As I look out my window

As I look out my window ©

By Michael Casey

As I look out my window I try and decide what to write about today, I can write about what I’ve seen on the news, or what I see out the window, or just from the window in my mind. I may write parody, like I did the past 2 days, or I may write from life, from our Shanghai/ Birmingham family, not forgetting Totoro our cat. I don’t know what I’ll write each day, it may be minutes or even moments before I know what I’ll put on the page. I just hope it’s interesting and amuses. I have been writing a long time now so I hope the quality stays high.

Now a few minutes ago 2 Polish men walked up the road carrying a bed, or the top of the pine bed frame at least. Are they moving house at this time of night? It’s nearly 9pm now. Or is one man giving away the bed to another man? Now because I’ve just seen that I could write 2 pages about beds, there is so much in the soup that I can just about write about anything at the drop of the hat. 

The soup by the way is my life experience, so I just ladle out a story just like a school dinner lady, though obviously I am much more attractive if I were in drag, David Walliams is a dear dear friend. So as I write the story I add the meat and two potatoes, and a dollop of gravy splashing over the plate and onto the tray and even onto your school uniform. I may or may not add pudding, it’s not up to me, it’s up to the story, if the story is very funny it’s because the story is funny, or does that sound too pretentious.

I’m listening to Celine Dion right now as I talk to you, she’s good. But she’s also sad, because the night my mother died her song was on the radio, You Lifted Me Up etc, so that song has a family connection to us, forever. So you can see how words and events have such power, they can control us and we not them. I enjoy not knowing what will happen with my story, will it turn right or left, will it go around in circles. I just hope it’s always interesting.

Now Totoro our cat jumps up the back of my chair, she’s a literary critic, she wants a cuddle before I’m allowed to carry on. The trouble with giving your cat or wife a cuddle is that you forget your place with the story. You can run out of steam in mid-sentence, so you have to end the story abruptly. Having music on can have the same effect, Celine Dion is singing I remember L.A. I haven’t heard it in ages, so I want to stop and listen so the story suffers. However as I’m explaining the mechanics of story writing its ok, now I’m  being nagged to go out to collect a Chinese takeaway, and the kids have come back from choir practice. They are telling me about a cute cat they spotted on their slow Summer evening walk back from choir.

Ok, I’ve just been up the road to New Peking, takeaways haven’t changed to Beijing yet, I’m still the take away fetcher. I get none either, my pigs say it’s for the good of my health, 18 months since my quadruple heart bypass and they’ll use any excuse not to share any nice food with me.

My big daughter is happy tonight, her braces are off after over a year, so now she has a plastic retainer over her now perfect teeth. I told her she looked like a rugby player with a gum shield, or a boxer. So she smiled back at me, and now she can smile. I did tell her we still have 1000s of photos of her with her gap teeth and I’d have posters blown up on the walls on her wedding day. Though some days due to all the pain I get  I wonder will I live that long.

Noises off, Totoro’s two bells ring as she tries to get some noodle left overs, she is of course bilingual, so you cannot fool her. As for me I’m back at the computer trying to explain things to you all. Perhaps I should have called this piece Explaining, that rings a bell and not just Totoro’s bells, is it a Clapton song? And yes I did meet him once but I told you that before.

So on the story goes and it should have a structure, it should not ramble, but so long as the rambling is interesting does it matter? Then the end by tradition does complete the circle. And they all lived happily ever after. In our case, my pigs have finished the noodles and Totoro got to lick the container clean, as for me I got nothing, for the sake of my health.

Now as its nearly 10pm and I may watch the news or we may all watch a film together I have to finish for the night. At this point I read back the story and listen to it in totality for the 1^st time, then I’ll give myself marks out of ten, and sometimes I’m really pleased where the story has led me, I don’t lead the story. On other occasions the meal I’ve prepared is not as tasty for me or for you, I can only use the ingredients in the back of the fridge, in my mind, in my soup. 

But then again there’s always tomorrow.

****** Thank you Mauritius and China for reading my stories, if you are an angel investor in China please email me, or then again you may think I’m a farmer.                              

                                                                                                                                                                                                              

Baubles for Children

_{Baubles for Children ©By Michael Casey}

<sub>Well I’ve really enjoyed watching the Politics here in England, in another life maybe I’d be a Political Journalist, my wife’s uncle was a Political Editor, anyway I’ll not bore you too much with Politics. Though I will say I AM the Birmingham Boris Johnson. The other comparison doing the rounds is where Prince Hal from Henry IV Parts One and Two becomes a true King in Henry V and that’s how Boris will emerge, I hope it’s true as the country needs to show its balls now. If it does work out, it really could be a renaissance for us all. I actually studied Henry IV Part One 40 years ago as part of my English Literature exam.

