Words Past Present and Future

Words Past Present and Future ©

By Michael Casey

Its Chinese New Year 2017, no doubt my wife will tell me which animal it is this year when she comes home later. I think I’m a dog even though my Chinese nick name is Panzi or Pig, but at least I’ve never been called a Dog. Words mean something and they have weight and value, though some may say a Politicians words are as worthless as a Used Car Salesman or an Estate Agent or Double Glazing salesman.

So you can see Words mean so many different things, to you, to me and to the World. I’ve only ended up talking about words today as Theresa May our PM is traveling the world drumming up trade, the irony is that Napoleon dismissed England as just a Nation of Shopkeepers, and look what happened to him. A Nation of Shopkeepers was the original title of my 1^st book a comic novel, in the end it became The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker.

Why are words so important, because of the actions that follow them. He’s all talk and no trousers is one expression, I remember hearing it in a 1960s film perhaps, I know what it means but I don’t know what it means. Was it originally a girl commenting on a man’s lack of sexual performance or was it just that the man just talked but then did nothing. It’s about lack of action, whatever sort, you can all Google it for yourselves.

Red Lines are another favourite of Politicians, but if a Red Line is crossed and then there is no action afterwards then the Politician is seen as weak and feeble, no matter who they are, you can pick your own Politician wherever you are in the world reading this.

Cursing and Coarse words are very strong and effective, we all use them and if you are telling me you have never used such language then I’d say you are a Posh Panda, which is the worse thing a Shanghai zookeeper can say, believe me I was at the zoo17 years ago this very week. A curse can save a life, being called a Posh Panda in Mandarin saved me from being dumped on by a giraffe, and that would have been load of pooh from a great height. You all have a cartoon in your mind now of my head and a giraffe’s rear end, see cartoons made from words.

Your Word is your Bond, though not shaken nor stirred, if you say you are going to do something then you should do it. In different Cultures words mean different things, other cultures like to haggle and bargain that’s why Westerners seem dull and boring because they just pay the price. The Haggle is the most important part of the day for the trader in foreign lands. Words are his toys, he goes home and tells his wife the top 10 haggles of the day, English people tend to be the most boring as far as he is concerned.

That was until he met my sister on one of her travels. This looks like a load of crap she’ll begin with, though she’s posh as you expect her to be, so she says R U B B I  S  H spelling it out, just so the trader can hear. He’s reading Time magazine, he did a Masters at the LSE before coming home to run his dad’s stall wherever. Then my sister will walk away and look at another stall, tut tutting, the rubbish here is unbelievable. 

She’s set her heart on a scarf of pure silk, not viscose, she knows the difference at 100 metres, she is an international traveller after all. So she goes up and down the stalls lambasting the quality of their stock, I wouldn’t even donate this stuff to a jumble sale.

It’s a dull day, it has been raining and trade has been very bad, so my sister is like a shark circling, she’ll have a bargain or bite their arm off. After stopping for street snacks she deigns to walk past the 1^st stall, her target, her prey. How much do you want for this dirty rag, the scarf not your Time magazine, who is that blonde on the cover, never mind, how much for the rag.

The stall holder says 10 she laughs and walks away, ok 9 he offers. My sister laughs even more, she does teach Drama after all, so her wicked witch laugh is legendary. The laugh unsettles the entire market, the stall holders are afraid and one even rings the priest. Resistance is futile you will be assimilated blares from a tv above the  market, the stall holder gives my sister a scarf , she pays 5. In his haste and fear he give her a scarf worth 20, and the stall holder mumbles goodbye my sister turns back, half the other stall holders duck in fear. I always have a GOOD BUY.

So from the legal, decent and honest example of my sister’s use of words, or did I just make it up, anyway from the example you can see how we can use words to negotiate to get what we want. Now we have Theresa May negotiating for UK and some may ask why does she wear red and all the fancy fashion.

Well for two reasons, she is a woman, and when she wears red that it to hide the blood of her victims, sorry I should be more diplomatic, her negotiating partners, her opposite numbers. And why all the heavy circular jewellery, its remind men that she will crush their their, just as Sir Francis Drake did after he finished his bowls.

