Role Play(c) by Michael Casey

Role Play ©

By Michael Casey

I was just talking to a FB friend and as ever I had an idea after I was talking to him. So I’m going to share it with you. Now how many of you have done Role Play while on training courses?

It can be very daunting, embarrassing even, like being asked to strip in the class room, or in the middle of the sports field. I hurry to say that’s NOT what I want any of you to do.

I’ve done a bit of role play on training courses, and remember as a writer I’ve written a play or two. But there through  my words others are doing the stripping in public. They are the actors, I’m the writer/director.

I’ve been on training courses to help company moral by binding the staff together. To teach customer service, to teach my students a few lessons in life, even to learn how to be a bookie.

So when I became an Esol teacher I had a variety of experience, I’d done all kinds of everything. I boasted I’d written a book, now I have 6 to my name. So how do you use words?

Well I’m a firm believer in making lessons fun, though I do have to say you have to balance it so the students don’t think that learning is a joke, or that you are just a clown. You have to get the balance right. It’s like pushing a swing, gentle pushes at first then gradually you get the big swing. You do have to make sure you don’t push so hard that your wife/girlfriend/children go flying into space or get wrapped around the swing structure.

You need a lesson play, well you should have one, if you are very clever a flow chart will do. Now say for 15 mins you tell the students they are going to pretend to be Harry, William and Kate, with the class pretending to be baby George gurgling in the background. So the students put on their best posh accents and talk about babies, and car seats and all kind of everything.

During this you the teacher write any vocabulary on the white board. So the students have fun learning to speak clear English. Then the class can discuss the role play, and any associated vocabulary. Now I’ve chosen the Royals as they are very topical at the moment.

Wayne Rooney would make a great role play, him and the Special One, the Chelsea manager with the Man U manager too. So the role play would be the 3 of them having a coffee in StarBucks to decide Wayne’s future. This would be a fun activity, with vocabulary being added to the white board, you could also suggest vocabulary as the role play continues. I imagine, numbers very  high numbers would be involved. £35,000,000 would be one of the numbers.

Role play for the girls in class could revolve around picking a Wedding dress, and/or organising a full celebration. Everything down to the cake and disco and whatever. Word appropriate language would be learnt.

Remember they are learning English as a 2^nd language. Hopefully once they have learnt English they’ll visit and come and spend some money in England. Certainly Chinese students will go to Bister Village and buy 4 LV bags each, I am told they are too expensive in Shanghai.

As a teacher sometimes you need to teach something that can only be done via role play. I wrote a role play for our students about time keeping. I got the 3 other teachers to perform it. I pretended it would just be me teaching that session to the 120 students. Then one by one the other teachers arrived and started to disrupt the lesson. I have to admit I started to laugh like a nervous girl.

After a couple of minutes the students realised what was going on. We proceeded with the role play. Say twenty minutes later I stopped, then we divided into our groups then you talk about the role play. A simple thing but it works. As for the 10 people the lesson was really aimed at, they missed it, they had arrived late.

I also wrote a role play about interviews and interview technique, so the students would have an idea of how you do it in England. So I was the interviewer, and the 3 other teachers were the good, the bad and the ugly candidates. Now for some who have never had an interview in their life this is a great role play. It informs and they learn some vocabulary by watching it and during the discussion afterwards.

You have the perfect candidate, in a suit and on time. You have the average candidate, and then you have the guy who should have stayed in bed. The last guy looked like he has been in bed with his clothes on. The teacher had his shirt hanging out and was wearing a baseball cap. I could explain all this in detail, but I’ll leave that for another time.

Once the teachers had their interviews I interviewed a few of the students, while the 120 looked on. Now this is play learning if you like. My own play Shoplife as well as being a very funny play, could also be turned on its head to teach Customer Service on a Laugh and Learn basis. With English Language students you can teach through laughter. I am  available  if any training company wants to use my skills.

There is a balance that has to be maintained between all fun and no work, and all work and no fun. I think I got it right in my teaching days. Hopefully my playwright days are beckoning, for the role as writer is my best stage.

Wear and Tear by Michael Casey

Wear and Tear ©

By

Michael Casey

Its 2^nd August we’ve had a heat wave here in Birmingham and the rest of UK. So folks have being going around in  their Summer gear, sandals and shorts for men and women alike. Acres of flesh exposed, and lots of it you’d wish WAS covered up.