Now to today’s theme, baubles for children, teachers are really wicked when it comes to children. Yes this is such an important job, I want you to collect up all the pencils and put them in the pencil box, it’s such an important job, and don’t forget to put the lid on or the pencils will try to escape. Oh Cameron, you are such a clever little boy, one day you’ll be Prime Minister, you dad Tarquin would be so proud of you. And how is his new milk round going, he has a new float and its even faster than the old one, and now he sells potatoes and bread too, not just milk. Cameron you know you are my favourite, but don’t tell the rest of the class.</sub>

_{George, George can you stop shaking the moneybox, we are saving that money to send to poor people, I know you were only trying to guess how much money there was by the sound.  What, you want to be a drummer when you grow up, and you could use the money box as a groovy sound thing. You are such a clever boy George, I should introduce you to my cousin Ringo, he’s in a band called Worms, or some other insect. He can give you advice on how to make lots of noise. Yes you could fill the dustbin full of coca cola bottles and then roll it around the playground.  And you’d charge the rest of the school a penny a go, or they could pay in sweets. George you are such a clever boy, one day you’ll be a payday loan person, or a bailiff if you drank all your milk and ate your free school dinners. Look how big Clegg is now, I know he steals the slops and drinks all the dregs of milk. But he says it’s a liberal thing to do, and he is saving the environment, though it does make him fart fire. One day Cleg will be a central heating engineer, he told me so, it’s nice to have an ambition.}

<sub>Now Theresa can you collect up all the needles and pins and the safety scissors, you are such a clever girl, always praying. Can you stop gluing sequins to your shoes, I don’t think it’s fashionable at all. And what did you do to the toy leopard, you glued him to your wellies. Theresa you are such a naughty girl, but I do like your inventiveness, you can make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. What? One day you’ll be Prime Minister, and you’ll need to make silk purses from sows’ ears.

Where did all these flowers come from? What for me, you are all such kind children, I don’t deserve you. I think of you as my own children, I never married you know, I did have offers, plenty, w</sub>ell two, but it was just a flash in the pan. These flowers are just so lovely, where did they come from? You stole them from the cemetery behind the school playing field. You didn’t get them from the cemetery, where did you get them from Michael Casey, your aunty broke up from her boyfriend, and he sent loads of flowers to say sorry, but your aunty said you could have them. Because she has another bloke now, a big Polish lad from the chip shop.

I suppose I may as well keep all these flowers.









                                                                                                                                    

 

Moving Out Day 13th July 2016

Moving Out Day 13^th July 2016 ©

By Michael Casey

Where’s my socks? 2nd drawer down on the left, in my dressing room. Thanks, and where are my shoes? My shoe will be up your arse if you don’t calm down.

Sorry Babes, it’s just that with will we or won’t we and then finally it does happen, it’s all so sudden, I’m confused, I cannot think straight. You are definitely straight that’s why we have 5 children, you were the only straight man at Uni, that’s why I had to grab you fast.

You took my flower in the stationary cupboard if memory serves, I gave you my flower too. We all thought you were a sl-, if you finish that sentence I’ll give you a slap. But it was for the best, how many beds have we broken with our passion? Seven, the magnificent seven. It must me love, or lust. In future we must buy a bed from Ikea, or use reinforced concrete.

Where’s my collection of rubbers? I put them in an old shoebox marked RUBBERS in felt tip on the outside. I’ve worked in so many departments I just got into the habit of collecting rubbers. Isn’t that an American word for for Erasers, or is it the other way around? Tim, just put your pants on we only have a few hours before the new owner moves in. Couldn’t we just have one last parting shot? Where? Well they haven’t lifted the shag pile rug in your study.

So Tim and Louise had a parting shot on the floor, but what they’d forgot was that the movers had moved the curtains and blinds, so their performance was in full view of the movers and everybody else walking past.

Did you pack my collection of old Radio Times magazines? Yes, in boxes 20 to 55, with RT marked on the top. And did you send Tiddles to your sister’s until after the move. No, that was your job. No I remember I told you to do it. Let’s not argue, and while we are about it, can you just put your pants back on, I can’t argue  with that thing in front of me. Am I too sexy for my pants? Just like Right Said Fred? No you just remind me to buy some onions, we’re having stew at the new house.

