Why do we do it?

Why do we do it?

By Michael Casey

I was just watching Elementary on tv, it’s one of the shows I watch, Suits, Blacklist, Grimm, Dr Who are the others we watch in our house, not forgetting my daily fix of News. So why am I talking about Elementary? There was a line spoken tonight that got me thinking.

To be honest Sherlock explained why he did not want to be a dad, why he did not want to continue his line. In the episode a sex partner had been asked by his dad to breed, so that Sherlock’s dad could be a grandfather. The girl stated that Sherlock was remarkable and his talents should be passed on to the next generation.

However what Sherlock said in reply was revealing about Sherlock’s state of mind. Sherlock said he was an investigator not because he was noble , quiet the reverse, he was an investigator because he had to be. If you  like investigating was his therapy, otherwise his skills, his abilities would overwhelm him. He was good not for goodness sake, but for the sake of his sanity.

I mentioned this to my big daughter and she said it was very philosophical, it is a very thought provoking concept. I was once told by the niece of a famous Irish writer John B Keane from Listowel that he wrote because it was in him. This was in his bar maybe 20 years ago, I then thought that was a simplistic answer.

Now I know better, my own parents are Kerry people too, so it may be in the water, or in the breast milk that has turned me into a writer as well. We do things because we have to, it’s in our nature, it’s in the breed which is what my dad used to say to explain why certain things happen. The gene pool bubbles away, just as the soup my Shanghai wife brews in her pots for days, then finally something emerges, even if it’s not the Loch Ness monster, though Google may know more about that than any of us.

So something within has to come out, it’s a primeval thing, just like the urge to breed, though Sherlock did not want that responsibility, in fact he had a negative self-image. This was sad in fiction like tonight’s Elementary, and in real life it’s tragic too. We have to accept ourselves, warts and all. None of us is perfect, but life is all about honing our skills and making ourselves a better person than when we arrive on this earth.

Today on the news we had a tragic case of a girl dying because of poison pills she bought on the Internet, diet pills which killed her. These and legal highs are in fact illegal lows which kill, which destroy families and leave pain and sorrow behind. Perhaps this should be an Election issue. This girl had something in common with Sherlock, her self-image caused her pain which led in the end to death.

Sherlock has all these skills, and he uses them to help the NYPD,  it’s a symbiotic relationship, he is the little bird pecking away at the rhino’s bum, it gives him a purpose and keeps insanity at bay. But what of you and me? Why do we do it? What makes us help out at the charity shop, what makes us play golf in the rain. Why do we teach English to refugees. Why do we vote SNP or even Tory?

Pleasure is the answer to all these questions, it’s not as pleasurable as sex or alcohol or rock and roll, but it gives us pleasure. What gives us pleasure? The thing that makes us feel fully alive, the thing that makes us feel wanted, the thing that makes us feel wanted. Why do we visit the sick in hospital, why do we go to our church and clean it on Tuesdays. Why do we raise money for charity by doing sponsored events.  There are many many more examples, you can pick your own.

We get a kick out of doing good, whatever our small talent may be, it’s when we use that talent that we feel fully alive. Look at me I’ve been writing since 1987, I’ll never be famous or make any money from it, but I’ll still bore you all with my stories.

Other people have other skills, such as the leader of the choir who spends a lifetime teaching music.  Betty Williams is one such person who can be found at Saint Hilda’s, then there are the lolly pop ladies/men who shiver in the cold keeping our kids safe. There are many more examples I could give but you can pick your own from your own communities.

So why do they do it? I suppose in the end its Love. Love of whatever their skill is, and love of their community. It’s not any Big Society, or any fancy political words from the Left or Right. I thing people do it because it’s in them, it’s in the breed. We are all individuals, we are all pieces of a jigsaw. What we do holds this jigsaw together, and without all the pieces the picture is not complete.

We have to play our part, otherwise we are just a jumble of shapes on the floor, without meaning, without hope. But when all the pieces are place together and locked in place, then we have made love, and we are complete, one connected with another.

This Love is for Eternity

This Love is for Eternity ©

By Michael Casey

This Love is for Eternity

This Kiss is from my Heart

This Touch is full of Warmth

This Sigh shakes more than an Earthquake

This Whisper crashes Louder than the Sea on the Shore

This Caress is Deeper than Thunder

This Look is Brighter than Lightning

This Desire is greater than the Grand Canyon

This Song sings louder than birdsong

This Hope reaches beyond the Stars

This Love is mine freely given to the one I love

This Love is yours freely returned like the Tide itself

This is us, not one but two, but one again

This is all I can offer, this is my Prayer

This Love is all I have, my heart is Empty now

As I look to the Stars I hope my prayers have been enough

For this Love is Eternal

For it is my very Soul

Picking the Winner

Picking the Winner ©

By Michael Casey

Well it’s 18^th April and the Election is less than 3 weeks away so I thought I’d help you all choose a winner. I was in fact a trainee betting shop manager in one of my previous existences, so I should be able to help, well so much for the theory.