The thing about Summer is that as people try to look their best, the wear and tear on their bodies is exposed. The grey hairs announced to the world with shirts unbuttoned, 3 or even 4 buttons undone to feel the breeze on a hot Summer’s day. Silly sunglasses are everywhere, fake Ray-Bans multiplying in the sun.

Mum’s embarrassing their children as they wear sarongs in Aldi, it may be ok for Beckham, but why does mum have to show us up. Varicose veins on display, it’s too hot for tights, mum’s legs look like a map of rivers.

Grandpa is outside sitting on a bench, he hasn’t got the energy to walk around Aldi. He sits enjoying an ice cream, really loving it, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his toes sticking out of hippy style sandals . He is wearing belt and braces, half his shirt in and half his shirt out. He belches and farts as he finishes his ice cream. He shuffles up on the bench and tells you to sit beside him. You love him so you do, but making sure you hold your breath. Then he takes out his false teeth to suck them clean, before taking out a used hanky to wipe the sweat on his bald patch.

Children pretending to be girls pretending to be women strut past. Badly applied make-up smudged as they smoke a cigarette as they talk loudly about what they did with their boyfriend last night.

Traffic wardens sweat as they prowl about looking for victims, everybody is united in their hatred of traffic wardens. Summer, Winter or Fall as the Americans say, nobody loves a traffic warden.

People glow in the sun, too much sun worshipping, and not enough sun cream. Kids moan, why can’t they have some more sweets, “do you think, I’m made of money” snaps and slaps mums as they push a buggy loaded with shopping. Children sulk and curse under their breath, “wait till I get you home” threaten mums.

So a normal Summer’s day here in Birmingham and probably anyplace anywhere. So much wear and tear of mind and spirit. A house can be repainted, a new gutter here, a garden weeded there. It’s relatively easy, if you have a few quid to buy paint and a few odds and ends. Then your kids draw everywhere with chalk on the patio or should I say yard, and then kids chalk the walls too.

What about wear and tear on the soul? How can you erase that? Well you can start by being quiet, barricade the house so the kids cannot get in your room. Put your Barry Manilow on, other music is available too. Then lie on your bed and dream, dream what it would be like NOT to have kids or grandpa sitting in the street sucking his false teeth. Dream that you don’t have varicose veins, dream that your husband is 4 stones lighter.

Yes dreaming does take the edge off wear and tear of the spirit. I would say pray too, but in England I bet most people only pray when the lottery is being drawn. But if you play Barry Manilow loud enough you can  imagine you are on the Copa Cabana.

Hope(c) by Michael Casey

Hope(c)
 By
 Michael Casey

I've just watched Star Trek again, the film version by JJ Abrams. I really enjoyed it, especially the fact that Spock gets the girl. It was an exciting film, and most of all it was about Hope.

Yes HOPE, without hope we are nothing. Without Hope we are no better than animals or insects even. Small and Nothing. Hope is love, it is future, hope is our smile. A man, a great man once said Pray, Hope and Don't worry. His name was Padre Pio, I believe it was him who saved my dad's life back in 1996 you can read Padre Pio and Me on my  timeline.

I hope I pass that exam, I hope that girl notices me, I'm too shy to talk to her. I hope he notices me. Our whole life direction can start or stop, all because of hope.  Or lack of hope, and perhaps courage. It takes courage to take that 1st step, putting yor feeling out there. To be accepted or rejected in an instance.

If accepted you go forward slowly. If rejected you go away and cry maybe. But that's where Hope comes in, without Hope you just want to stay in bed and give up. You have to shake yourself and start again, and again, and again and again. No matter how many times it takes for you to have your confidence back.

Hope should always be in your heart, even if you feel destroyed you have to gather your spirits up and try again. Or if you are very lucky you stand by the fridge after you have got home and look at your dead mother's photo. Then you make a prayer. Always  remember to pray, even when you cannot pray because all Hope seems to have been swept away. You just pray, hope and don't worry. Even if your only prayer is "teach me to pray."

There is always hope, I was talking to somebody recently, and I hope they read this and take it to heart. You may be flat on your back in the gutter, and I've been there too, but you can look up at the stars, misusing Oscar Wilde's quote. All of us can get up off our back and start again. I'm smiling now, why? Because I have a bad back which is a life changing thing for me. My path has to be different from now on.

My path I hope is writing, writing for Radio and Film too, if I'm lucky and if I pray hard enough. Even if it not, I'll still write at www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com  and even if nobody ever reads my words I'll still write. Because I have Hope. I've had Hope these past 26years. I have a family now, all because of Hope.