Why is that box jumping over there, I hope it’s not a rat. You go on and protect me. Stupid, its Tiddles she loves hiding in boxes, the movers must have taped her inside, they are so incredibly fast. Don’t tell the RSPCA or we’ll never hear the end of it.

Where are the kids? They are at the new house already with my sister, setting up the wifi and the tv. Do you think they could live for a second without wifi? No, and I couldn’t live without you. Stop it we’ve done the farewell thing already. Don’t look sad, we can do the Hello to new house thing tonight. Will all the furniture be ready? 

Yes I paid the movers a little extra to do everything for us. Besides I said Boris and Michael my cousins would have words with them if they didn’t pull their fingers out, or they would pull their fingers out. I like Boris and Michael, how is their butchers shop doing now?

Shall we have a final look around before we go? I won’t miss the place, too noisy, all that drumming from the house next door, and all those argument between the neighbours, open the bleeding gate, you could have just left it open for me. That’s the trouble with party entrances and exits, no curtesy between neighbours. Not to mention all those expensive cars parked all over the place, I’m sure they must be car thieves, or something.

Well goodbye no.10 we’ll never see you again, what about those old glittery shoes in the corner. Leave them, perhaps Mrs Nott the new owner might use them in the garden at the back. 

Crying, I'm Crying

Crying, I’m Crying ©

By Michael Casey

Here in England it’s another day of laughter and tears, Theresa May will be our new P.M. or Prime Minister, as some say she has balls which is what we need to get us through this valley of tears which is called Brexit. On paper it could be a self-inflicted disaster, but the country has to make the most of it, no use crying over spilt milk. If you are a news/politics geek as I am then these days are days of infinite joy.

Tears are being shed and hair is being pulled out all as a result of Politics, but what happens when it’s really personal. Think of the tears that are shed when your mum dies, especially when it’s suddenly and unexpectedly. All of us will have to face that day, as you read this you may shed a tear thinking back to when you mum died, to when your brother died in that car crash, why didn’t you take those car keys away from him. We shed bitter tears of regret, why oh why didn’t we do things, then they’d be alive, then we wouldn’t feel all that guilt that turned us into an alcoholic as it was the only way to stop the guilt, through the bottle.

Whoever it was that died, the tears fall, they cannot but fall. But tears relieve us, they purge our soul. We shouldn’t have slept with that boy, that bastard, you were just another forgotten conquest. You should have slept with the geek, at least he would have really loved you, he would have married you if you got pregnant, but now, but now, tears nothing but tears. The geek was the best boy, but you were so pretty why should you give yourself to him, now tears are all you have, tears but no dignity. If you threw your pride away then maybe you still could get the geek to love you.

There are other examples of tears, tears of relief when you finally got that job, tears of joy when your wife said she was pregnant and you both assumed you’d never have a child. Tears when you wake up after your operation and you are still alive. Tears are such a relief, such a thing of joy.

My own mother died suddenly and unexpectedly, she died in the marriage bed next to her husband of 47 years, my brother tried CPR but she was gone. All the family cried, all except me. Mum had said don’t cry when I die, I know where I’m going so don’t cry. I didn’t shed a single tear for mum. Not even when the church was fit to burst, over 300 people and 5 priests on the altar. My mother had total faith, the faith of a child, when she died she had nothing to leave any of us, apart from faith, so that’s what she left me. So why did I need any tears?

So now 20 years later I just think it would have been nice for her to see and spoil her Birmingham/Shanghai granddaughters, but I’m sure from her vantage point she’s pointing at them and telling the Heavens “they are my granddaughters”. So if you have tears to shed then shed them, don’t feel guilty if you have no tears to shed, tears will come when they are ready to be shed.

In my own case my dad nearly died 2 months after mum had died, it’s all in Padre Pio and Me on the internet, then I cried, but he came back from the dead, dad live 5.5 more years. I met my Shanghai wife and we had 2 daughters, our eldest girl was held in my father’s arms, we celebrated his 80^th Birthday, then in the winter he died. Then I cried, I howled in pain, like a puppy dog in a sack being beaten with an iron bar, I howled for 2 hours. The tears came in torrents, the tears flowed, dad was such a strong man, life would have broken most man, but not dad. So the tears flowed like an ocean, but they were not enough, he deserved many many more. So if I were to become as great a man as he then I’d cry once more, tears of homage to his life, he was a gentle gentle harbour amongst many oceans of tears.  

