How do you die

How do you die?

By

Michael Casey

I read an article tonight in the DT, it really got me thinking. I was interrrupted by by my 7 year old daughter coming down to say goodnight again and to pull faces in the mirror behind me. So I gave her a drink of milk and she gave me a kiss goodnight and then she went to bed again, happy with her thirst gone. I was happy too, for every goodnight kiss is a priceless thing. I stop to mention this because the article was about Ovarian Cancer and it talked about the lack of tact doctors have when telling somebody they are to die, the doctors cannot do anything for the patient.

Now back in 1996 my mum died peacefully in her sleep, my brother had ran around and climbed into the bed and held her in his arms and  tried the kiss of life. But hertime was up, she had died in the bed he was born in. 8 bare weeks later my brother, the same brother hear a noise, our dad had fallen out of bed, again my brother  tried CPR, this time he laid our dad down on the bedroom floor. He saved our dad.

Now dad was given one week to live and we even picked hymns for his funeral, however I believe Padre Pio saved him. In total our dad lived 5 and half years more. And I met a Shanghai girl  and now have 2 children.

Now there a a couple of things we all need to think about,  does faith change outcome? In America that had teams praying for sick folks and there seemed to be reason to believe that those who were prayed for got better faster. Positive people   seem to get better faster, or live longer if they are living a death sentence. If you are negative and a depressive, say your name is Victor Meldrew then you will take longer to get better and if you are facing a death sentence you will reach your grave sooner.

We all rmember the lady who did all the sports and was determined  to make a difference before she died. Motivation can make all the difference to a situation. If you are scared stiff of dying then you will suffer horrors. My own dad was in hospital at Dudley Rd  for 12 weeks, when he "recovered" he  said he really suffered. When you're on diamorphine and all manner of stuff I imagine you get horror movie level of dreams until the veil is parted and you return to the light. Being trapped in your mind must be like being in Hell itself.

Something in your mind leads you out of your sickness. I believe the prayers of family and priests DO help too. When the final curtain becons attitude does make a difference. I know somebody who says "I hate death, or I'm affraid of death." Me I don't have that fear, when my mother died I did not even cry because my mum always said "Don't cry" so I fgollowed her instructions. I did whelp like a puppy dog 5.5years later when my dad finally died. But to my point, I am lucky I inherited  my mum's Faith when she died, not because I'm in any way pious, rather because it was the thing that I needed most. So don't be affraid of death, just  don't even think about if. Death is not worth listening too, sure we will all die, but a life lived well is what we should be concentrating on. Even if we are racked with pain and on diamorphine, we can all enjoy the flowers. Yes you will all condemn me, but I reply if we can add a little sunshine to our own lives and to those who are on the final stretch then that will be a good thing.

My other daughter just came down for a goodnight kiss and to remind/nag me to tuck her in and give her another goodnight kiss. These simple things are tokens of love and I pray everybody who reads this will agree with me, a family united in love is the best way to live life until this life ends.

My two girls

Reaching Zen

Reaching Zen ©

By 

Michael Casey

How do you get somewhere? You open your door and walk down the street, you may be going shopping for sugar, or you may be popping into church for a chat with God.

You could be feeling lucky and go to Stanley Racing to have a 50p bet, at least smoking is banned now.

To catch the  train to Hogworts in Harry Potter you go to platform 9 ¾ and then away you go on a journey. The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker is set in Old Forge and Singing Anvil which is a magical place somewhere in the Black Country.  So how do you get there? Well its easy, you just go to the pub. The Bear Tavern just 5 mins away from where I’m talking to you. 

Before you go inside the Bear just pop into the pharmacy and buy a big bottle of perfume, as an apology to your girl. Inside The Bear you ask for 17pints and packet of cheese and onion crisps. The crisps will soak up the 17pints. If you don’t like alcohol or 17 pints is too much then  just have 17 pints of cola. There is no time limit. Once the 17pints have been drunk and you’ve finished picking your teeth you are free to leave.

Outside your head will spin at first, but in seconds, you’ll wonder where you are as the familiar Bearwood Rd will have disappeared and  as for the bear’s head and the stone carved bears’ heads on top of the Bear Tavern  all will have vanished. 

Then your head stops spinning and you are on a different street of shops, you are on, well I cannot tell you the name  of the street you have to read the book. You are though standing outside The Trader and now all 17pints and the cheese and onion crisps are forgot so you go inside for a drink, just one. The Trader is a real ale bastion  in fact Camra just put “I cried” in  its listing, it was that good. Wayne the landlord has a secret in the cellar, it’s a stash of 40 or even 60 year old malt whisky. He stumbled over the hidden stash when he was renovating his pub,

Now if you like your cafes  then there is one just down the road from the Trader, Mark and Gillian got fed up of working in 5 stars, they wanted to see their diners, so they came back home to Old Forge and Singing Anvil where they set up shop, or rather opened a café. Yes you can park your wagon and get a great bacon butty, Big Sid provides the meat and Patrick provides the bread. However with all their skill you are eating Michelin standard food in a small back street of Old Forge and Singing Anvil. 

