Hanging Out The Washing

Hanging Out The Washing ©

By Michael Casey

Well Winter is here, Christmas will be here in less than 3 weeks too, but what do we do with the washing, it still has to be done. Hail and sleet and snow may come and go, or just old boring rain, but still the washing has to be done. We are lucky I suppose as  we have a small back garden, so we can hang it out on our two washing lines.

My blue flags are the most distinctive part of the washing, as my Shanghai wife calls my pants. When I first went to Shanghai they were hanging from a bamboo pole from her mother’s balcony high in the sky, they were a landmark so I knew where I was. It’s very strange being in a country that does not use a Roman Alphabet for the first time, so my flag was something comforting if you like,

Back to now, and marriage and family and kids and washing hanging out in an English country garden, or rather our patch of green grass out the back. I hang clothes one way and the wife hangs them another way. I suppose its East v West, though my things tend to be 3 times the size of my 3 girls things. Their knickers are more like postage stamps, or handkerchiefs with shoelaces attached, if you have girls in your house you know what I mean. Mine as I said are like flags.

When it’s raining what can you do? Well you could use a tumble drier if you had one, though that is very expensive. Or if you can work out how to use the tumble drier feature on your Indesit washing machine. No like everybody else we put the washing on the radiators all around the house, socks here and socks there, and tights here and tights there as we have 3 girls in the house. Then there are school uniforms to be dried ready for school on the Monday morning. My stuff gets relegated to the upstairs rooms, I haven’t been at school for 40 years.

One radiator is a double one so it can hold more of a load, don’t forget the bathroom radiator too, no radiator is left uncovered, the bathroom has  a shelf so a pants mobile, or rather a mobile holding pants is pressed into service hanging from the shelf above the radiator. One day it could win a Turner prize.

Steam rises everywhere so windows have to opened to allow the steam to escape, the scent of our washing powder fills the house. It really is a Chinese laundry with Shanghai wife and bilingual daughters included. My job is to turn the items, like a fish fryer in a chip shop, sadly none of the items can be eaten.

When items are dry, and we do debate as to what constitutes dry then they are whipped off the radiators and folded so they can be taken upstairs out of the way. My stuff is never paper dry as I prefer, so I take it upstairs and unfold it and put it on a radiator upstairs. Later I can remove and fold it again, without the wife knowing, or so I hope.

As we pat ourselves on the back the sun appears, unexpected Winter sunshine, we could have left them out all along, but that wouldn’t have been as much fun. The Shanghai laundry mistress would have never been able to wag her finger at us, as she gives orders and I reply “sorry I don’t speak Chinese” in my best schoolboy French. 

Being Blunt

Being Blunt ©

By Michael Casey

What exactly do I mean by “being blunt”? Well I mean saying it as it is, not prevaricating, just saying it. Why dance around the houses, when what is needed is the plain simple truth,  HONESTY in other words. Some people just cannot tell the truth, even if it’s as plain as the walrus drink induced nose on their face.

People are afraid to tell the truth and shame the devil, as my mum used to say, tell the truth and I won’t beat you kind of truth. Double glazing salesmen and central heating installers come to mind. They will sit in your living room doing a pantomime, a calculator is even used, as if it will impress you. Then there is the discount afterwards, and then as if they are doing you a favour they will announce £3K or £2K or whatever.

Then you say thank you and show them the door. They may think they have another load of commission coming their way, my deadpan face gives nothing away. In fact the air is blue afterwards, what a &*((& I may say. No way will he ever get my order, my money. I always look dumb, but my brain is switched on. You learn more by pretending to be stupid.

As for doctors, they don’t say “you’ll be dead in a week, cancel your newspapers and season ticket for Manchester United” They um and ah and it’s very hard for them, they are healers not shareholders in the local undertakers. Though I could add that I could have been hit by a private ambulance this morning, killing two birds with one stone if you like.

People offering a service will go on and on and on, just how great this service is, and I’m not talking about the Vicar boasting about his carol service. I’m talking about maintenance companies, who’ll clean and power wash your gutters and even drains, and then charge £200. Me I gave a bloke a tenner and he sorted my gutters. If he had asked for £20 I’d have pushed him off his ladder, well almost. There is power in cash.

It’s so good for your child to do all these after school activities, it broadens there mind, more likely broadens the backside of the lady who sits there reading Hello magazine while your kids run around, or maybe that’s play places attached to pubs.