Three Weddings

Three Weddings ©

By Michael Casey

Well I’m waiting for my big daughter to come home from a Wedding in Hereford, her aunty took her there now they are driving home to us in Birmingham. How do I know that? A parrot flew to us with a message, a pigeon post message if you like, ok my daughter just rung us.  But my explanation was more fun don’t you think? Earlier in the afternoon my small daughter was singing at a wedding, her sister didn’t join her as she was in Hereford at the wedding as a guest. It also happens to be my dead parents wedding anniversary. Three Weddings and a Windy Day for the Washing if you like, could be a title for a film with Hugh Grant.

My own wedding was very unique, perhaps even comic. We got a lift to the registrar office from Dr William and Cindy. William had a PhD in Metallurgy and he was delighted to meet my dad a blacksmith. The Registrar was the sister of a guy I worked with at City Hall in the computer room. He had set fire to his toast one morning  which resulted in the entire building being evacuated and the Brigade coming to put the fire out, luckily no damage done. As  for the offending piece of toast, it was framed and kept in a place of honour.

At the wedding my old school friend was there to sign the register, he was called Big D after a brand of peanuts, he was just so small. He was also a PhD, in Biochemistry, he claimed I stopped his heart, just by punching him when we were both 11 at grammar school. After the ceremony we went back to my sister’s house for a small celebration, due to my dad’s state of health we hadn’t bothered with any celebration. He had come back from the dead after his near fatal heart attack, 20 years ago. Then after 3 years of daily visits I final met my Shanghai wife, and the rest is history.

After the celebration we went back to our house, the new Mrs Casey carried me over the threshold, Chinese girls are so strong. Then a few hours later my old school-friend arrived and the three of us went to MacDonalds, the newlyweds and the friend of 30 years. My wife and Big D did chemical equations on napkins, I forget to mention my wife has a chemistry degree from Shanghai. Celebrating our chemical union by doing chemical equations on napkins in MacDonalds.

Your normal average Birmingham England Wedding Celebration, but there’s more. It was also the 25^th reunion of our old Grammar school. Now I’ve revealed too much, but maybe you’ll all rush out and buy my books on Amazon and then I can move house with all the Royalties, though I’d need a lot of books to be bought.

So we went and joined the class reunion in a bar owned by members of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. I bumped into my old Postman, who said I was Shanghaied and so I was with a Shanghai wife, he could not believe I was spending my wedding evening at a school reunion.  What else was I supposed to do, it was much more interesting the way it all turned out, after all I had been vetted by a Chinese ballerina from the Birmingham Royal Ballet before I was allowed to date my Shanghai girl. The vetting had taken place in the Queens Tavern, a straight bar in the Gay Quarter a year previously.

So there you have it my Wedding story, I was going to do a piece about Twitter but as the 3 weddings happened today this is was has turned up from the soup. The soup is my life experience   and like a dinner lady at school I ladle out the words to give you all a new story 2 or 3 times a week, so I’ve reached 760+ now. Twitter is fun, it’s like walking through a bar with drunks heckling each other, though there are some quiet corners of the bar. Then if you are lucky you can meet some great people through Twitter, or on other occasions you just meet me and 3 wedding parties in one day.

Elevator Advert for my Writing

Elevator Advert for my writing

THIS IS MY ELEVATOR  AD  AS  THE AMERICANS CALL THEM

Hello , how about a Verbal Cartoon for Radio and all other media

I grew up listening to the radio, we all used to hide under the blankets and listen when we should have been fast asleep. Radio did change my life, a lodger gave us a radio when he had to go back to Ireland to look after his sick mum. In fact he left all his stuff and caught the first boat home. Months later he came back to see us and said me and my brother could have his old Bush radio. I spent 20 years listening to radio. That and being afraid of Mr Gallagher when I was 8 changed my life, and improved my intellect.

Today after 20 years of radio and 29 years of writing, 49 years in total I think I’m a good writer, and thank God so do others. Yes I’m 57 now, in my head I’m 20, though my wife would say 12.

I met my Shanghai wife in the old people’s home, she was cleaning my dad’s room. I was positively vetted by a Chinese Ballerina  from the Birmingham Royal Ballet, now we are married with 2 bilingual daughters. I am the token male and English speaker in the family.

Now here’s a few samples, what I’d like to do would be to read my shorts/blogs on your radio. Each piece is about 90 seconds long, 90 seconds with Michael is the idea, simple idea. I have gained 17,755views on Funny or Die for a sample.