This is just a  peek of Old Forge and Singing Anvil, home to The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker. All you need is imagination and 17 pints of lager  and one packet

 of cheese and onion crisps.

 

Michael Casey 007

Michael Casey 007

By Michael Casey

I had a security pass with 007 on it, so it got me thinking. What if I was in a Bond film. There will be a new film and Daniel Craig will be the man again.

Could I be a baddie? No I couldn’t possible do that, I mean I don’t look like a baddie do I? My girls wouldn ‘t like it either,  daddy couldn’t possible be a baddie, and as for the wife, I was her Panzi after all. Panzi meaning Fat Fat Boy in Chinese.

So what could I be in a James Bond film? I could carry his bags, I did work in a 4star business hotel for 3 years. So I have the practice. I could carry James Bond’s bags up to his room and knock a few things over, or spill things on James Bond and try to wipe him down with a towel, so James Bond pushes me over the balcony into the pool.

Then the next day Bond lounging by the pool, and me/the porter trips over him so Bond throws me in the pool again. Later in the day I knock his Aston Martin with my trolley, so I get thrown in the pool again.

Finally I/the porter annoys him again, so this time he shoots me. And Bond says “I never believed in tipping.”

Now if Lee Evans is not available for the above then I’d do it. Wouldn’t we all love to be in a Bond film, just think how much they could charge for the privilege.    

As These Tears Fall

As These Tears Fall  ©

 by Michael Casey

As these tears fall, we remember we have been here before.

As these tears fall, the love we feel hurts so much more.

As these tears fall, we are stunned and don't know what to say.

As these tears fall, we must remember them all.

As these tears fall, we think of the smiles.

As these tears fall, we remember the laughter.

As these tears fall, we remember the kisses.

As these tears fall, we touch their things that will never be used again.

As these tears fall, we finish ironing the shirt or the trousers that will never be worn again.

As these tears fall, we feel a hole in our heart that aches so much.

As these tears fall, we remember their touch, comforting and more.

As these tears fall, we are heartbroken for our lost futures.

As these tears fall, we give thanks for what we did have.

As these tears fall, love carries on, we will meet again.

Facebook and Me

Facebook and Me

Well I have to declare an interest, I think Facebook is overrated. I’m on Facebook but I don’t really use it. I’m on Twitter too and I don’t really know how that works  either.

Yes its great to stay in touch but to say somebody thinks Facebook is worth  billions is STUPID. One figure I read in the DT was that it would mean a single ad was worth $100, multiplying up the number of users and how much revenue could be harvested if they all bought in to the advertising. When I watch tv I always put the kettle on during the ads, or switch channels to watch something else even if its the weather for the 20th time in a day, its preferable to adverts.

Talking of adverts www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com is my site where my comic novel  The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker can be read as well as a collection of essays and plays, not to mention a collection of blogs all of which will make you laugh. Now if what I’ve just said was on Facebook would people read my advert and then go to my site, and then find me a publisher and then PAY for my 3 books. NO is the answer so far.

So what of Facebook? Its full of stuff, you can even comment on George Bush’s book. As I and thousands of people have done. In the end Facebook is fun, but will you watch all their ads and buy all the stuff thats there. I know I won’t  its irritating in the extreme all these ads. If you are googling stuff and then the ads show stuff similar then that’s not so bad, BUT if you’re doing social networking then you are social networking, I don’t want a loan or a holiday or any other rubbish, just leave me alone.

Now the investment bankers are investing, but didn’t they invest in C*&^% loans in Deep South Property and  we all know what happened there. Another South Sea Bubble beckons, and when it happens don’t you wish you followed my advice and read a book instead

Gulliver's Travels and Me

Gulliver’s Travels and Me ©

By

Michael Casey

I was thinking about what to write this New Year’s Eve. The past, the present, the future all spring to mind. Jack Black is in a movie Gulliver’s Travels this holiday season. So I thought I could use that as my starting point. Then “WOOSH” I remembered I once won a raffle, I won a copy of Gulliver’s Travels. I never won a raffle in my life but I did win that one. 42years ago and more, I was still wearing short socks with elastics to hold them up and short trousers too. There were only 6 or was it 8 of us in with a chance for the raffle.

The book didn’t change my life, it was a nice read at the time. The actual book was meant as a lecture, but we all forget/don’t know that now. If memory serves a war was brewing because one side opened their egg by the big end and the other opened their egg by the small end. Me I prefer scrambled eggs in the microwave, 2 minutes and you’re done, with lots of toast too, go to work on an egg used to be a very old advertising slogan.