So never give up or give in, sometimes you have to give yourself a kick up the backside, just as sportsmen do. Wind yourself up like clockwork and get back on that horse. Get back to that sewing machine, get back to the classroom, or back to driving that taxi. Whatever it is do it, just do it.

Go look at my photos, see how silly I look. If I can talk to you the way I'm talking to you   right now then how much better are your true friends. I'm not here to inspire you, go inspire yourself. Have a rest tonight, and in the morning start over, each day is fresh, straight out the fridge if you like.

So make yourself a fresh new creation, every single day.

Michael

Fences (c) by Michael Casey

Fences ©

By Michael Casey

I was on my way to Mass this morning and I was thinking about what I could write next. I’ve covered a lot of ground already with 500 shorts or blogs. They are on Amazon Kindle, but did you know you can also download to a PC if you don’t have a Kindle.

As I turned the corner I looked at the fence and that was it, I had the idea for the next piece of writing, and so here I am talking to you about Fences. Yes that’s how I get my ideas, I just see or hear something then away I go. An hour or so later you can see what I’ve produce on my www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com site. Then I share it with Facebook. When I have 100 or so pieces of writing I copy them off as an ebook, in total I have six books now on Amazon Kindle.

But what about Fences? Well my first memory is the hole in the fence, this allowed a bulldog to get into our back garden from the back streets behind our road. So we all ran and hid in the garden shed, only my brothers would not let me in , so I had to hide in the outside toilet. Nobody had indoor toilets in them days, 50 years ago. I could hear the bulldog barking. When he was gone I went crying back home to our house and the safety of my mum’s arms. She soothed me with fairy cakes, these were the cup cake variety which you make from a packet of ready mix.

Move on a few years and dad could afford to have a new fence built, one with concrete posts and slatted pieces of wood. Now the bulldogs could not come and get us. So piece reigned.

Well almost piece, our neighbour at the bottom of the garden had 3 sons and they loved  football. So my mum’s eternal worry was that they would break the fence. However sometimes they would kick the ball over the fence, so silence reigned. Sometimes me and my brother went to the other garden and had our own game of football with the borrowed ball. Or until Mr Q asked for the ball back.

Innocent pleasures, as was climbing over the fence to Mrs Dixon’s to get the ball when we kicked it over the side fence. She was posh and did not like us smelly boys climbing over the fence. Her son became a Policeman and actually made Sergeant, so he was Sergeant Dixon, as in Dixon of Dock Green the famous UK tv series. I imagine he was teased by his work mates, though I think he may have made inspector later on. He’d be retired now I imagine.

My other memory is the great storm in the 1970s, it really was immense. All our fences came crashing down, apart from the one at the back which was newish, have survived constant football, it stayed standing. The others were a mess, a total mess.

My parents would not let that stand in the way. So together my mum and dad built the 3 fences, we had 2 gardens you see, but that was an accident I’ll talk about another time. My mum went around all the building sites where builders were, and offered a few quid for timber which was going to be burnt. That’s the way builders worked in the old days, 30 years ago. No health and safety and pollution laws. If an Irish lady came with fivers in her hand of course  they’d give her the planks, and deliver too. They got beer money and we got timber, a perfect exchange.

The timber was thrown in a heap in the middle of what was the two gardens, a shipwreck of enormous proportions. A kind of Turner painting in the middle of our back gardens. A war painting that could have been hung in the Tate, made from planks galore, which had in turn had turned into a very good piss up for the builders.

Now how do you build a fence? One plank at a time. Dad got some concrete posts delivered and some supports. Then he dug holes and planted the posts in concrete about 18 inches deep. Once set the supports, the frames were attached to the posts. Then it was a question of nailing the planks to the supports.

I think he measured one plank, and cut it to 5feet, then that was a template for the others. It must have took a couple of weeks to build the fence, dad still had to go to Hell every day. Hell being a steelworks in Smethwick, where 400degrees plus was the norm.

So mum and dad built the fences, one plank at the time. Mum having to go in and start the dinner while dad hammered away. Now theses planks were from old floorboards from demolished houses, so they were ¾ inch thick or 2cms each if you know metric. This means they were as strong as girders.

On one side it was decided to make the fence 6 feet tall, it was only lower in the middle between our two gardens. So away dad hammered. I imagine I was sent around the corner with a jug to get a few pints from the off licence, a reward for all his efforts. I still remember the large lady who used to live there, occasionally we went there for sweets too.