1^st chapter of Tears for a Butcher which will be my 8th book. Only the other day a publisher said my book of shorts 300 and Not OUT was very funny. In fact I must have 760+ shorts, enough for over a year. I have recorded 207 of them so far, 11 hours plus of audio.

I have started recording all my Shorts and have put 50+ of them onwww.michaelgcasey.typepad.com  I have a new mike now too, so listen in reverse order.

My  9 books are on Amazon Kindle

http://www.amazon.com/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1

and  www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com   is my site.

Here’s the samples for radio or print.

LinkedIn Profile  and  CV ©

By

Michael Casey

We’ve all been on Facebook and LinkedIn, we get to know people and make “friends”. On LinkedIn it’s more about connections and maybe business connections. So we have to rely on the Profile, my LinkedIn profile tells my story, as I am a writer. But how accurate are these Profiles?

I am a born leader.

Means he was the firstborn boy in a family of 11 girls.

I created the supply chain structure.

Means he decided to use a clipboard and notepad instead of just his memory.

I optimised the sales among target audiences.

He chatted up all the girls, he was kind to seniors and went to church.

I was inventive and creative in gaining new sales.

Means he designed a flyer and went street to street delivering them.

I was never afraid of going the extra mile for the business.

Means there was a street gang chasing  him after he was at  the bank

I am great at communicating the business message.

He just would not shut up, so the boss got him to tidy the fruit outside the ma and pa store.

I always try and improve myself.

Means he has no friends so he reads a lot.

I created the new scheme to optimise the business cash flow.

Means he took the store’s cash and put the money on a horse.

I am now looking for new opportunities to excel

Means he got fired, cops not called as the owner married to his sister

I created a great new idea for centralising purchasing delivery.

Means he was a guard for the money delivery company, crash helmet and visor.

I created my own start-up company

Means he stole the money from the cash delivery company and started his own company.

I am now on a learning sabbatical before resuming my career

Means he is in jail, working in the library.

So when you read those LinkedIn profiles or reading a CV or resume think what do they really mean. Check the photos out too, the reality can be far different. Just like actors, photos can be 10 or 20 years old, and they are. Dig deeper.

Me, I google and check people out, as far as you can on Google. Google me(michaelgcasey) and my sites and think for yourself. I am on a sabbatical myself, no I’m not in a library, thought we have plenty of books in the house, no it’s called arthritis, which comes and goes and makes me scream sometimes. But at least I can sit here and make some of you laugh, as I Google everybody.

Let There Be Light ©

By Michael Casey

Let my tears be my words

Let the candle light be my eyes

Let the flowers in bloom be my lips

Let their scent be my blood

Let the wind be my breath

Let clouds be my mood

Let children’s laughter be my hope

Let widows’ sighs be my conscience

Let a stranger’s prayers be my delight

Let the bees be my wisdom

Let the trees be my strength

Let my patience reach to the stars

Let me be always remembered in your prayers

The Dead and The Living (c)

by

Michael  Casey

I first saw a deceased when I was nine years old, my father said not

to worry as the dead are the same as the living, only the  laughter

has left them, the sparkle has gone from their eyes, the worry has

been lifted from their shoulders, and their voice has vanished  to

eternity.

In paradise the sparkle will return for it is the  twinkle  of  the

stars, the laughter will return too for it is the morning breeze and

the turning tides are their sides shaking with laughter.

I treat the deceased with the same courtesy as I give to the living,

though I find the deceased are always more polite. My father also

had a few words to say about the living.

He said that the living are only the caretakers of the soul ,  yet

they think their existence is everything, that they know everything

because they experience many things with their senses.

What the living don’t acknowledge is that their time is short  and

when I lay their bodies to rest then their souls  continue  without

them, without their strong, without their weak, without  their

beautiful or even ugly temporary form, to where I cannot say, only

that it is a better place.

Percy the undertaker placed the lid on the coffin, the soul was free

THE  BEGINNING

Sleepover©

By

Michael Casey

Sleepover is exactly that, your sleep is over, you have laughing kids invading your house, and driving you out of your minds. Well not always, but it is very distracting. You can’t remember what you were doing and where has that file gone on the computer. This is the 2nd time I’m telling this story, why, because my Word, or upon my word, the story died or rather Word did not close properly, so now you’re getting something different.

