Naked Attire

Naked Attire ©

By

Michael Casey

We are born naked, then we get our bum slapped, we are weighed and washed and then parcelled and given to our mum. Wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger is the most famous birth.

Pink for a girl and blue for a boy, this is the tradition. Though some liberals like to do the opposite, just to prove they are liberal, I even heard one man called his son Sue, or was that Johnny Cash?

In China they have the trap door for children, same as the old long-johns in Westerns. We all dress our kids up to look like this or too look like that. Little caps on their heads too, as posh as Posh Spice’s kids. But she IS a fashion designer, so why should we “punish” our kids by copying those we read about in OK magazine, our little mites must copy the latest reality tv star.

I believe in Victorian times boys were dressed up as girls till a certain age, you can google that for yourselves. Though I do understand the concept of hand me downs, I do have 3 elder brothers. So my first pair of long trousers was in the summer of 1970, an almost worn out pair of puke coloured cords.

My mother sat on an old barn chair in the garden and took them up for my short legs. Then ever so proud I ran up and down the garden with my hands in the pockets, I was so proud and happy.  Prior to that it was shorts and long socks with elastic to hold them up. 

At school is when we all have to dress up the first time. School uniform, though I’m old enough to remember we didn’t really have a uniform in primary school. I cannot remember any particular coloured jumper and so on, though it’s a long time ago so I could be wrong.

At grammar school you have the school tie, and a blazer too, this was a big deal. I know because my one wore out at the cuffs and my mum demanded a replacement. Only they refused to give a bigger size, out of spite. I can just remember a man asking me about the Scouts, I made a very derogatory reply. He asked did I know what this badge meant on his lapel. I did not know, I think later my brother said he was a scout master.

So dress code enters your life, even in summer there was a dress code, as it was hot we could remove the school tie. However shirt collars  had to be splayed open a la Saturday Night Fever, though the film had yet to be produced.

When you leave school you can dress to please yourself. I had always loved ties and worn one in primary school, I had an Aston Villa one, as one of the lodgers gave it to me. Now a “grown-up” I dressed in jeans and a shirt and tie. I could have been a member of Status Que. I do remember Caroline  and so on.

So on to work, and I ended up in a computer room, market research into alcohol sales. There I wore my shirt and tie plus jeans. That was my uniform and brown shoes. I wore brown shoes as they were cheaper than black ones. As we did a lot of paper handling we weren’t forced to wear trousers, our excuse was they would split as we were always moving about and bending to load and unload paper,A3 sized standard continuous listing paper.

When I started to work at a hotel I had to wear a uniform, but thankfully I didn’t in the end. This was due to the fact of having a big aspidistra, if you know what I mean. So I ended up wearing my own trousers, and an old suit jacket I had. Because I was nearly 20 years older than the front desk staff and my white hair everybody assumed I was the manager, until I offered to carry their bags.

Later they found a jacket to fit my chest size, and I had an almost uniform jacket, but my own pants. The thing about working in a hotel for 3 years is that thanks to all the exercise, up to 20 miles a week of walking alone. My chest size went up 2 inches, and as I talked a lot too my neck size went up an inch. So I am 18.5 inch neck size and 46 inch chest. Then there is the 4 star deluxe food, so my belly also went up 2 inches. But in black you can hardly tell.

Finally with regret I left, they messed my shifts, so I left, seeing my toddler children was important to me, more than any job. So I left. Just as I was leaving we were all fitted for a really nice blue suit, I was so pleased with it, we all were. Though I never got to wear it, as I had gone.

For my print room days at a law firm it was business professional, I couldn’t look like a tramp as very important business was being done at the law firm, image was so important. Lawyers wore very expensively nice suits, and the girls wore the female equivalent. I was allowed one concession I could take the tie off while inside the confines of the print room. It was 30degrees in there once all the industrial sized copiers were in use. And we stood all day too. If I left the print room I had to put a tie on. They were a really great company they really looked after their staff.

In my Esol teaching days I wore shirt and tie with trousers, business professional they call it, though I still wore my brown shoes. It’s not too much of an imposition. So that was my teacher look.

Now as you can see from my websites and LinkedIn I wear rugby shirts, very bright rugby shirts. Polos some of them, they are like my like my writing colourful and interesting. Though some may say my writing is like my dress sense, questionable.

So on it goes, attire, how we dress for this and who we dress for that. I did go to a friend’s wedding once, the evening bit, dressed in a black leather jacket. Dave said I looked like Marlon Brando, but I didn’t make him an offer he couldn’t refuse. I did write a poem for his wedding, I later published in Japan but that’s another story.

