Pizza and Rice

JULY 9TH, 2010 13:23

Pizza and Rice

I wouldn’t say I have a love affair with frozen food, say pizza, nor that I like my bacon sandwiches so much. Its just that I used to work such odd hours. Getting home at 9pm doesn’t encourage you to get Delia’s book out and be creative. You just want something quick, as its 6 hours or so since your late lunch at 3pm. It may even be nearly 10pm when you get home, after doing a workfavour for somebody. So now your stomach does think that your throat has been cut, it rumbles away as you sit on the bus, other passengers think its the deep base of somebody’s personal stereo. Once home its flick Sky on grab dinner from the freezer, in 10 minutes time the dinnertime Pizza is ready, washed down by two mugs of  milky coffee. If Delia has got 1/2 a page left to fill  she could just squeeze it into one of her books.

Time moves on and I’m married and we have two little girls. Rice is on the menu daily,  you need a degree in Oriental Languages to know whats in the fridge. I have a Shanghai wife who really can cook. Chopsticks make an appearance, as does the spoon shovelling techniques for eating. I can come home to find movement in the kitchen sink, its alive and will soon be dinner, its a crab. Fish is being cooked too, the rice cooker is on, you would not believe just how fluffy and nice rice can be. Before Shanghai, I’d have scoffed at the idea of rice being so different, Ambrosia creamed rice from a tin was the height of my experience, now I scoff nice rice. My wife goes to the Korean shop to buy the rice as it tastes so good. We are lucky we have a huge Ying Yip down the road a few miles too. Once dinner is ready there are 3 or 5 dishes on the table, Phoenix is of the TV too. I think my wife only came around to my house in the first place all those years ago because I had Chinese tv, either that or she really loved my frozen pizza. Ocassionally there are prawn crackers on offer, you really have to be quick to make these or you’ll burn them and yourself.

My dad used to have a bowl of corn flakes as a snack before bedtime if he was peckish, I do the same. Cereals tend to be my breakfast too as they are so quick and easy to make, well they make themselves. My wife likes snacks too, but they can seem tasteless to a Western tongue. However biscuits and cakes from Sainsbury’s are a delight for her, if I search hard enough I can find them, our girls love them too. You have to understand if you follow the Eastern diet then you are very slim, both of my girls are slim and tall, so to fall of the Eastern diet is a treat. Going to the chip shop for them is a bit of a wonder, they get “takeaway” every day at home, so chips is a treat. As for me my diet has improved as I have the left overs, though I still weigh 3 times more than my size 0 wife. As for me and Delia, we do have one thing in common, and I don’t mean our love of food, Delia and Me are catholics.

FAMILY FEATURES

I was thinking about what to talk about today, as I need to practice my writing skills, Eric Clapton once said in an interview that if you don't practice you could lose your gifts, so practice. So this is what I'm thinking about today.

Our kids, all of our kids inherit things from their parents. Beauty or lack of it, freckles and red hair or not. Being a bonnie baby or not, being quiet or not. Our first daughter was very quiet and did not wake us up in the night. However the 2nd one was the opposite, if she was the 1st one then maybe we wouldn't have bothered with a 2nd. Ask your own friends for their experiences. Our 1st one was born in the early hours, I got home at 3am and had to explain to my Shanghai mother in law that it was a daughter. A week previously I had been to my brother's house where we loaded up an estate car, Steve from Steve's takeaway had helped. My brother had saved everything from his kids and now he passed it on to me.Then once home me and the mother in law had constructed the cot, without any common language between us, it took 1.5hours. Today it would take 1/2 that time as the mother in law understands a lot more English and I'm much better at contructing flat packs.

Our 1st girl  was born almost on Padre Pio's own Birthday, he being the Saint who'd started the ball rolling so to speak. Our daughter was big, like me I suppose. But she has perfect Chinese hair, the kind of hair girls would kill for. Look at the photos here and judge for yourself. Apart from that I suppose she looks very Western.

The thing you learn very fast when you have a baby is how to change nappies and get them and their smell out the house. You save all the plastic bags from shopping, and its a bit like wicket keeping, a catch and a throw and out the door. Ask any cricketers if nappy changing is as I've explained. I'm sure they'll agree.

As children grow then traits appear. Our 2nd child is very funny. Before she was born she was in Shanghai and her granddad was making my wife laugh. A child in the womb can hear, so our daughter would have heard all the laughter, as did her born sister. I think my wife was 8 months pregnant when she returned home. I can remember waiting at Heathrow after they'd had 2 months in Shanghai. My daughter was sitting on the luggage trolley being pushed by grandma, behind was my very pregnant wife. I was crying with happiness. And as the cot was already ready, no 1.5hours of lego like building.

Drawing is a delight for both my girls. My wife can do all fancy stuff, Caligraphy and Chinese letters etc. She even used to go drawing of some sort for the Police in Shanghai. One of my brothers is good too. So drawing is in both sides of the gene pool.