Total strangers, or strangers to you arrive at the house and kind of invade it for a night. You do shout up the stairs, keep them out of my room. Not because you have anything worth stealing, but they are stealing your privacy, and that’s all you have left if you have daughters in your house.

Then the smell of nail varnish drifts down the stairs and permeates everywhere, its worse than mustard gas from the Great War. You scream up the stairs, open all the windows fully, what about your room, dad? Especially mine.

Its then that your inner sanctum is breached as they bring their friends to help them open the window. They see the Teddy Bear that you’ve had since you were 6 years old, the invader laughs. She also sees the deep heat by your bed, And he complains about nail varnish.

Dinner time arrives and you have to feed the cuckoo, only she doesn’t eat this or she doesn’t eat that, on principle. So you say, you’ll have to stave then. Your daughter, the host, is horrified, so you relent and flick a pound coin at them, cholesterol free oil used to make the chips. So a compromise is achieved.

You put Sky Sports on to watch the match, they say Qatar is going to build underground stadia, novel idea. You are settling down to see Rooney when they arrive back chip laden. Her friend just loves the ballet and Sky Arts has Bolshoi on, so could they please please watch that. You say you’ll record it for them. But you are as bad as a puppy murderer even for suggesting it.

So being a nice dad you let them watch the ballet on your 46inch tv, while you retreat to watch the match on the laptop upstairs. They never tell you about this at parenting classes, just how to change nappies. Let’s hope William and Kate are told.

After the ballet they retreat upstairs for girlie music, and what were you doing in their room on the laptop. Didn’t you know you are just a dad not allowed in the inner sanctum. The Hits is switched on  their dab radio at volume 13, you retreat to watch the after match talk on the big screen.

Later its bath time, so you have to wait 2 hours for all the girls in your house, including the cuckoo, to pollute the bathroom before you a mere dad, and bill payer, can have a shave. Only your last razor has been used to save somebody’s legs.

So everybody goes to bed, all is well, holding your teddy bear, you sleep soundly. Until 3am, when a banshee screaming wakes you, your wife and all the neighbours. It’s the cuckoo, she’s having a nightmare, it must be the chips, and the cholesterol free oil from them. Or half waking up and forgetting where she was.

So remembering to put on your dressing gown you have to calm everybody down, and answer the door, to the police, as the neighbour from neighbourhood watch has rung them. So the police come in and have a look. Flatulence is written down in the Police note book. As you let the police out the house again your smallest daughter hands you your teddy bear, its ok dad, it’s only a sleepover.

How do Men Shop? ©

By Michael Casey

There is a difference between Men and Women, and thank God for it. But how do men shop? Shopping for men is about getting what you need, my shoes have a hole in them so I’ll go to the shop and buy another pair. A man will buy a new pair of shoes that are exactly the same as his old pair of shoes, or if he’s being adventurous he’ll have a pair of shoes which are exactly the same but with grey laces and not black. Now to a man this is being fashion conscious. If a man wants a new pair of trousers he just goes to the shop and sees if they have his leg/waist size and then tries them on, making sure they don’t split when he bends over and that his package is not squeezed. If a man needs a suit he checks the trousers before putting on the jacket, the jacket must be able to be done up without his belly exploding the buttons off. A man will never button up his suit jacket, but he needs to know that the buttons won’t fly off and hit anybody in the eye, if ever he does.

If a man needs a shirt he checks the neck size, 18.5 in my case, and then he sees if its full fit or not. Then he buys 5 shirts exactly the same all  in plastic . For a lazy shopper he’ll go straight to Slaters and get what he wants. In and out in 30 mins for everything. Then he’ll go to the pub and meet his mates and have one pint too many and leave all his shopping in the Queens Tavern. Luckily they are honest there and his shopping is saved, otherwise he’s have to waste 30mins in Slaters, before going back to the pub.

This is basically the difference between men and women. Woman shop, men pick up clothes or whatever like an order picker does, without any passion.  A man gets home and puts his shopping away and forgets about it. Just like in the film The Fly where the man’s wardrobe contains suits all the same colour, clothes are just a thing so they are all uniform.

As for women shopping s something different, the clothes have to be tried on and they must make the woman look perfect, her bum or boobs mustn’t be to big or too small, everything should be right. To help the woman chose her clothes she brings two or three mates or her children with her. Her man is forced to come too, but he plugs Radio5 Live into his ear and listens to the football  while she is choosing. Men know 5 colours, red, blue, red, green, yellow or maybe one or two more; as for a woman there are at least 50 colours, and just as the eskimos have 30 words for snow a woman has 10 words for each colour and its hews.