Gulliver shows us that we are all afraid of things, and small things can make us all so very afraid. The shadow on the wall, or just being afraid of the dark, all these things spook us. Its so very hard getting children to sleep with the light off. So we compromise and have a night light for them, and maybe for us too. When we travel in some places the bedroom is as dark as a darkroom, but without any coloured safety light. Its total pitch black, so we compromise and have the bathroom light on, with the door  half closed, otherwise if we awake in the night we might think we’re dead, its just so very very dark. I know from my own holiday experiences, but I did also work in an hotel for 3years and when you do room checks the number of times it was pitch black because the curtains were left closed……

To some you are a giant, just like Gulliver, your kids think you are great and you make them laugh, they forgive you for telling them off on occasions. They stand on your toes and together you dance around the living room. How long will they see you this way, I hope forever, I always tell my kids to remember things, I’m encouraging them to build up a store of memories and laughter. Then in the future when I’m not there anymore they have this treasure chest of memories. I’m no Jack Sparrow but I hope I have more treasure than him, treasure that’ll last down the generations. Laughter is the greatest treasure I can give to my kids, I’m no giant, though I’m fat, Panzi FAT FAT BOY is my Chinese name after all, but a treasure chest full of laughter is what I try and add to every day.

The reverse of the coin is being small. Gulliver was small in the other half of the tale, we all sometimes forget the small people, those who beaver away in the background.

The little old ladies who teach choir, the lollypop ladies who save our kids from the selfish fast drivers who are on the phone as they drive. Today we have the New Years Honours and I for one hope the little people get their due. Little things in our lives can change and guide us to our futures. Advice we listened to once which changed our lives, such as “try computers” and then you end up with a nice job for 21years.

“Write a book”, so I wrote a book. Now I’ve written 3,  and I still need a publisher for my books not to mention a producer for my plays. “Why don’t you get engaged” was one such piece of advice, and now I am married with 2 girls. Those 3 small separate pieces of advice have changed my life. All of you reading this must have had somebody give advice or make ½ a suggestion, even if you were all drunk in a pub and somebody said “why not go on the Xfactor”, or “Go to London and seek your fortune”, it worked for Dick Whittington after all. So think big, thing small, have some travels Gulliver did, so why not you?

Christmas 2010, footprints in the snow (C)

Christmas Day 2010, footprints in the snow ©

By 

Michael Casey

I got a bit of the flu again this Christmas, so I wasn’t playing in  the snow but my girls were. They came in asking me to come out quick because they’d found a footprint in the snow. I wondered what they were on about. My big daughter had asked what was the hairy animal that left foot prints. She was talking about Bigfoot or a Yeti. 

Outside she showed me what she had seen, it was a footprint wider that a mans and longer too, with 4 toe prints, or so it looked. She said there was a 2nd footprint but it had disappeared. Perhaps it was Santa’s slay mark or was it one of his reindeer’s footprint or was it the sleigh itself leaving marks behind. I retreated indoors to the warm, then I suggested that my big daughter that she took a photo.

She took a photo, literally one. I then got an old file divider and folded it in half so that I could take a few photos with the file divider being a scale reference. Its hard photographing footprints or Yeti prints in the snow, its all too white. The impression in the snow was a large imprint only half an inch deep then a smaller imprint a bit deeper followed by the 4 toe prints. I include a photo below.

Now was it the Yeti in our back garden or was it Santa and the reindeer, just leaving one footprint as they hovered in our garden. Perhaps it was the Gruffalo itself, it was all a mystery. We talked about it while we had our duck and pancakes Christmas dinner, egg fried rice with king prawns will be our supper soon as we watch Dr Who, the new one the silly one as my girls call him. I punctuated the conversation with sneezes and wiping my nose.  Terry’s Chocolate Orange was our desert. Not very traditional but a good celebration if you have a Shanghai wife and two bilingual daughters.

We’re having a break from the tv after the Gruffalo, which gives me time to write this down and tell you all about the Yeti in Birmingham. Though having thought about it, it could just be  an impression in the snow made by a cat sitting down and stretching and scratching. Though we do have foxes near where we live and we have had a fox in our garden before. But as its Christmas Day I chose to believe it was Santa’s Sleigh just touching down momentarily, and if it wasn’t that it must have been a Birmingham Yeti. A Birmingham Yeti, now that would be something, I could organise coach trips and freeze the footprint and keep it in our freezer just next to the pizzas and the sea bass, I could charge a tenner a time to see the frozen evidence. And what if it was a Gruffalo? My small daughter did have an apple fall on her head while she was making a snow angel, so did the Gruffalo knock it off while he was trying to hide amongst the trees at the bottom of our garden? Was it her Isaac Newton moment?  Was it all her imagination, or was it mine?

Judge for yourself, here’s the photo.