How we dress makes us feel happy, some may even be Nudists, free to the elements and the wind. I could of course never be a Nudist, I’d fail the physical, and I’d need hair dye all over my body, but not on my head as I’m happy with the colour there.

If you think of fashion the closer you are to being a Nudist, the more fashionable it is. Less is more, as they say, the less material used, the more expensive it is. So if you think of the Emperor’s New Clothes, that really was so so very expensive.

As for Miley Cyrus, she is such a great singer, and I mean that most sincerely as Hughie Green might say, and as she’s so pretty too, so she must know a thing or two about fashion. But she knows nothing about economics or her manager is stealing all her money, cos she can never afford enough clothes.

Happy Saint Patrick's Day

Shamrock in my garden.

Adventures in Reproofing

Adventures in Reproofing©

By Michael Casey

Well as I said on LinkedIN earlier in the day I’ll write about reproofing. I’ve got a couple of old coats, one is very warm but soaks water up like a sponge, though I do stay dry.

The zip broke and they wanted 30quid for a new zip, so I thought it was not worth fixing. Then I had an idea, velcro, so I’ve had it velcroed  for 8 quid. The other coat I got cheap thanks to Shaz, he worked in the shop so I got a great discount. However after 5 years the water resistance has gone.

So I was thinking about reproofing, so I looked on Amazon and read the reviews, then I picked the cheapest offer. You get a sachet of reproofing liquid for 5quid, enough for one coat, or garment if you like the posh word.

It did not come for a couple of days, and today the postman walked right past the house, so I thought I’d have to wait a day more. Then the postman doubled back and I got my treasure.

Now I wanted to do a proper job and not waste the fiver I’d paid on the reproofing liquid. I had to wait for a load of washing to finish first before I could requisition the washing machine.

So the load finished and I hung out the washing. Then I prepared the washing machine, I took out the tray dispenser, this we had not done in 10 years. We knew it was 10 years as Ma, was over from Shanghai for the birth or her 2^nd grandchild, when we last messed with the washing machine.

So following the instructions I cleaned all the washing powder off the tray, spilling water all over the kitchen floor as I did so. I took the dispensing tray into the bathroom and power washed it with the shower.

Too much force in the shower meant the water bounced back all over me and my jumper. But at least the dispensing tray was really clean.  My wife joined in and cleaned out washing powder from inside the washing machine, where the tray normally sat.

So then I wriggled the try back into position. Next you have to zip up or rather velcro up the coat. The other coat still had a working zip, so I zipped that up, and left both hoods hanging out. This is rather like a cake recipe, you have to do everything slowly and deliberately.

I had decided to use the delicate setting on the washing machine, I had never ever used that setting before. So I switched it on to test where the water came in, it had to come into the correct compartment on the dispensing tray, or all would be lost.

Having verified where the water would come in on that setting I poured the reproofer into the right compartment. Some men may not even know there are 3 compartments. So this was like setting up dominoes ready for a world record, everything had to be pin point accurate.

Then I started the machine on no.14 on the scale. I then went back to my computer, though I did look out the window and notice that my wife had rearranged the way I had hung out the washing. I never can please her with my use of clothes pegs.

A hour later still the machine was not finished, then 2 hours later the machine would not release my two coats from the water torture of reproofing. I was tempted to say Chinese water torture, but my Shanghai wife would throw a cushion at me if I said that. I just double checked with her, she has not yet heard of that expression.

So I thought I’d release my two coats from reproofing, just turn the knob and then the water will drain away and I can hang out my coats. Only as I put the bowl out to carry the coats into the garden, as I opened the door I got a flood all over the kitchen floor. “Paper,” I screamed to the wife so then we had to hunt for paper, only the recycling bin was emptied this very morning.

As I tried to catch the excess water, and lay paper at the same time my wife just laughed, I am her clever and stupid husband after all. Then I emptied my bowl of water before removing my 2 coats and carrying them into the garden in the plastic bowl. I left a sea of water on the kitchen floor.

As I hung my coats on the washing line my neighbour was carrying newspaper to her recycling bin. God was laughing at me too, his clever and stupid creation. If you touch the coats it’s like wax had been deposited on them, making them waterproof. That’s when they dry out, but for now they are like sponges.

I squeezed here and squeezed there, rather like milking a cow, though my cousin does have a dairy farm. And another cousin works for the dairy in Kerry.