This brave man, or am I stupid, I just give my wife the debit card and say leave me in peace, so she goes off with a smile with the girls with her, they are young Fashionistas after all. I decided years ago what a wife needed was space to shop and not constant looks at my watch. So that’s what she does and her bulging wardrobe will testify to the wisdom of my decision. When a woman comes home its 2 hours of mix and match to make sure that the new clothes match the old clothes, the husband tries to watch the big match on tv but his wife is prancing around the living room asking “does my bum show” and various other questions. It’s a penalty, and you sit on the edge of your seat, the wife appears and blocks your view, so you miss seeing why  your side was relegated. Normal life in homes up and down the country.

The next day you watch the match again in peace, you remembered to record it on Sky+ and as for the wife she’s gone back to the shop to return ½ of what she bought because it doesn’t match her shoes. And it’s your fault because you wouldn’t give her your debit card again so she could buy cheap £100 shoes.

All Things Bright and Beautiful ©

By Michael Casey

I haven’t written a non-pain piece in a while, so I’ll try and forget the pain and write something new. We’ve just had the half time holidays and my girls have been playing “shop-girls” as they call it. They even have a sign on their bedroom door saying “open” or “closed”. They steal my wife’s clothes and prance about upstairs. Our eldest daughter has bigger feet than my wife now so that’s a relief as she cannot steal my wife’s shoes any more, but it does not prevent her younger sister from wearing mum’s shoes. There is also the matter of the beret with silver sequins, that’s an absolute Fashion Must.

Me, I’m not fashionable at all, three girls in the house is enough, if I gave in to them they’d be beading my eye brows, I do wear pink on occasions, so that’s as far as I go. If I were maybe 3 stones lighter I’d try other things, I did see a nice cord jacket in Cotton Traders 48R, it was bright blue, Kingfisher Blue, my girls called it a “Clown Jacket”. With encouragement like that what am I supposed to do? I did say if I win Euro millions I WILL buy the jacket. My wife has a nice light brown one, although as she is a woman there will be a more accurate colour name, men don’t do colours. If you think of it its black and white, blue, green, orange as far as men go, but women at least another 40 names for colours. As far as my hair goes, its silver, though a friend used to say I was an old man with white hair. As the colour of our hair change it’s the 7 ages of man.

I remember Ali saying why wasn’t it “Whitemail” instead of blackmail. We are in the Pink if we have good health, I long to be back in the pink myself. We say we hope be back in the black not in the red when we do company accounts, we look for the silver linings. We look look look for the rainbow as the song goes, we may find the crock of gold, all our troubles may be over and we can pack them up in the old kit bag. Hope springs up within us, it is now Spring after all, and as Chance the Gardener said “in the Spring there will be growth.”

Cheese and Chorizo ©

By Michael Casey

The thing about girls is that they steal your stuff, you think they are nice and sweet smelling, but they are not. If they get up before you they’ll raid your side of the fridge and eat your cheese and chorizo. Cheese and chorizo on toast, with hot chocolate to follow, this is how your daughters treat you. This is how my girls treat me.

Yesterday mum bought biscuits, and did she share them? NO. The girls got some but I got none. They were  the ones I really like, its always the ones you really like. I looked high and low, just like an Ah Ha song, but nothing. JJ the wife just laughed at me as I went from pillar to post looking for a biscuit, the Tunnock ones. See this is how the 3 girls in my life treat me, I am biscuitless. Finally after much derision my small daughter showed me  where the biscuits were, a new hiding place, that’s why I could not find them. So I was victorious, I sneaked a biscuit into my pocket and slipped away to eat it in peace.

Shoes are a big thing, so our small daughter walks around the house in mum’s shoes, mine are too big so thankfully they are left alone. However having two daughters who like Textiles, which is the fancy word from school for sewing and making things. If they like textiles then your clothes are not safe, they drag a shirt or two out of the wardrobe and say they want to turn it into something. Jumpers are not safe either, they can cut them down to make a dress  or even a handbag. And as for needles, it’s like having a porcupine in the family, DANGER. You only realise that after you have sat on a needle or two, the wife just says its free acupuncture, no need to asked Dr Hu to pay us a visit, and yes he really is Dr Hu, not Dr Who, but Dr Hu.