So after a few weeks the fences were built. It was then I was allowed to chip in. I had to creosote the fences. Creosote is a brown thick and foul smelling liquid, it preserves wood. No Tom Sawyer could I be, I had to do it all myself. I stunk of creosote for weeks, or rather my clothes did, no matter how often you wash them. I had a green jumper I remember that, and it stunk.

Now I could talk of fences and walls between us, and so forth, and I did have that idea at the back of my mind as I was talking to you. But having come to the end of this piece, if you think about it, what have I really been talking about? I’ve been talking about love, the family of love I come from. In fact I suppose the first 500 shorts or blogs have been about that too. Now if only I could get them on the Radio, now that could mend fences.

Image Imagination and Ignorance (c) by Michael Casey

Image, Imagination, Ignorance(c) Nov 6, ’09 6:37 AM
By

Michael Casey

I did a quick google of “michaelgcasey” to see who was looking me up. Then I clicked on Image to see the snaps of myself. This morning loads of snaps appeared. This proves several things, my vanity, and who in the whole wide world is clicking on “michaelgcasey” to check me out. There are family snaps plus ones of me in a suit, or me in an Australian rugby shirt holding up the self published version of my book. As you all know I still want a REAL publisher and me holding up the book in a real book store. That’s the image I’d really like to see. As you all also know anybody who has clicked on my stuff or posted stuff in a comment then their connection appears in a Google search. So their image is tied to my image, even if really they have no connection to me at all. Its like a stranger standing in at a wedding photo just for the fun of it. Wedding crashers is the name of the game. This actually happened at one wedding I attended.
My main theme though is Image. At a Wedding we all tend to wear our best suits and polish those black shoes that have been gathering dust at the back of the closet. We make an effort so to please our mum, our friends, our ex lover, boyfriend, girlfriend and so on. We spend 20K or 30K in USD, all so that we look good on the Wedding photos, we have a day to remember. Personally I say its the Marriage that Matters, not the Wedding Day. You can read from the Bible and as you read you wonder, how long will this Marriage last. Everybody looks so good, and they have chosen the best caterers, the cake was made by Aunt Ann and she does it for a living, we saved so much you know. All this is Image. You could have bought a brand new car instead, but the Day in King, So even though we cann’t afford it, we will have our day so that someday in the future somebody somewhere can google and find us all dressed to the nines on our wedding day. Me I just bought a new car, I won’t even bore you with why. I’ll let you all use your imagination. How many different guesses will you all have?
In Shanghai and the East they do a photo shoot with various costumes including the tradional white wedding dress, then they hand out credit card sized photos of the loving couple. The book is as big as a shopping catologue with photos printed on very very thick paper.I ts a nice souvenir, a nice Image.
What of our own individial image. Don’t take a photo my hair’s a mess, say wives and girlfriends and perhaps some TV reporters, male and female. Let me comb my hair first. Tuck in your shirt, wipe the pizza from your face. Change your clothes,and the list goes on. Politicians dress up or dress down, Royalty over here do the same. Why? For the sake of image. Before I change water into wine, I’ll just change my tunic… Sorry I cannot kiss him, he hasn’t changed, he needs a shave, he smells. What if it was your dad lying there, dying there? I’ve been down that road. A kiss, a touch is PRICELESS, never let ignorance and image get in the way of love.

*******

don’t forget my books are on Amazon Kindle just look for my face 6 times.

Hot Weather(c) by Michael Casey

Hot Weather ©

By

Michael Casey

They say that some like it hot, me I like it just right, just as the 3 bears in Goldilocks and the 3 Bears did. My wife does call me a polar bear, I am a large sized person after all, she does call me that too. Though me and the girls do call her the witch, with the hackled voice too, on occasions.

But what about the weather?  We are having a heat wave here in Birmingham and the rest of the country.  Though we did just have thunderstorms and a new Royal baby in the middle of it.

Where I live if there is half a smile from the sun then the legs are out. I mean literally, all the men sport shorts, short fat and hairy legs suddenly appear. And don’t you wish they’d hide those hideous legs. Yuck.

Me I have great legs, but as a public service I hide them, I keep them covered. If I were to reveal   them  old ladies would faint and young ladies would swoon. Sergeant Mulholland from Old Forge and Singing Anvil police station did have a quiet word. He said he’d buy me 17 pints of Stella and a packet of cheese and onion crisps, to soak up the Stella, IF I promised to keep my long trousers on, and never reveal my stout hair legs.