When you pick a horse you can go on form and how glossy the horse’s coat is. You can see who the jockey is and the jockey’s win rate and so forth, you can go on the pedigree of the horse, its parentage and so forth. And if all else fails you can pick your lucky number or the colours the jockey is wearing.

But what of Politicians? They have pedigree too, they are all bastards, that’s what we can all agree on. Though some guy or girl can be a right bastard, but would be a great M.P. he’d fight your corner, he’d be a great man of the people or woman  of the people. If you read chapter 9 of my novel The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker you’ll see my view in full, there M.P. means married to a people, and an undertaker wrote all the election speeches.

Now who do you pick? The guy in the nice suit who smells nice, cK1 and all, or the grubby one in the crumpled suit. Or the nice lady in the coloured shoes, with the skirt showing off her legs, legs so much better than her party’s policies. Or would that be a non PC thing to say. Or the man who looks at his reflection all the time, who can’t wait for his leader to lose so that HE can become leader, this election is just a stepping stone, HE is showing his legs metaphorically, he’s just waiting till he can run for leader.

There are blunt M.P.s and candidates, who you wouldn’t mind to spend an hour down the pub with, who are really interested in you and your area. There are the professional politician types with the glazed over eyes, who are looking at their watches all the time, but do make good speeches. The question you have to ask yourself is would they take their jacket off and help change a tyre for you if you broke down. It’s always best to judge people by their actions.  

Women have intuition; they can tell if somebody is “nice” this is what we should all be doing as we see this guy or that guy on the tv or on the radio. On the doorstep, we just tell all of them to  “piss off” as we are watching Corrie, we take their leaflet and say we will vote for them as we rush back to Corrie. So the figures are skewed while any soap is on tv, as we all lie just to get rid of them, soap beats politician hands down, any time.

This election more than any we are all already bored by it as it’s been going on for too long, so in the end we will all rush to the Left or to the Right at the last minute; though I would always say use your vote tactically, just so those looking at their own reflections and who are little robots get a kick up the backside.

Vote for somebody you’d enjoy spending an evening with. I can actually reveal that maybe 45 years ago I did attend a political meeting, I even bought a raffle ticket to win a glass ashtray to raise funds for that party. If I had stayed maybe you could be voting for me today, in this election. Michael Casey M.P. what do you think about that?   

    

  

)Over The Garden Fence

Over The Garden Fence ©

By Michael Casey

It was very sunny here in Birmingham yesterday, so as I was home alone, my wife and daughters are in Paris, I decided to annoy my neighbour. If you are wondering why I wasn’t in Paris too, then I should remind you that I had an unplanned Triple Heart Bypass a couple of months ago etc.

My neighbour was digging, so I asked my neighbour was she going to plant potatoes. Mary replied that she was not, her Irish accent growing stronger, I had annoyed her straight away. She joked that she might hit me with the shovel, so not be annoying her, as she wiped her nose on the back of her hand. Mary is sophisticated that way, the perfect foil to her rugby playing doctor boyfriend. She digs potatoes, while he breaks limbs on the rugby field, but sets them afterwards, he is a doctor after all.

I mentioned to Mary that the garden fence was flapping in the wind and it could come flying off and hit me. Mary leant on her shovel and spat on a worm that had wriggled to the surface. A bold magpie swooped down and had the worm a la spit, a perfect snack for a magpie. “I’ll add it to me list” she replied.

I have the knack for improvising, years in a computer room and in a hotel makes improvising second nature. So I told Mary I would help fix the fence, I went back inside my own house and returned with some elastics. “Is that knicker elastic?” laughed Mary. It did look somewhat similar, in fact it came from a mattress topper. Now it would fix the fence and save it from flying off and hitting me.

S

o I threaded the elastic through a hole in one of the fence boards, then I told Mary to tie a knot in another not knicker elastic, and finally in a 3^rd piece of not knicker elastic. Once this was done we tied it around a fence pole. Hey Presto the fence panel was secured and thanks to the not knicker elastic the gap in the fence disappeared.

I gave Mary a cup of tea over the fence as a reward, only I put sugar in it, I’m diabetic screamed Mary clutching her throat. I’ll ring for an ambulance I said. Then she started to laugh, she liked pulling tricks on me. I decided I had enough sun and Mary for the day so I went back inside, besides Sky News was on, I couldn’t miss that what with the Election being on.