Anyway my coats could enjoy the March sunshine. I told my neighbour if she heard me scream I was probably being electrocuted, so she must just hit me with a stick, the wooden linepost would do. You do of course have your entire life flash before you when that happens, a friend was electrocuted 30 years ago and he told us that fact.

Back in the kitchen I switched the washing machine on, to a different setting, to drain the last of the water out. Then I finished mopping the floor with towels, and put them in the washing machine, where else would they go. But I won’t be using any exotic settings on the washing machine any more.

Now it’s night time and my coats are both still wet, I’ve brought them in as fog is expected over night. In the morning I’ll hang them out again to dry, and then finally I’ll have reproofed coats.

Though the proof of it will be when it’s wet, and I’m not talking about the kitchen floor, nor the bathroom floor, or even me. I mean when it’s raining again. We have had the rainiest Winter in 250 years and I must be the only person who wants it to rain again, just to test my two reproofed coats.

Transferable Skills

Transferable Skills©

By

Michael Casey

Transferable Skills, it’s a fancy buzz word that HR people love. So what do they really mean? Or is it just hot air? It’s both. HR people do like to blind with science, to make them-selves more important. Yet they do have a point as well.

So if I’m writing my CV should I put down the fact that I’ve produced 7 books and have 3 or 4 web sites. I’ll tell you from bitter experience that folks don’t want a “writer” if you are applying for a regular job. One sarcastic, and it was not wit, HR lady actually sent me a “NO” email with a flowery font.   So you can imagine what I think of her and her ilk. I only had written one book then.

There are transferable skills, such as if you run a soccer club, or cricket club. This proves you are community minded, and have an organisational mind. I know somebody who mentioned those facts and did indeed get a job. They forgot later and they were caught out. So if you are going to lie then you need a good memory. They did not lose the job over it but, in some spheres you will be out on your ear.

Language skills are very useful, if you are going to be a tour guide or work at a public information post, such as in the Bull Ring here in Birmingham. If you switch back and forth in multiple languages this is a great skill. Me I can do a bit of French and Spanish, which I did use in my hotel days, I started in hotels 12 years ago.

Being manual dexterous is a great skill, if you’ve played a lot of ball games, you can flip and flop and smack down. If you work in a print room as I did for 3 years, not counting all the printing I did in computer rooms, then paper handling is a good skill.

 You have to load and unload paper, then sort and collate it. I’ve gone through tens of thousands of sheets of paper.  Binding, heat or wire binding is another skill. If you are quick with your hands then you are a great print room person. I know two girls who would amaze you.

Then there is paper folding. Take a piece of paper, a map for example that is as big as your front door, I’m looking at our door right now. Then imagine folding that down to A4 size, Origami at its purest.

Mothers are of course the busiest of people, and they have the best multitasking skills. My own mother had to keep an eye on not just us children, plus the cat and the dog, as well as all the lodgers, but feed the 5000 everyday, by which I mean her large family. Her best multitasking was watching Dallas, with one hand in her piny, after her long day, her hand jumped in the pocket. She was still saying the Rosary. 

Accents

Accents ©

By

Michael Casey

I'm from Birmingham, need I say more. In fact I don't really have any accent at all. Why? Well my parents were from County Kerry, the best county just to remind you, and my mother never lost her accent even after 50 years in Birmingham.

And dad was in a steel works for 40 years alongside Welshmen. "Hello Dear how are you?" was his refrain, on the family holidays to Abergele the Welsh sometimes thought HE was Welsh.

I never heard mum's accent, except on the phone and it took 30years before we got a phone. My wife is from the east, the Far East, Shanghai, so I had to speak clearly so she could understand me.

I don't hear her accent at all, on the phone she is totally Chinese sounding, and incredibly sexy sounding, to my ears anyway.

As for our  eldest daughter she sounds very very posh, like Veruka in Willy Wonka/Charlie and the Chocolate factory, totally English sounding.

 Our younger daughter, is not as posh, but on the phone, we cannot tell our daughters apart. So accent is a fun thing.

My sister in law's sister has a Welsh husband and they live in Scotland, and have a daughter. In their house your hear, English, Welsh and Scottish accents.

In my house you hear Chinese and Shanghai accents, when our bilingual daughters speak Chinese it’s with a very posh Chinese accent.

www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com  to hear my posh Birmingham accent, I tell 127 stories, need I say more?  