 Need I say more, or has my lack of words been more than enough. Less is more and as her admirers may say, she may only be the vicar’s daughter, but you haven’t got a prayer, as resistance is futile, or is that science fiction?

The Return of the Paint

The Return of the Paint ©

By Michael Casey

Well I had my 2 pain days and so I thought that today I’d catch up on my painting, yes I am quite a Picasso, streams of Oriental models pass by so I can paint them. I look more like Einstein than Picasso, and the nearest I come to Picasso is when I scratch my derrière. No unfortunately I cannot paint, the rest of the family can but I cannot. The painting I was talking about it painting done with a big pig’s bristles paint brush, wall painting.

I haven’t done any painting in ages, but I thought I’d do a few touches before we try and sell the house. We did do up the bathroom, a friend of my daughter’s is doing Graphic Design, so I used him to paint our bathroom, I did of course pay him well and feed him too. Today’s painting was something I thought I could do myself, a Polish builder friend of the wife who we might use in the future he advised I use 3 coats of paint for the job in hand.

I have to be very careful when I do anything physical, as I might strain myself. A neighbour had a heart attack and died because he did too much gardening. So I do a bit have a rest and then do a bit more.  It’s horrible having to admit you are not as strong as you used to be. But I am alive and my daughters like that, they got the cat and not the dog, if you remember my promise of 2 years ago before my quadruple heart bypass.

The Prep is the hardest bit of all, you can look at a job and estimate just how long it will take. Then you have to prep and make space, and throw away stuff that you should have thrown away before. Then there is the sink of the paint itself. The ladder, the 30 year old aluminium ladder creaks under my weight, but at least I did not spill the paint. As I painted I estimated I’d have enough for the 3 coats spread through-out the day. I did not spill any paint and slightly out of breath and slightly high due to the paint fumes I stop  and have  a rest.

I am allowed 4 hours rest because the paint needs 4 hours to dry between coats. In actual fact I’m more tired than I thought I’d be so I have 6 hours rest. This includes 45 minutes trying to get paint off my fingers. Washing powder, the stuff you wash your clothes with is best for cleaning your fingers it’s the grit in it that does the trick.

Totoro had been sleeping and awoke to investigate what the smell was, so I had to say NO, to prevent her from turning herself into a paint roller. Then I chased her away and had a break. You need more breaks after a heart op, I’m told by my priest it’ll be 1 more year before I’m back to normal whatever that is. All in all I’ve very pleased with my efforts, I didn’t spill any paint on the carpets, and after the second coat of paint I was more skilled at cleaning my hands than I was the first time around.

The house stinks of paint and I do wish I was Picasso, not because of the Oriental models queuing up to be painted by me, but rather that if I were Picasso just one signed menu could bring in enough to buy a house in itself. Besides which my wife is an Oriental model, though I didn’t marry her for her looks but none of you would believe that.

As for me I still have the vain hope of getting columns in a newspapers world-wide. I can paint with words of many colours, and maybe I’ll start in the East and then go West, just like the sun. From Izvestia to the Sun now that would be an achievement, not even Churchill could have matched that.  

Still Alive 2015 a book in English

https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com/2017/01/27/still-alive-2015-a-whole-book-70000-words-all-still-my-copyright/


click the link to read in full in English my book Still Alive 2015

I'm Staying In Bed

I’m Staying In Bed ©

By Michael Casey

I can write from experience these past few days, what with all my aches and pains and so on. I wish I didn’t have the experience, but as a writer, you write about what you know, and you make up the rest. When was the last time you, yes you picking your nose and scratching your unmentionables, can you stop it, I’m trying to talk about staying in bed.

If you are sitting comfortably, then I’ll begin, Johnnie at the back stop doing that, Mary stop encouraging him, how can you listen to me if you are doing that. They are playing hard core chess, those Russian readers of mine, are so dedicated. They are in bed playing chess, it’s far too cold to go outside, its Russia in Winter after all.

I could have done with one of those Russian hats to keep me warm, maybe if my chess was way way better I could win a Russian winter hat, though I wouldn’t want to be in bed playing chess, I am from Birmingham after all, though Russian girls are said to be very pretty, I’ll leave it to your imagination…

Now I am staying in bed because it’s so cold and I’m full of pain, I haven’t got the energy to do anything today. I’ll put my radio on and listen to Magic radio while I hide under the duvet, I’ll just sing along to all the songs and frighten the neighbours next door. I am of course an excellent singer, in my own imagination anyway, I am told I am tone deaf, and I sing so loudly I make everybody else deaf. But under the duvet I am just so happy despite  the lingering pain.