Funny or Not

Funny or Not ©

By Michael Casey

just read in the DT that it’s so hard for comedy writers at the BBC, there has to be a committee to decide what is funny or not. Though this is really a PC committee, God Help Us. I know a little about the subject, as I try and write humour in the main. Oh No You Don’t I can hear in reply, in best Panto tradition.

Humour is all about timing, and I know about that too, Oh No You Don’t I can hear you all mutter as you chew on your Easter eggs. I also know about pain, thanks to my Arthur and my Triple Heart Bypass. You deserve all that pain, just for posting all that “humour” I can hear you mutter as chocolate dribbles down your face this Easter Sunday.

Let’s assume I do know what I’m talking about, don’t choke on your Easter eggs, on second thoughts do, I can’t talk to you while you are sniping. So as I sit here talking to you, a few spasms of pain rippling through me, you are quietly choking on your settee, so I’ll just say thank you for not interrupting.

I spent 3 years at a 4 star business hotel, the CPNEC, so I had plenty of time to practice talking to people. Robin would always lean over the reception desk and ask “what did you say, why are they laughing?” Then when I explained what I’d just said he never quite got it. Why? Because of the timing, you have to be there to understand otherwise the “moment” is lost. It’s all in the timing. Some unkind people on the desk said “Michael’s doing his routine” it was no routine it was personality. You can continue choking on your Easter egg, I will not be interrupted any more.

I saw and maybe spoke to 100,000 guests during my time at the hotel. So that’s why I can boast, or rather state I have experience. I started writing back in 1987, so my view on life goes back to then, prior to the writing I spent 20 years listening constantly to BBC Radio4. I would encourage any parent to glue their child’s radio to BBC Radio4.

Writing is all about observation, some may not see the humour in the world around them. I was in the queue at Iceland yesterday there was a very tall lady paying for her frozen peas. It wasn’t frozen peas but it reads better and funnier by saying frozen peas. Anyway she gets her purse out and what’s on her purse? The design is giraffes, a tall lady with a giraffe purse. I told my wife and small daughter when I got home and they laughed. Now if you are not smiling at the very least then all I can say is that you really should choke on your Easter egg, because you are already dead.

We all go about our daily lives with our eyes closed, if we open them we can see the humour all around us. Look in the mirror do you laugh at yourself? I do. Look at your family and see God’s gift to you, it makes me laugh, I had stood by the fridge and cried and prayed for a family, and what did I get? You can google me and find the family photos for yourself, just google “michaelgcasey” Then you can see God’s sense of humour.

As for words and stories they build a picture and can bring laughter, lots of laughter. You just have to be slow about it, give the words space to breath. There is nothing worse than being too fast, than a smart Alec interrupting and killing the flow of the story. At this point in time in our family, the wife has a new car, my daughters are getting a kitten, and what did I get?

Triple Heart Bypass surgery. Thanks God. But seriously I should thank God because I’m still alive and can see my children grow up. I used to sing and scream out the song Blasphemous Rumours by Depeche Mode when I was on the night shift maybe 25 years ago. The line in the song goes “And when I die I’ll see God laughing” And you know what? I bet that’s exactly what will happen.

We are expecting a kitten

We are expecting a kitten ©

By Michael Casey

Before Christmas I joked that my girls could have a cat if I had a heart attack, and a dog if I died, I then had an unplanned Triple Heart Bypass. So now they are getting a cat, we will be calling it Totoro, or rather my small daughter who loves all things Totoro has decided to call it Totoro. And all because of God’s sense of humour, and my weak heart, which I didn’t even know about, but God must have, because I’m still alive. Or maybe God just loves cats.

A friend of my big daughter has just had 4 kittens, so 4 loving homes are required. My girls came home with pictures of the cats on their phones, so finally the witch, as my wife is known, agreed to have a cat. I had already given in once I’d come home from hospital, now finally the 2^nd parent had agreed. I picked the spotty cat, so long as it was male, girl cats have no morals, they always have kittens, always out late at night and hanging around on fences, howling and so forth.

It turns out that Totoro is a male cat, so once he is weaned off his mother’s milk he’ll find a new home with us. Totoro is Japanese as all you studio Ghibli  fans will know, but our Totoro will be hearing Chinese and English, so he’ll have to be a bilingual cat.

This morning me and my small daughter went up the road to the shops is search of all things cat. When I grew up we always had a cat at home, Jean was her name, we had her 20 years. She knew when it was Sunday, not because she was a Christian, but because she always had the giblets from the chicken on a Sunday. Or dogs had a good life too, dying and going to dog heaven, as we were a big family so the dog always got something.