So that’s why when the whole of my area is in shorts I’m still in long trousers, standing at bar of The Trader, trying ever so hard to finish my Walkers cheese and onion crisps.

The girls in my area they too are in shorts, it’s like  being at the beach, but there is no sand. Why should a bit of sunny effect people so much? Well we did all have the worse winter in 50years, I can even remember the snowball fights with my brother. One end of the garden had a carved up snowman, the other end near the hedge had a wall the width of the garden. Yes that was 50years ago.

But what of the sun, well we don’t normally get heat waves over here in England. So everything stops. It’s as if a war time siren sounds and its screamed from the roof tops “SHORTS ON”. Our police don’t wear shorts, it’s their legs you see, policemen’s legs have to be covered, it’s the law in England. If you don’t believe me go write to the Library of Congress and ask to speak to Randy Cheserwich he’s the police attire specialist, world affairs.

People smile more when the sun shines, even burglars, because we leave our doors and windows open. So remember to be sensible. Though in the street next to mine we did have an attempted burglary due to the sunshine and open doors. It could have ended in tragedy.

The burglar sneaked into the home, and was half way up the stairs when he saw a sight to behold. The ugliest and hairiest legged man in the world, no not me.  But this man was too hot so he was wander around his own home, au natural. The burglar screamed and ran off.

That was a mistake, as Gregory the home owner happened to be a sprinter. The burglar was already in shock from the what he had seen, but being chased up the high street, was another shock. When you have the fear of god in you, you can tun fast really fast. But not fast enough, people came out of the butcher, the baker and the undertaker and watched the race. Smiling Paul from the bookies even placed a bet on the result.

Screams and shouts as Gregory caught the man, no he wasn’t Gregory’s girl, he was Gregory’s thief. Gregory also happens to be a Black Belt, though he wasn’t wearing any trousers. So Gregory bounced the thief off a wall, before making a citizen’s arrest.

 It was then that Gregory met his future wife, Amanda from the material shop. She had seen everything, and she thought, that’ll do for me, I can always shave him. So striding out of the material shop she wrapped Gregory in green material. He was all hers now, the urge was upon her, and as Gregory looked in her eyes the urge was upon him.

A normal kind of Summer’s day in Old Forge and Singing Anvil, so ask for The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker at Amazon Kindle.

Bye now I think I’ll put my shorts on. Michael

The Bus Stop

The Bus Stop ©

By

Michael Casey

A bus stop is an ordinary even boring kind of thing, but if you look closely you’ll see the whole world in front of you. My brother gave up using buses when he was 40 something, he was fed up of being wet in the rain, waiting for a bus to come.

I still use buses so I see the whole world and their mother. At the bus stop you still see young mothers, some too young to be mothers, smoking all over the child in the pram. I’ve noticed too that Polish people seem to smoke more, mind you my brother still smokes. One of our lodgers smoked and drank and gambled and he died at 83, the day after his birthday.

At the bus stop you have the clock watcher, somebody who is forever glancing at his watch, eager to get to work, as if he is the CEO. Nowadays some people don’t have watches, they have mobiles, so why have a watch.

The music fan is also to be found at the bus stop, his music blasting from his mp4 player. I’m standing 5 feet away and I can hear the music loud and clear. So is the music fan melting his brain, or is he just DEAF.

The kindle reader is a new thing, but there at the bus stop you can see the reader reading the reader, I’m watching the reader reading his reader. So it goes on, I’m the David Attenborough of the bus stop, watching and observing everything.

There is the new couple, still clinging and groping one another at the bus stop, and it only 8am. She clings to him as he with his gap tooth smile tries to bite her neck again, like some daytime Dracula. To be honest you feel sick, you want to throw a bucket of water over them, they are maybe 19 to 21, they have discovered sex. So they are still sampling one another at the bus stop.

A regular, a little old lady and her Scottie dog walks past, the dog stops to pee at the corner of the shelter, splashing the lovers, there was no bucket of water to hand but the Scottie dog should be applauded.

The bus slows and stops, the lovers exchange a final French kiss, more like a tonsillectomy, but he has to go back to bed while she has to go to work. Luv You they say 15 times over as the queue fills the bus.

An ordinary day at an ordinary bus stop, somewhere in Birmingham. I wonder is it the same where you are?