I pulled that one out myself. So your family is clever said Gregorgi, but you are the one who always has a pain in his arse. He laughed and laughed, and knocked over a pile of still wet icons.

So as I got on the bike he explained, I was to top up the batteries and get some fat off my arse at the same time. In the room they painted icons for the Japanese tourists. I thought you had to be a Priest to paint icons? I am, I got a certificate online from Trump University, I am a priest. He then explained how each icon took 40 hours to make, and was made with love and prayers. He got the certificate so he could honestly say painted by a priest. They had to make as much money as possible while the season was on after all. His 9 children were all priests too, he bought a family Priest certificate from the Trump University. Good economics I said, my other brother did economics at Cambridge. He must be clever too Gregorgi intoned like a priest, but you still are the little brother with the pain in his arse. He laughed even more now.

3 hours later sweating like a pig I was allowed off the bike, I had topped up every battery he had. He’d bought them from the old Soviet Army discount store. Then he let the huskies in to lick the sweat off me, it was a treat for them, they loved licking sweat off. His wife had finished butchering the bear by now and was slightly blood spattered. A kind of Kill Bill Parts 1 to 5.

Then we had dinner. His friend Olga was going to drop in and fly me to the airport, she could fly a helicopter blindfolded. And when the weather descended she often did. So my trip was over, he handed me an icon, it had an angel on it. I reached for my wallet, don’t insult me said Gregorgi, just tell everybody in your blog to come and visit the Russian Arctic circle.They can buy one for themselves. Just bring some of your Cadburys chocolate from Birmingham, the huskies love it, if the kids let them have a tiny bit. With that Gregorgi kissed me, Olga send him back to Birmingham, but give him a cushion for his sore arse.  To the sound of Gregorgi’s laughter Olga started her helicopter, she was smiling as only a Russian girl can.

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Published by michaelgcasey

I'm Michael Casey from Birmingham England, the fat silver haired writer in shades. Beware of Others with the exact same name, they are not me, and would not want to be me. Not unless they like arthritis, look for the silly photos, not the stereo-typical "I am a writer" photos which I hate. michaelgcasey is what you should look for and the TRANSLATIONS GALORE here on this site so tell all your friends all over the world, or just in your street. Remember too the click to Translate Button, so all of you everywhere can "suffer" my words. I write HUMOUR, with English Spellings, a relative of Arron's(only joking) https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC for my 17 books you can email, but scam emails are deleted unread, with due respect nobody ever opens or replies to contact me on a DIFFERENT email to the sending one. email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com BUT WITH a good subject line I'm Michael Casey or just look for michaelgcasey, all one word. or just look for my face,

waiting up for my daughter to return from Drake concert

waiting up for my daughter to return from Drake concert
its 00.27am no sound of taxi yet
yesterday Tuesday was a pain and a half day.

It's boring for you all to hear me bitch about pain but sadly it's part of my life

chronic pain means 50% + of your time in some level of pain

so that's me. Started in 2013 with just arthritis, then the joys of  post quadruple heart bypass

 pain. I won't bore you with any more, tonight.

here's  a random piece to keep you going.

it was the cat's 4th Birthday. 

A Cat’s Tale ©

By Michael Casey

As you all know we have a cat, or as on DT reader said, the cat has you. You do not own a cat, you are just part of its world. The cat allows you to feed it and look after it, the cat, or Totoro as our kitten is called is just playing with us. Totoro knows he has nine lives, and 4 people queuing up to stroke him, though we discovered he was in fact a she. That was Totoro’s first deception, if he was a male maybe we wouldn’t have as much work to do. 

Totoro just loves running and I mean running around the house and bouncing from one new settee to another, in between diving at the scratch post we bought. Then he’ll or rather she’ll wait next to a door so she can bounce around the next room. She likes diving from the old sofa to the piano, and then to the bookcase and a with a flip over the old covered orange chair to the front room window windowsill. I’m sure she’s on drugs. Whenever I take out my bag of medicine she always wants to dive inside. Perhaps in another life she was a drugs dealer, she just loves trying to get into my bag of heart medicine.