Please can people be honest and blunt, cos I can and will be blunt if people think they can talk down to me, and not get to the point, and I don’t mean priests on Sundays either. Sounds like I’m ranting, no I just want facts, I don’t want political speeches or their ilk, just give me the facts. I’m big enough to make up my own mind, and I haven’t got money to splash about in the wider educational interests of my child.

This is code for a school trip because the teachers always wanted to go there themselves, but their own parents could not afford it. While I’m talking about teachers it amuses my children that they get higher marks if they use more florid languages, score 2 extra points if you use alliteration. Me and my kids look at each other and say “alliteration is for people who cannot write.”

Have I been blunt enough, have I rambled, if you are blunt with me you will say I have rambled, but rambling with words is my exercise, exercise for my mind, and at least it does not leave sweaty soles, or souls.

Getting Ready for Christmas 2014

Getting Ready for Christmas 2014 ©

By Michael Casey

Well my small daughter asked could she put the decorations up, it was 1^st December yesterday. So she went rooting in the back of the pantry under the stairs and came out with a plastic sack, this contained the all silver Christmas tree. Christmas would take up residence in the girls’ room. She also decorated the dolls’ house as well.

Later she brought down the small green tree that would live behind the tv till Christmas and turkeys were finished. I also dug out the crib, the one brought back from Bethlehem, though now a bit dishevelled, I dropped it a few years ago and it broke in half so it had to be glued back together. It also has glitter glue all over the roof, as if a star had crashed on it. So really I suppose it’s more accurate than a pristine Hollywood production. It has a lived in look.

I had a look online for free ecards, you can have fun with cards nowadays. So I sent a silly one to our neighbour, though it could just end up in the junk mailbox. I was going to send another even sillier one, where you can cut and paste your own face onto a card. They even make a mini video of you all as elves throwing snowballs. Really funny, but then they try and sting you for 2 dollars, so I didn’t bother. I’m sure if you google “free ecards” you’ll find many more which are really free.

You have to find addresses for long lost relatives, and send appropriate Christmas cards. Santa on the toilet is not suitable for your maiden aunt, nor drunken reindeer all with red noses due to all the whisky taken. So you send Holy cards to your Holy relatives. A box of cheap Christmas cards, in both meanings of the word for work and school or college. Then a really nice one for your priest who helped you out during the year, and you used to think he was a right (*&&&&&&, but somehow HE managed to surprise you, so now he is your best friend.

You stock up on nice food to keep you going during your marathon tv watching sessions, you have to have “snacks” while you watch your favourite Christmas horror films over the Festive Season. And tissues too for when you watch It’s a Wonderful Life for the zillionth time, it always makes you cry. Don’t forget to hide some supplies, the kids will steal your Pringles or Terry’s Chocolate Orange, just when you need it most.

Drinks are important too, if your are a drinker then a stash of larger at the back of the panty is useful. In our house, fizzy pop and orange juice, blackcurrant squash are what hits the spot. So we’ll have 10 litres ready, not forgetting the ice cubes too.  

So we are all about ready now, did I forget something? Yes, baby Jesus with his mum Mary and dad Joseph, the Holy Family in a smelly manger, with animals for company, sharing the warmth. It’s the warmth and love of Family, that family and our own which is what Christmas is all about. It’s about the Future, the future of us all, 2000years ago, yesterday, today and tomorrow and for all Eternity.  

Wrapping Paper

Wrapping Paper©

By michaelgcasey

             

I was in Aldi and I spotted Winnie the Pooh wrapping paper, my smallest girl just loves all things Winnie the Pooh, so I got the paper. I wasn’t sure whether to wrap her Birthday present in it or just let her have the paper. In the end I gave her the paper to play with. She was delighted, immediately she wanted to use the wrapping paper to wallpaper the walls with. As I’ve said before she once said she liked Winnie the Pooh because his belly reminded her of my belly. Such is a child’s love, unflattering but love.

It did get me thinking though, why do we need wrapping paper? Packaging is part and parcel of ordinary life.  Easter eggs are the thing with the most packaging, so much packaging and then so little chocolate. My mother gave up on Easter Eggs because of the cost, there were so many of us Caseys after all. So we had bars of Cadburys chocolate instead, the Cadburys  factory is just a couple of miles from where I’m sitting. Easter came and we devoured the Cadburys bars, cheaper than the Easter Eggs but so very tasty.