The problem with staying in bed is that you have to go and have a leak in the bathroom, and the cold air slaps you, especially if you sleep in the nude as I’ve done for 30 years. Ok don’t scream, as one, my audience all over the world has screamed. Then when you get back to bed you snuggle up to where the warm spot was. Then after an unknow period of time Magic radio plays the one song that you detest so you have to get up.

Getting up just has to happen as I need to take my medicine religiously, or my heart would be all tick and no tock, revving like Hamilton in his car. So I have to put a dressing gown on as I head for the kitchen. It’s a ritual, dissolve the aspirin first while the bread is toasting then the kettle is boiling. Aspirin is taken then it’s followed by the first toast, then the rest of the meds, then the 2^nd toast, and finally my 1^st coffee of the day.

I did give  up coffee after 50 years, but after 2 years I decided that Quality of Life is Always More Important. So I returned to instant coffee, though less mugs.  

Breakfast done, I think the house cold, I’ll go back upstairs and hide under the duvet, I have my music on an old phone my daughter abandoned, so I can listen to that. But now I’m more awake than before so I cannot settle, the music is too aloud. So I switch off the music and fall asleep, a deep sleep which is only ended when the neighbour’s builder starts demolishing something, it sounds like incoming artillery.

You cannot decide whether to get up or not, you want to stay in bed and you don’t want to stay in bed, it’s a puzzle you cannot solve, you are a living Rubic’s cube, all different combinations and colours and moods as you move about in bed. If you were in bed with that Russian girl playing chess, now that would be different…

Still Pain Day

well I got up because of the pain, hopefully in the morning it will be gone and i may write something new.

Yes there are millions in greater pain than me, but its not a competition with medals being handed out.

Have a great Chinese New Year everybody

Family Things or Life in Our House

Family Things or Life in Our House©

By Michael Casey

Totoro don’t do that, you are such a naughty cat, ok I’ll let you out again, but don’t go looking though our neighbour’s window, you are making her think you are her stalker. She always closes her curtains when you stare at her from your perch on the fence.

Small daughter is that a good place to leave your shoes, I nearly fell over them, are you trying to kill me? I’m half dead already, see my silver hair I’m only 22 you know. You are such a liar dad, how can you be 22 when I’m 13, that would mean you had me when you were 9, that’s disgusting. Ok I was just saying how old I look, not my real age. They’d have to carbon 14 date you to find your real age, but you do look younger because you are fat, and have no wrinkles, because you are fat, but you do have hair like an old grannie, like grandma Casey in the photo.

Children are so honest and so exact, does anybody want to adopt mine? Big daughter can you remove that phone from your ear I have something important to tell you. What daddy are you increasing my pocket money? No, I just want to remind you that tonight you have to put the bins outs, and I’d do it myself but my Arthur, my arthritis is playing up. Ok, dad, let me finish talking to Imman, she has this great new nail varnish she is telling me about. Shouldn’t you both be studying ?  Sure dad I know an A- is a fail, as far as you and mum are concerned.

Small child where did you hide the remote control I want to watch Fox News, it’s the best Show in town. Press the Q on the SkyQ dad. Why? Because it will bleep and show you where the remote control is. That’s clever who thought of that? Sky did dad, Sky did dad. Why do you want to watch what’s happening in USA dad? Is it to see all the girl’s legs?

Their skirts are so high, if we wore a skirt like that to school we’d be sent home from school. Or is it the Fox News tv uniform for the women, a brightly colouring skirt as high as their, as their aspirations. Funny child, who am I watching, Shep Smith, I’ve never seen him in a skirt, not unless he wears one in private.

 I’m only teasing you, besides that Nic  Cavuto would never fit in a skirt, do they have Children in Need in USA, they could copy the BBC people and dress up and do a song and dance. Cavuto and Shep Smith could dress up as ballet dancers for a Telethon as they call them over there in La La Land. Didn’t you dress up as a woman once dad? Haven’t you got homework to do, yes dad an A- is fail we know, and we are only ½ Chinese.