So as she has had her two inoculations I decided to let her have more supervised play time in the garden, I don’t believe in cats being house cats, cats like walking on fences and howling at the moon. So Totoro was good and came back when I shook the bag of cat treats, £1 from Poundland, in fact Totoro would sell her soul for a cat treat. This worked fine for a day or so. Then maybe it was the hot weather the cat disappeared, I’d been having an afternoon rest, much needed  after cardiac surgery, so I had to investigate the case of the missing kitty.

We looked high and low, you have to as kittens can climb, eventually my small daughter found her asleep in the store where we keep the grass cutters. It was a warm and secure place, so obviously that was where Totoro chose to sleep. Later on Totoro  decided to have another adventure, she disappeared up the alley and over fences, to have tea with the other cats. Tea could be a metaphor for many things. Four fools went ashearching, the kitten just laughed, we must have spent a couple of hours in the pursuit. The neighbourhood cats just laughed looking on from roof tops and from back bed room windows, where they were watching budding computer geniuses when they weren’t looking out the window.

As twilight fell Totoro allowed herself to be caught, kittens control owners, it is never the other way around. So relieved Totoro was borne home and lauded and fed. So Totoro went to bed happy with a smile on her face, maybe plotting her next big adventure. Today the sun had its hat on, the hottest day of the year, so Totoro had her next plan ready. I’d been up at the secondary school to do some admin for my small daughter’s transfer, the sun had its hat on, but Totoro had her coat on.

I let her out for supervised play the

n she disappeared, first up a tree like a tree surgeon or even a mountain climber, how can kittens climb so fearlessly, I pretended to be a dog in an effort to get her to come back, but this did not work. I shaked the cat treats, but she was not interested, so this kitten had no soul to sell. My brother would have sold his soul for a Rolo as a child but Totoro was soulless.

I went on the school run and came home with a concerned child, so she prayed to Saint Martin de Porres  again, asking him to bring back Totoro home. It had worked yesterday twice, so would this be third time lucky. I told her cats like traveling, they have several owners, and even several aliased, and get fed by all. Not to worry, and if Totoro loved us then she would return.

I then went for my post cardiac rest, you cannot worry too much about a cat when you have to listen to your body. Nearly six months post op and still a lot of pain and new pain from my old arthritis, besides we had cats for 30 years at home, I know cats can look after themselves.

When I arose, like Dracula, they gave me Iron tablets last week, anyway the cat had come running after her name had been called. All’s well that ends well, as some fellow writer from down the road from my house once said. You just have to trust a cat’s nature, she isn’t worried about you, she’s just plotting to do just exactly what she wants to do. A cat owns you and you just have to accept it, she’ll please herself, she has her own life to lead, nine in fact, and you are just lucky if she shares one of them with you.

Pain monster comes out to play

Pain monster comes out to play
so probably no new story today
but there are 100s here on Wordpress  and 1000s on my Blogger site
so   here's an old piece about pain

Pain Fear and God ©
By Michael Casey

Today is Good Friday, the day Jesus was crucified. Hugo Chavez is praying for his life we are told. So it makes me wonder when do we, all of us pray? I have to declare an interest straight away, I've had tennis elbow for nearly 4 months now and boy oh boy does it hurt. I cannot lift anything, not even the kettle. This would be bad enough in itself but for the fact that I've ricked my back badly. In fact the pain is the worst I've ever had in my life.

So Hugh is praying to be spared, I'm doing a bit of praying too, but my breath is being taken away by pain. The smell of Deep Heat fills our house, the girls retreat to the garden for fresh air. I can stand for 10 mins or sit and write here for 30mins, after that I have to lie down because the pain is so much. I don't want to pop pips so Deep Heat and hot baths are my tools of choice. My mother used to have bucket loads of pain killers for her bad back but she never took them, she just used to collect them over the pantry door. "Jeekus" she used to wince and half scream through her pain. So I hope its not hereditary.

We all pray when we are in pain, we pray the pain will end soon. Perhaps pain helps teaches us humility, everything sure is in perspective when all you can think of is your elbow or your back. My back has been playing up for 2 weeks on this occasion, how people live in pain and in wheelchairs makes me wonder. My Aunty Mary was in a wheelchair for the last 13years of her life after a stroke,  her rosary keep her sane. We have test cases for the right to die, after my own pain filled recent experiences I see things more fully, through the prism of pain. I applaud pain relief experts, I have to lie down now  for a bit before I write any more.