Now that our 11year old is 5feet tall, as big as mum, she wants to wear her clothes, but you can imagine what kind of clothes a Shanghai girl wears. So there is debate in Chinese, I cannot understand a word, but SANINGONGA is heard quite often which means no. Which also means my girls, our girls will return to steal from my wardrobe again. In a way it’s like having moths, but instead of holes in your clothes, entire items just disappear. BUT it’s not just the girls, its mum too, she’ll decide that the Fashion Police would not like this item or that item, so it  disappears.  When do I find out? Never, or nearly never, until I walk past a charity shop and see a tent sized item in the window, it’s my clothes.

So if you want to keep the clothes on your back, don’t have daughters. If  you want your favourite food safe in your side of the fridge, the none Chinese side of the fridge, then don’t have daughters. If you want to save your pennies, don’t have a Shanghai wife. But then life would be boring, just make sure you look before you sit.

From A to B from Sat Nav to Blocked Sink  ©

By Michael Casey

Well I hope you are all fine this morning. For us the Sat Nav debate continues. In the old days a Black Taxi would not be seen using an AtoZ, it was beneath his dignity. He’d done the Knowledge and it was all up there in his head. Jack Rozenthal wrote a great play about it, was it 30years ago? Maureen Lipman was his real wife.

Delivery drivers have and egg and bacon butty in one hand dripping egg on to the AtoZ in their other hand while they try and deliver a chest of drawers, with 5 days growth of beard for good measure.

Bus drivers know their route, so once they’ve done it a while its automatic, they know what they are doing. All they have to do is put up with kids trying to use a 3 day old ticket, and not get too high from all the cannabis on the bus. Or remember when they have switched routes because that can lead to strange directions.

Door to door salesmen all those years ago, with the rap at tat tat on the back door had their route carrying the suitcase with samples in. I can vaguely remember one at our back door did my mum buy a clothes brush? But that must be 45 years ago.

So basically we all know what we want and where we are going. Going further back they say people only knew a six block radius around their home. Going to War changed all that as did radio and then more importantly tv. Tv being our eyes on the world, previous to that only Merchant Seaman knew of the world. My own granddad was a merchant sea man, I sometimes wonder did he ever get to Shanghai

Or was it me, his grandson who got there first. Had he visited at the turn of the 19th/20th Century 100years and more ago.

Which brings us back to Sat Nav. Me I use a bus which is fine apart from the pot heads who sit next to you on the bus and all I want to do is puke. My wife is a car driver, so she and our girls love the car. But my wife has borrowed a Sat Nav and likes the ease of it so now she wants one of her own. The result is that I’m being nagged to provide one. You pay, me pay, yes you pay, why me pay, because you are the husband so you pay, no way me pay, you pay you pay yourself, I say. And on the ding dong, sing song goes. Which is the fun part. Me I no pay, use computer I say. You can get perfect directions off the computer all you then have to do is print them off, if our printer was still working we’d be doing that. So really all the wife has to do is copy them down, in English.

She’s  busy with the wok as I talk to you, she’s compromised now, she only wants me to pay half. So I say I’ll be doubly generous and double the share I won’t pay, I’ll pay zero and she can pay 100%. That’s the true spirit of negotiation, now I have another thing to resolve, she’s blocked the sink, so pardon me now as I take the plunge, or rather take the plunger to the sink, no need to use a Sat Nav to get there, its over my shoulder in the next room, just turn left at the tv and go straight on to the sound of bubbles. Love is everywhere don’t you know it, just find it, no Sat Nav required.

My other idea is a book of shorts, 40 stories with 40 translations

on facing page plus 40 audio of me reading my stories on usb stick.

Perfect to teach English as a 2nd language, via humour.

As I have written 760+ stories this would be a series of 15 plus books

So we could have Mandarin/Japanese/Urdu/Spanish/Hindi/Russian etc

This would be a world wide hit, angel investors needed

Thanks for reading this, that’s if Junk did not get it. I have come close and not got a cigar many times in my life, so I decided to try you. Radio is the medium for my words, 90 seconds with Michael, could go nationwide, it’s a simple idea, with great words, mine if I can be boastful. I have already recorded 207 of my 760+ shorts, 11 hours plus of audio.

some can be heard at www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com

Cheerio, Michael Casey

Email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com

www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com

www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com  to hear 50+ stories

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

9 ebooks and 3 Printed on Paper Books

http://www.amazon.com/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

Life is short so enjoy it. I’ve had a quadruple heart bypass and my arthritis comes out to play  too, so my view on life has altered now. Maybe that’s why one of my daughters wants to be a Doctor now too.