People have wrapping paper or layers all around them,we can all remember what Donkey said to Shrek, so many layers like an onion. At the moment I’m dressing up in the wrapping paper called a “suit”, so that I can get a new job. So people can see me at my best, hide my tummy and hope they forgive my premature white head of hair, as for my bushy eyebrows God alone knows what they may think. You can judge for yourselves by clicking on the photos on this site. How much do you reveal, how much do you hide as you have an unnatural experience that is called an interview. Perhaps interviews should take place in a coffee shop, as you may know LLoyds of London started in a London coffee shop 100s of years ago. Even better interviews could be held in a bar. You have two pints to prove your worth, so don’t spill the peanuts over the interviewer’s haute couture dress. Perhaps then at the 2nd interview you have to sing karioki with the 2 interviewers, and IF you can sing My Way word perfect then you get the job. It sure would be more fun.

More wrapping paper is used when we are embarrassed or too shy to explain things to our doctor, we waste 5 mins talking about the weather and the Fall leaves before we finally blurt out that its a boil on the bum or something below the waistline. And why is it that on these occasions the doctor on call is one of the opposite sex, why can’t it be your usual doctor.

Wrapping paper is used an awful lot in Faith, we lie to ourselves and our God/Gods by thinking we don’t have to do this or we don’t have to do that. Faith can become a Buffet, we lie to ourselves and God, this bit does not matter, so we’ll show God only so much of ourselves. A bit like cheating in an exam. I’m sure  God’s smiling as he watches us, perhaps the Saints place bets on who will finally come clean, clean being the operative word. The Saints queue up ready to interven, which 999 or 911 call will come though so that a Saint can be dispatched. I know in1996 when my mum had died suddenly and then 8 bare weeks later my dad was given 1 week to live, we actually picked the hymns for his funeral he was so bad. Then all the layers, all the wrapping paper was off, Padre Pio came to the rescue. So that I met my wife in the old peoples’ home, 3 years after my dad came back from the dead. Dad lived long enough to hold his granddaugher in his arms, 5.5 years after that massive heart attack.

The ultimate wrapping paper is love, its hard to say you love somebody when your heart has been broken so many times before. Its hard to take a chance when somebody might laugh in your face. Slowly you reveal one thing, then another, then another, yes I can see  the idea of a Monty Python joke as I write this. I do write comedy after all. But when 2 strangers become friends, when 2 become one, then all the wrapping paper is off. She may not mind your hairy back or fat stomach, he may not mind her big feet or whatever she feared. It can turn out that  what one thinks is ugly your Love may find attractive. Love is Blind after all, Love conquers All, Love is all you need. Together naked, the wrapping paper is discarded.

MRI and Carpet

MRI and Carpet ©

By Michael Casey

Well I was minding my own business in bed when the wife came up with the phone. Its great modern phones, you are not attached to a line. I'm old enough to remember when only rich people had house phones, before mobiles were invented. So it was the hospital saying they had a cancellation and could I come in for a MRI on my back.

So that was good as you can queue for 2 months or more. So my wife drove me down to the hospital in her "madwoman" clothes, a bright red apron with Korean writing on it, this was on top of her pjs. As we are a Chinese family we don't get dressed unless we are going out somewhere. she wasn't going anywhere , just dropping me off.

When I got there, Carry On Doctor was on the tv in the waiting room. Thye ask you a load of questions before you go into the machine. Because the MRI is so powerful it can be affected, or you can be affected by all the magnetic power.

So I changed and took my watch off. Inside the donut is a tight squeeze and a little claustrophobic. It also took 15

mins and is quite noisy, so they give you headphones to listen to music while the machine works. They also give you a panic button. So I heard several Christmas tracks, before I was done. I have to wait 2 weeks before my GP has the results and then maybe I'll get some pain relief for that side of my body.  

Getting dressed I dropped my watch and the minute hand fell off, but there is a tiny clock at the bottom so I can still tell the time, so long as the hour hand does not jam the works.

The lady on reception and the 2 radiography lads were very nice and professional. I had spotted donuts for sale at the cafe at the entrance so I was going to buy some for my girls, only the wanted £1.15 each. So I left them there. I could get some at Aldi instead. So I had an unexpected morning.

I went off to Argos next once the wife had driven me home. Got a XL sized rug, to cover up the bad bits in our carpet. About £46, a new carpet for the entire room would cost 10 times that at least. I bought Axminster 25 years ago, now with my herd of elephants at home it is time to replace it. There is a slight problem though. My girls don't like the colour that I chose.  I said it'd go well with our new sofas, but I live with 3 girls so you can imagine what they think. So watch this space.

You have won!!!

You have won!!!! ©

By Michael Casey

You always delete junk emails, you always do but this time you didn’t, you don’t even know why, but it said you had WON £1000 of vouchers for B&Q or This&That or even for Whatis&Thingymabob. So against your better judgement or maybe you were just tired because of the pain from your arthritis or piles or whatever. So you started filling in the form.