Today me and my small daughter went in search of a cat collar and basket. We tried the plastic shop first, so called as it sells all things plastic. I led my small daughter up and down the aisles, it was like an Aladdin’s cave, but without the gold, just lots of plastic items and other such stuff. We spotted baskets in a variety of sizes. We also saw large plastic storage boxes which could be used instead of baskets. Just add a small blanket. There is so much to think about when you are having a kitten, meanwhile a neighbour is due for her baby. I saw her boyfriend bringing in a stack of nappies, just who will be busier?

Pleased that we had discovered where the wicker baskets were we went on to our next port of call, the market. We were lucky as today 31^st March is a Tuesday so the market is open, its old fashioned and closes on Wednesdays. In The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker my comic novel it opens on a Wednesday, early closing, but that’s another story.

So me and my small daughter examined the market, we found the wool section, which Totoro would himself enjoy should he get to visit, it must be kitten heaven all those brightly coloured balls of wool. Going around the corner we discovered a second hand furniture section, it was not there the last time I was in the market. £5 for an office chair, I’ve paid 20 times that for the chairs I sit on while I talk to you all. Though to me they do seem a bit manky, but if £5 is all you have then buy one from our local market.

Turning around another corner we found the pet section, the dog and cat food section. There was a nice cat collar with a bell and reflective too, years ago girls had a thing for fashion, a dog collar it was called, my sister one, but that was 40 years ago. We didn’t buy it, we still had a 3^rd shop to look at. Poundland.

Poundland  has all kinds of everything, but no assistants called Dana, we found 2 cat collars for a pound. Then we bought 2 bottles of disinfectant, to tidy up any accidents. I’ve told both my daughters that they are in charge of all pooh and pee that comes from Totoro. We found scented bags of the litter tray, then there were flea collars too.

We were very happy future kitten parents, so we went to the till, we decided not to buy the 2 collars for a pound, so we discarded them, on a pile of energy drinks. The rest we did buy. Walking back down the road we decided to get the fancier collar from the pet section of the market. Our Totoro would be ringing a bell and stand out in the dark, see we love our kitten so much already.

The weather was so windy today, I had to hold my small daughter to make sure the wind did not blow her away, she would make a perfect kite in her bright red coat. We got home happy and my small daughter told her bigger sister all the kitten preparation news. So it’s just the basket we need to get. It’s almost as exciting as Christmas, and that’s when I made my promise, and we all know what happened next.

Return Of The School Run

Return Of The School Run ©

By Michael Casey

This week marked the Return Of  The School Run, my small daughter asked could I take her to school again. I had stopped due to the inconvenience of the Triple Heart Bypass, I have started to go walkabout already, doing the morning school run would double my walking each day. I should add that I was walking 20 miles a week prior to discovering I needed an unplanned heart operation, but now I was doing 20 to 30 mins a day walking, less than half than what I used to do.

My daughter had waited till 10pm at night before asking me could I resume my school run duties the very next morning, so of course I said yes. She skipped up the stairs happy, clutching Totoro to her heart. The next morning was very busy, as all four of us were in the queue for the bathroom and the cooker.

I also had to take my morning meds, all 6 of them, I have a groaning carrier bag full of meds hanging on the back of the pantry door. I have to have them with food, so I have to make my toast while my dissolving asprin dissolves. The pain killers I have to take have a strange side effect, you cannot go to the toilet, so you have 3 spoons of laxative to be taken twice a day. All this medication continues to save your life, post op, it also leads to man boobs, or so I’m told.

So me and my small daughter resume our journey down the road and around the corner and up the hill to her school. One more term and she’ll be going to secondary school with her sister, but for now she’s daddy’s girl. Bonding is the fancy word for all this, Loving like a Dad, like only a dad can, is what I call it. Dad is James Bond as far daughters are concerned, you hurt my little girl and you’ll be shaken and not stirred, any dad will tell you this.

Today was the 3^rd day of my return to school run duties, I was reminded of Jack Rosenthal the writer as we walked up the hill, why? Jack had said he did the school run because he heard so much that it was great material for his plays.

As we walked my daughter chatted away, as happy as a sand boy, or should I say girl. She said it would be great if you could donate sleep to those who needed it. I need a sleep donation every now and then as the pain wakes me up. She did say that donors would be rewarded, it sounded like they got candy floss in return for each donation, but I might be wrong as I had to pull my hood up against the cold, I have to make sure I stay warm post operation.

So we continued up the hill and she triggered ideas for stories with each step we took. In 300 and Not OUT one of my 8 books you can read lots of stories inspired by her and her sister, not forgetting the Witch as we call my wife. By the way Juliette in Grimm on tv has turned into a witch, well worth watching.

A child’s mind knows no barriers, this can connect with that, and the impossible does not exist as everything is possible. So maybe she’ll be the famous writer, and illustrate her own works too. Maybe that’s why God, Fate, Luck, or maybe my daughters' prayers saved me this year, so I could be there for my small daughter doing the school run.