Law Speak

Law Speak ©

By

Michael Casey

We all have our own way of speaking, you know what I mean like, um, er, yeh, you know, what I mean, like, in it, like what I was saying like.

That’s why we have barristers or is it baristas in Court? To speak clearly on our behalf.  And those that use words as their tools have a special way to use these tools, these things called words. If you know what I mean like, Harry.

A lawyer says:- I was somewhat disturbed.

We say:- I was livid, I’ll kill that bastard.

A lawyer says:- There will be consequences.

This means:- You will have a visit from the bailiffs in the middle

                      of the night.

A lawyer says:- It would be mutually beneficially for our economic  

                        viabilities.

This means:- Lets move in together, get those Silks off now!

A lawyer says:- We should compare and contrast the aspects of

                         our mutual satisfaction

This means:- page 79 and 99 and 103 of the Kama Sutra

A lawyer says:- The prospect of advancement for our  mutual

                       skills through the generational aspect.

This means:- Let’s work our way through the Kama Sutra,

                     because I want your babies, NOW!

So on it goes, posh words, tender words. Words dripping with the letters of the alphabet. Letters which are Bold, letters which are in Italics, letters which are underlined with love. When a lawyer gives his heart, she gives her everything. Signed, sealed, codiciled, copies taken and bound, and certified and stamped. That’s what you get when a lawyer falls in love.

Love is too weak a word for a  lawyer, its mesmerising intoxication, it’s an hallucination of pulchritude, it’s a goddess visiting Birmingham from Heaven itself. And no this does not mean his new girlfriend is from Harborne either.

Her beauty stills his beating heart, he drops his briefs, his papers on the floor, you non-lawyers can be so so  so, non-lawyer like. A lawyer in love is such a great great thing, like an eclipse. The diamond of her beauty, her pulchritude overwhelms, intoxicates him, the air itself is torn from his chest.

She has power over him, just like  in the James Bond film. If you have to compare a lawyer in love, who else but James Bond bares any comparison, they do go to the same tailor after all.

After the scales of justice have been shaken to the core, blindfolds and love games galore, then there will be children, 2 or 3 or more. Tarquin, and Rapunsel  Smythe-Casey Q.C.s just like their dear papa Michael Casey.

So was it good for you, see you by the drinks machine, you can unruffled my hair as we stand there.

follow me, be perfect, be wonderful, be rich

Follow Me, Be Perfect, Be Wonderful, Be Rich ©

By

Michael Casey

I’ve got a stinking cold or even flu at the moment, I think my wife shared it with me. My daughters have covered themselves up like cowgirls with scarfs covering their faces, so they don’t share my flu/cold. Such is family love.

So they’ll be sighs and sneezes as I write this, or rather as I talk to you. I hope you’ll agree, I talk to people, I’m not just a piece on paper. So what’s annoying me at the moment? Follow me for a perfect life, for a perfect smile, that’ll change your life. That’s what I’m reading as I look through the Web.

So you follow Ms. Bright Smile and read her blog all about the art of smiling, the smile that wins. You bleach your teeth just like her and millions of unemployed actors, busy waiting on tables. Then with those bright white teeth your life will be complete, and you’ll get a 10 second walk on part in an advert for, yes you’ve guessed it, toothpaste. You do have to spend 10 dollars as well to get the book explaining smiling to you.

Then there is the blog explaining how to be nice, with how to shake hands thrown in for good measure, it’s a 15 part multi- media web based series. So you have to come back every  week to read more, or rather learn more, be taught more. Written by Jake “the man” McGooley, a retired tag team wrestler, 7feet tall and 280pounds. There are no extra charges. Only your inbox gets 40 emails a day selling you stuff. Learning to cuss you teach yourself, after getting 40 emails a day, I know I would.

There is the web based lesson on pray, brought to you by the church of the empty wallet, because their aim is to empty your pocketbook. Give 2 bucks for this and 2 bucks for that, not forgetting 2 bucks for the other. Twenty bucks in total, sent to a bank account on the French Riviera, where the prayer leaders is preying on you. This web based series is unending, because prayer should be unceasing.

A prayer, is a plea for help, nothing else.

So as I browse like a sheep all over the internet I look at this and I look at that, how can I get people to read my books and look at my sites. Should I pay to have an advert on the sites of these charlatans and cheats, or should I just mock them with my words?

As I have no money, I’ll just have to mock them. Then maybe people will think 3bucks a book is great value. Laughter is a great weapon to use, the Spring has come and now it’s time for me to dance, Its Springtime for Hitler, as Mel sung.