It asked your name and address and so on, and then it asked a load of other rubbish. DO you want this do you want that? Are you this age or that, do you want to book your funeral or do you want to go on holiday, and please specify which of 4 possible destinations, assuming you weren’t heading for your grave, or was it just pre-booking it, as you love your family so much and you don’t want to leave them with the bill, because you are so considerate.

Then it sends you through a maze or slide of other offers and promotions, it even asks you for your mobile number, which you don’t know because you never ring yourself. You only have a phone so you can keep in touch with your daughters when they go out singing in the dark, or after dark. Finally you work out what your number is and then against your better judgement you put it in.

Then there’s more, more invasive questions, you half expect rubber gloves and a command to bend over to come from the online form. Then finally the end, and you see in the corner, so small that you need a magnifying glass that you have to pay them 4 quid a month subscription to “win” prizes. So really it’s a con, and it’s a misrepresentation, you have not won anything. They are just data mining you, and on top of it all they are charging you a monthly fee for the privilege.

They you go back to your email and you are supposed to make one final click, why, perhaps to accept them stealing the monthly fee from you. So you don’t do the final click. So you send them an angry reply, “leave me alone and never email me again.”

So you have saved yourself from their rubbish and them helping themselves to your money. Do they take it from your phone balance? Then you see right at the unsubscribe link, so you click on that too, for good measure.  And what does that say? It says you have unsubscribed, but do you want a chance to enter a competition to win some more stuff, and it offers two chances.

Sounds like offering life insurance at a funeral, just as tacky, so please leave me alone, you know who you are. 

I'm not just an object, I have feelings too!

I’m not just an object, I have feelings too! ©

By Michael Casey

Morning 79, morning 87, morning 99, morning 110, morning all. It’s a bit nippy today, don’t you think? Yes, it’s really nippy today, all the ice and damp, it’s bad for my loft. My gutters are a bit blocked too, the rain just leaks down my brickwork, making me look so bad, it lingers too, encourages all that horrid moss, I just hate moss.

Look out it’s that crow again, I hope he does not land on me, nor me, nor me. Too late, he’s pooped on my brand new double glazing, I hope that cat in 49 eats the swine. Tell me do I look bad, just tell me straight, how bad do I look.

Terrible, like a Red Indian with war paint on, but not as bad as the Goth Girl from no 95, sniggered the other houses. It’s going to rain later on so you’ll soon be clean.

She needs to go on a diet, she’s so heavy on my flagstones, added the pavement. And when she walks in those high heels, she gives me a headache, it’s like having acupuncture, make me feel like a pin cushion. The houses raised their gutters in agreement.

Could be worse, you could be a lamppost, said the lamppost outside no 94, I have dogs to contend with. The lamppost wriggled his light in disgust, the things dogs did to lampposts, dogs had no shame at all. The houses fluttered their upstairs windows, it was their way of having a shiver down their spines.

Children ran by on their way to school, dropping litter as they ran, and spitting out chewing gum. The pavement began to cry, he was always being picked on, nobody had national anti-bullying week for pavements. He was spat on, and littered on, and peed on by dogs, and far worse when night descended. Then why did people wear heels, they just gave the pavement tummy ache. If only he could have some fancy new cobbles, like he had 100 years before.

So the day passed with the houses talking to each other while their owners were out for the day. Sometimes the hedges and the rosebushes joined in the conversation, but mainly they surfed, surfed the breeze. Hedges and rosebushes were just old Hippies, peace and love was all they thought about, must be all the roots they have.

The telephone wires tingled, as calls and internet went through their wires, they told the houses what messages were being passed. It would be boring just being a telephone line hanging in a street, but they could listen in and share the gossip with the houses. And why did number 95 always buy so much plant food, he never put it on his bush.

The sun faded in the western sky, the houses got excited, soon the owners would be coming home. Houses got lonely if their owners stayed out too long, people were company for houses. The streetlights started to come on, except outside no 84, there was a fault, so soon Hope Street was all lit up, except for a dark patch outside no 84.  Kevin the lamppost was scared of dark, so he started humming to himself, it stopped him from being afraid.

Derek, that’s one of the owners not another lamppost, he saw Kevin humming, so he went up to him and kicked him. Kevin felt bruised, but then with a flicker his light came on. Derek was an electrician, so he knew where to kick, with a smile Derek went inside for his dinner, Kevin smiled too. Kevin would stand sentry all night long, but he did not mind, his light was on now.