As kids grow the family features show. My big daughter looks like me when I was her age, its like Dr Who in a way, she is my past and I am her future, its a bit spooky as the resemblance is so very strong. My other daughter apparantly looks exactly like my wife when she was young. So Nature has given each of us, a clone so to speak. Our youngest  also has the fantasic hair too. You'd have to do some market research amongst your friends to see if all of them rate hair as the best thing to have. So long as neither of them go white early like me.

Social Secretary

Once you have kids you become a servant, sometimes till you die. Today our biggest girl was off to the bowling alley. Her friend was celebrating her birthday so her mum took her and her friends bowling. To be followed by Frankie and Benny's Pizza. A really good day out. We the parents have to get the child to the venue and organise a present and a card. Normal stuff, only in our house we have two calendars, one just besides me here where I'm talking from and another a much bigger kitchen calendar. So all the kids events  are marked out. Only there is one drawback, my wife will write things down in Chinese, not Pinyin , but your actual Chinese Chinese with all the fancy squiggles. Why didn't you tell me its Florences party tomorrow, how would I know, but its on the calendar, see right there, and JJ points to 23rd. Yes but that’s Chinese I explain, you're so stupid she replies before demanding my wallet so she can rush out to Asda's. I'm her Clever and Stupid husband you see, I'm her Panzi which means Fat Fat Boy. My calendar is prettier, but the Chinese one is  best as it has more room on.  Our smallest writes her Birthday on it just to make sure we don't forget. I told them that 30years ago or more we forgot our dad's birthday and his Birthday was on 11th NOV which is an impossible date to forget, but in a big household thesethings happen. My mum sent me upstairs to steal a fiver from dad's wallet and I had to get a box of Cadbury's Milk Tray. Now if in them days the Casey family had a huge calendar from China then we'd have not have forgotten. But when he spent his later years in a home he had twice as many visits as all the other residents put together. Padre Pio and Me on my site www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com explains it.I suppose we should have an excel spread sheet and that would cover everything, but it wouldn't be as much fun would it.

home

 Home ©

 by 

Michael Casey

Home is where  the heart is.

Homeless is outside a house looking in wishing it were your home.

Put into a Home is where due to circumstances a loved one has to be put into care.

As I talk to you this morning I have a drawing on the desk propped up by the computer speakers.

It’s a drawing of a girl with all her hair to one side, she has long eyelashes and is carrying a small bag.

Besides the biro drawing of the girl is a big heart and some stars, written above is “For Daddy.”

I have a notepad on the desk in front of the computer monitor so my girls love leaving drawings.

On the side of the fridge is this week’s spelling list, held there by magnets that aunty gave us.

On top of the fridge is a fruit bowl full of fruit and sweets.

By the fruit bowl is container full of pens and crayons, a shopping list in Mandarin beside it.

There are photos of family scattered about the house, in one corner photos of my mum and dad both long gone, but still much loved. When you get to Heaven you’ll see them is what I say to my girls.

We found a stilly photo of me so I put it on the shelf next to the huge red Chinese dictionary, the fairy from the Christmas tree  is also on that shelf waiting ever patiently for Christmas to return.

Behind me is a painting of an angel a Burne Jones copy, blowing a flute thing.

Girls shoes are scattered about the house, waiting to trip me up.

Behind the sofa in this room are two huge bags of soft toys, waiting  to escape.

Once my smallest is back home she’ll release the soft toys from their Jail.

Then she’ll line them up in rows and sitting on the teddy bear wooden stool she’ll be teacher.

All the toys have names and she’ll chide them as together they learn this week’s spellings.

Her big sister has her nose in a book, she’s determined to win a prize from the local library for reading the most books. I told her I read everything in the school library when I was young.

The sound of chickens comes from the living room LULU, not that lulu, but a chat show queen on Phoenix can be heard. Then my wife is on the phone while she shakes her big wok.

I look outside and am pleased to see my sea of shamrock, I transplanted it here many years ago, it nearly died during the harsh Winter we just had but now I have enough for all of Riverdance.

I’ll stop there for now.

But you can see what I’m on about. A home is a combination of all the things I’ve just talked about.

A home is a physical place, but it is much more than that. It’s the little things inside the house that turn it into a home. Such as the Looney Chick toy that I’m using as a cushion, my girls brought it back all the way from Shanghai last year, and now we use it as a cushion.

The drawings on the desk in front of me are done with love by my girls.

Sharing a pack of Rolos, even though you love them so much, this is home, this is family.

In the end, where there is love then there is a home. Without the love even if your home was better than a 5 star hotel, then it really wouldn’t be a home, it would be just a location.

For as we all know Home is where the Heart is.