Hello mum did you have a good time in the Office. Did you bring us any buns home, you only brought your own buns home. We are being neglected no buns, no snacks no treats. Ok we’ll send dad out into the cold to the corner shop, Neil drives a Rolls Royce because dad spends his life in his shop buying us snacks. The pharmacy man drives a Rolls Royce too because that’s where dad gets all his medicine from.

What time is it? Ok can you all shut up, Totoro and me are going to watch Elementary on Sky, it’s the only way you’ll shut up if I say it’ll hurt Totoro’s feeling if she cannot hear Dr Watson’s Chinese accent. Ok that was good can you all use the bathroom and get out of my way by the time I’ve watched the Press Preview on Sky.

So I watch the Punch and Judy show that is the Press Preview, Andrew from the DM and Kevin from the Mirror really are such fun. Then I head for our bathroom but it is always blocked and jammed, so I have to go outside and pick my spot alongside Totoro and all the neighboring cats. In the dark the neighbour star gazer gets to set the plough and beneath the plough, 3 cats and a dog having a leak joined by a man expelled from a bathroom. Star Gazing is such a wonderful hobby.

House Hunting for Dreams

House Hunting for Dreams ©
By Michael Casey

Looking for a house is like waking up and trying to remember a dream you have just had. You may have a warm feeling and want to go back to sleep and re-enter that dream, or it could have been a nightmare and you struggle to wake up to escape the horrible situation. You will just have to remember the good and the try and forget the bad.

So it is with house hunting, we thought we had struck gold with the very first house we went to look at, only the walls wobbled and the space for the slot in washing machine was too small. It was way overpriced too and finally the price dropped 25% before it was sold. I would not buy it at any price, once viewed it was a nightmare, like the crooked house at a fair.     And no I’m not exaggerating at all, one day if we ever meet in the bar of the Trader in Old Forge and Singing Anvil I’ll spill the beans and not my beer.

So you are very upset when your dreams are shattered by such a shoddy piece of building. So you lick you wounds and go back to www.rightmove.co.uk in search of your ideal property. We did find another one quiet soon and we had got the girls to do a test walk to see how far away it was from their school, and we all seemed to like the house, the size and the layout. Only the owners did not like the size and the layout of our offer.

Then there are nice houses but when you use Google Earth to walk around them you discover that they are really horrible, because a garage or lots of garages are just behind the back of them, or an all-night disco, or the church of the really obnoxious is at the bottom of your garden, or a bingo hall. Or worst of all you discover that your neighbour is Michael Casey.

Some houses are 100K overvalued, you know it, the estate agent knows it, buy the seller is determined to get that 100k because he boasted to his brother that his house was worth it, so he cannot lose face, he hangs out for 100k overvalued, and after 6 months he sells it for its real value. Houses are not antiques that forever go up in value, they have a street value literally. A house will not sell for more than the certain street allows. You can add all manner of ensuites and kitchens you like but in the end the street price rules.

Gardens are important too, you need a space to hang out your knickers after all, and your shirts and towels. If you have a pet, other than goldfish, then you need a bit of space for the dog to run about and a fence for the cat to jump over and pooh in your next-door neighbour’s garden.

Shops are good too, a house needs a good corner shop, I’m lucky I have the Polish shop and Neil and his shop too, but I won’t mention Neil again as all the free publicity might go to his head. When you find your perfect house you have to remember that you will need a pint of milk and a loaf of bread, and if there is no corner shop then you are knackered. So when you look at that dream house remember to walk the area, don’t just drive there and buy it without walking around the place.

Walking around an area gives you a flavour of an area, is it in a high crime area, do prostitutes come up to you, or are you offered blow in the streets, or is there the constant sound of burglar alarms going off. Or are there people with clip boards forever stopping you in then street. You might also get an avalanche of junk mail through the letter box.

In a way the right house is the one you can afford, that isn’t next to nosy neighbours who’ll pop around for tea all the time, and only stop when you throw a bucket of water over them from an upstairs window. It’s like the feeling you get when you’ve had a good pray, or 17 pints of Stella Artois and a packet of cheese and onion crisps if the bar is your church. So all I’ll say is keep on praying, hic.