My daughter just threw "TonY" her toy at me so I'll get up and finish. Pain can destroy us, but it does clear the clutter of our daily lives, it makes us remember and enjoy the real things in our lives. I really enjoy the taste of food, the experience is heightened, ordinary food tastes like a 5star restaurant experience, and I may just be talking about a bit of toast and peanut butter. If when I finally get better I can remember the real values, of nice simple food, and enjoying watching tv with my kids then all the pain will be worth it. Yes I know I'll get negative replies to this but, I always learn the hard way which is the best way. Yes I hope I'll never be in such pain again,  but if all our lives we live a feather bed existence then we are not really experiencing life.  Life includes pain.

*************
I must have written that several years go, now I have even more varieties of pain.

Waiting For?

Waiting For? ©

By

Michael Casey

Well what are you waiting for today? I’m waiting for some news, and for the kids to come home from school, and then there is the little matter of the Lottery. It’s the only way I could give my girls a good start in life, if I were rich I’d do what my dad always said he’d do. He said he’d buy everybody a house, so I’d like to do the same, a house, a car and a puppy dog, and a bit of money too. It’s not gonna happen, it’s like expecting Trump not to lie.

Though if any Media people finally find me, a house, a big house, a car and a puppy dog is my Price, as well as 10million Pounds not Pence, and yes all after tax. Jeff Bezo where are you? We can all wait expectantly but reality kicks in and we know we have been waiting  in vain. But there is always hope. Like an airline crash and people wait near the notice boards, not understanding why the delay. Then the priests appear and you know something bad, very bad has happened. Hope evaporates into reality.

That’s killed the piece I’m writing, but hope is always there while we are waiting. We wait for exam results and our whole life depends on it, or so our kids think. The nails are bitten, the downcast looks pervade, girls hug each other, then finally the envelopes are passed out. At Cambridge I believe results used to be posted on a door for 300 years, then Political Correctness pervaded, so they are now passed out surreptitiously, as if they are STD results. God Help Us.

People are obsessed with being Cool, whatever that is. So they hide their feelings and get stress related illnesses instead. People pretend while they are waiting for this or that. For their first baby to be born, or their 6^th. Or the reverse can be true with Reality TV, over large emotions, while they are waiting for the lift to arrive, that’s elevator if you are American. People do different things while they are waiting. They may even read Waiting for Godot, if they are suffering it in English as I did.

I’ve just remember when I was waiting for a plane at Skipol on Good Friday 1998, on the way to Czech and Prague, I suffered something real bad. There was an American family, and the daughter was reading aloud in a monotone from the guide book to Prague. Her dad with a beard, it’s coming back to me now, listened attentively. I just thought what an agony for me over Easter. I must have prayed for deliverance, American tourists do deserve the reputation they have gained.

As for me I had a doctor as my host, with EuroAd model English teacher as a penfriend in Czech waiting for me. Who needs guide books? The big thing I remember was that I went to Easter Midnight Mass in Plzen or Pilsner to give it it’s European name. Yes the home of Larger and I was working for a market research company into alcohol sales back then. I also met a professional model while I was on holiday there and she visited Birmingham for a month and I taught her English, but that’s another story, Patricie Vaklova.

Back to Mass, the Mass lasted forever, as every possible permutation of Mass was included that Easter. Mass, with Baptism, Communion, Confirmation on top of regular Easter Mass. It lasted 3 hours, and my bladder was waiting to explode. YES EXPLODE. Then when it ended, I had to gate crash a hotel to empty my bladder. I just could not wait. So with empty bladder I asked the bouncer “do you speak English?” yes he replied, so I asked for the little bridge with statues. Only the bouncer could not help. He could speak English, but only “yes I speak English” So I asked a girl in the pitch dark, only she had not just been to Midnight Easter Mass, she was probably a prostitute, it was 3am now. So I blundered about and finally found the way home to my Dr host’s place.

Well my own daughter has just come home, she’s waiting for her 1^st set of mock GCSE results. She’s also waiting for her dinner, so I think enough of the waiting, now it’s time to be a waiter.