Just send me something useful

I started watching Evan Almighty but it was too slow. Though it did remind me of a thought I was having. You see if you read Internet Story here at MYSun  or on my website www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com  then you'll know all about my writing passion IF that's not too strong a word for it. So yesterday I had a phone call offering cable tv, this gave me a germ of an idea which led to yesterday's post about Call Centre Calling. Then today I had an email offering 4600 channels in HD. Only the email came from Singapore. I know some email providers scan your emails and is it this that leads to junk emails. I now must get 60 a day, I just wish their computers died. However going back to films, Bridget Fonda and Nicolas Cage were in one film where a cop falls in love and shares his lottery with a cafe girl. You must have all seen it, its a great feel good movie. In the end he has nothing but his new true love, then New Yorkers post $10 dollars to them, so that finally they are not just happy in love but rich. In my story Internet Story the last line is "just send me $10." and no I hadn't seen the film when I wrote the tag line. In fact the BBC  banned my essay Internet Story because it Solicited money, they did not see the joke.

My line of thought is, why don't folks send me something useful, like an English translation of the Don Camillo stories which were written by Giovanni Guarechiti. But no all I get is rubbish emails, for viagra, from Barrister this or that, or from the office of Mr Big, Can I be trusted, can I help as they are dying of cancer but want to give me a Zillion pounds all in used fivers. I even get emails from myself. I don't know how to do that BUT I do know its quiet easy for any IT buff. They should just save their  energy, or get a girlfriend. Though now I have started this piece I'll ask for a  new central heating system, British Gas tried to overcharge me. I told the guy all I needed to do was wait as his quote was outrageous.  Then 3 weeks later they offer the job at 1/3 OFF. Or if we follow the premise of the lottery win film then folks can send me a 1 pound lucky dip. If there are any legal brains out there can you tell me if I'm ok to accept lottery tickets and would there be any comeback if I won willions. Do the folks need to write FREE TICKET on the back.

Now having written this email will I get lots more "you have won the lottery please send all your details" emails. Or will some nice company offer to replace my boiler. I could do with a new cooker too, its all gas stuff I need. OR should I cook on my own hot air.

Good Night Everybody as The Waltons used to say.

www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com 

Call Centre Calling

We all just love call centres, we all just love it when they call when we've just sat down on the toilet and we're expecting a call from grandma in Shanghai. So the phone rings and we dash for the Andrex and the sink to wash our hands in. Then still pulling up our pants, we fall down stairs just as Norman Wisdom or Brian Rix would do, then pulling up our pants and doing up our trousers’ belt we pass by the hall mirror and see the black eye we've just got. We answer the phone, there is a long long pause, as if the call centre  guy is having a final drag on his fag  before answering, "hi I'm Guy, could I interest you in cable tv,  I've got such a great package to offer." his voice  oh so so sexy, in his imagination anyway. Has he not heard of Sky, the best package.  So we swear in Shanghai dialect, and hang up the phone. Then we notice our trousers are split, the one's grandma in Shanghai had made for us, the trousers for her Panzi, her Fat Fat Boy son in law.

If only we could get revenge, just like in Bruce Almighty. A bottled water company rings, so we click our fingers and its as if the Dam Busters had breached that dam, a sodden girl will NEVER ring your number again. Then there's a knock at your door, its the Mormons, you smile and smile, and they start running away, only asking which way is the airport. Why? Well I'll leave that to your imagination. The phone rings again, so you do heavy breathing, only for a voice at the other end of the phone to say "I'm Sergeant Dixon, would you be interested in joining the neighbourhood watch scheme." "Sorry Wrong Number is your reply." You decide to change, you're half way up the stairs when the phone ring again, you turn and fall down the stairs again. Your wife is just in the door and she answers the phone,  she can see you over her shoulder, "I told you you were too fat for those trousers" You trip over again, "bloody call centres is all you can say."

My Old Age

I'm called "grandpa" by the teachers when I pick up my kids from school. Because my hair is prematurely white. In a way its a joke, but I am over 40 years older than my kids. I was a late starter, but I do have a young wife, who looks even younger because she's  from the East, Shanghai to be exact. In the East they respect Old Age, so I'm all in favour of that. But as for having a good old age, I think I'll be dead, I won't last that long. I'll have to work to at least 66, and maybe 67. So I'll be worn out by the time it comes to retire. My dad was a blacksmith and then spent 40years in a steel works, The District Iron and Steel in Brasshouse Lane Smethwick. Has a ring to it don't you agree? He retired a year or two early when the works was closed down. He had ten golden years with my mum, then mum died, then he had 5 years in an old people's home, read Padre Pio and Me   www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com But he at least had those golden ten years.

My brother was made redundant and now at 60 he's retired. He can look forward to 20+years of relaxation and learning. Me I've got 14 years more to do, if there's any jobs left. If I could win that lottery, then I'd retire today and write more books. Or if I could get something produced/published then I'd be able to retire. The chances of that happening, probably zero, but strange things have happened, read Literary Criticism on my site. Perhaps the government should start a National Laughter Campaign to cheer us all up, Ken Dodd should be ringmaster. The thought of years of slavery is saddening, perhaps we could start a National Singing Campaign, a kind of whistle while you work, Arthur Askey  reincarnated to pass all those extra working years away. We could sing the Song of The Hewbrew Slaves, for that's what'll happen, retire at 95 IF we're still alive, in the year of 2010 If we're still alive