Busy Painting Bathroom so please read this while I decorate hope I don't over do it with my heart

AS I'm painting the bathroom I've not had any time to write anything new, so here's an old true story
have to be careful with my heart...

                    Michael's  Bathroom   ©

                      

                                by

                          Michael  Casey

         Six months previously Michael had decorated his living room,  he

had to, the white walls had turned to a nicoteen stained yellow in places

such  was the downside of having a South facing living room.  Now it  was

 

the turn of the bathroom again.  The bathroom was very small,  not  even

 

enough room to swing a cat,  it was about 7 foot by six foot,  which was

 

just big enough for the bath,  the sink and the bog. Why did people want

 

big bathrooms anyway? You weren't going to hold dinner parties in there,

 

or  go  jogging,  yes Michael was used to and by now satisfied  with  his

 

small  bathroom.  However it always seemed to need decorating,  he  just

 

needed to open the window more often and let the steam out.  Michael just

 

loved to wallow in the bath like a Hippopotamous,  he had a radio on  the

 

windowsill  so he could listen to Heart FM while he shaved and bathed  and

 

watched  the spiders.  There were spiders galore in his  bathroom,  his

 

mother  always said spiders brought money with them,  perhaps  snared  in

 

their webs,  Michael even looked under the bath behind the panel just  in

 

case  the spiders had indeed brought gold with them,  sadly all he  found

 

was yet more spiders and their webs.

        Years ago at work the offices were tarted up,  so new carpet  was

 

laid  in  the reception,  so Michael had begged for the off  cuts,  and

 

persuaded Paul Robinson to give him a lift home with it. Once home though

 

it was late Michael got out some very sharp scissors and laid the carpet in

 

the bathroom, he'd have a posh bathroom now, no more cold lino for him.

Actually  he did make a good job of the carpet fitting,  there  was  some

 

left over too. Now the bad thing about ordinary carpet in the bathroom is

 

that it gets manky,  firstly because Michael splashed a lot in the bath,

 

his mother had always told him off for splashing in the bath since he  was

 

a child,  she was afraid the water would leak though the ceiling into the

 

living  room below.  He did not have that problem now in his own house,

 

why, because he had a concrete floor. So the carpet got wet, due to the

 

splashing in the bath. Michael was also a bad shot, so he'd occasionally

 

piss  on  the floor,  when he came rushing home dying for  a  piss  after

 

having too many shandies.  Also if you spill domestos or other bleach  on

 

carpet it changes colour.

         As for the ceiling and walls,  they needed cleaning and painting

 

every  now and then because of all the steam and Michael not  opening  the

 

window  often  enough.  So Michael would go up the road to Fads  and  buy

 

five litres of white emulsion for a fiver, then scattering newspapers all

 

over the bathroom he'd attack the walls and ceiling. He soon got high and

 

had  a headache with all the paint fumes,  even though the window  was

 

wide  open,  the  radio  was blairing too,  he  always  had  music  on

 

constantly,  whether he was painting,  eating, washing shaving  or just

 

picking his nose. Michael's painting had more attack than finesse to it,

 

splash it here, splash it there, quantity more than quality, his father

 

had always told him to use a small amount on the brush,  a tiny amount,

 

but Michael always overloaded his brush,  paint was cheap after all,  a

 

tin  of paint only cost the price of a couple of pints and a bag of  chips

 

after all.     

 

         Once finished Michael was splattered in paint, his grey hair now

 

turned white,  his painting clothes,  now more paint than clothes,  his

 

watch  had a white thumb print on it,  his underpants had paint on too,

 

for  no  matter  what  he  did  he  was  always  hitching  his  jeans  and

 

consequently he had paint everywhere.  Michael stepped back to admire his

handiwork,  but being as the bathroom was so small he bumped into the bog

 

and ending up sitting on it.”It'll do” was his usual comment,  and it

 

would  have too,  he couldn't afford a real decorator.A fiver to do  his

 

bathroom,  but a decorator would charge 100 times that and take days, it

 

took Michael an hour and a half tops,  he'd finish in time for Star  Trek

 

and that was important,  he had his priorities right.  So looking at his

 

splattered  watch,  Michael gathered up the paint  splattered  newspaper

 

which was protecting his fancy carpet.  The only trouble though was  the

 

fact that his shoes were stuck to the newspapers,  so Michael had to  sit

 

on the bog and pull the newpaper off his shoes,  invariably a spot or two

 

of  paint  stayed on the carpet.  So Michael had rub hard  to  clean  the

 

carpet,  and  take his shoes off so that he  wouldn't  leave  footprints

 

everywhere.”Ah it'll do,” repeated Michael as he looked back at  the

 

bathroom from the safety of the kitchen,  he'd then strip off and put all

 

his  painting clothes into the washing machine, invariably the light  was

 

fading now, so Michael had the kitchen light on, so his neighbours would

 

be  treated to the dubious  privilege of seeing Michael naked  and  paint

 

spattered standing in his kitchen.

          Star  Trek  was great as usual,  Michael  only  recognised  the

 

metaphors  after the show,  but he really enjoyed the show,  he'd  been

 

watching it for 30 years now, the original and then the follow on shows.

After  his  dinner Michael ventured back into the bathroom,”Who  needs

 

decorators,  the  theiving bastards".  Michael was satisfied  with  his

 

handiwork,  it'd do till the next time.  The next time came,  when  the

 

carpet was manky,  so Michael threw out the carpet and searched under the

 

bed in the spare room,  that’s where he kept the rest of the carpet.  As

 

luck  would  have  it there was just enough to cover  the  bathroom  floor

 

again.So once more he got out the dangerous sissors and cut the carpet  to

 

shape,  and yes he did do a good job of it, carpet fitting he could do,

 

it was painting he was useless at. Jackson Pollark, the artist who threw

 

paint  at  the canvas would have been impressed by  Michael's  bathroom,

 

anybody else would have said,”was there an explosion?"

        So time passed and the carpet was manky, so Michael threw it out,

so what would he do next?  He hit upon the brilliant idea of painting the

 

concrete floor.  It only took half an hour and then”hey presto" he had a

 

redecorated bathroom,  only he hadn't thought of one thing. What happens

 

when you paint a floor white? It shows all the dirt, and it shows up all

 

the spiders that are not spiders,  if you know what I mean.  So  Michael

 

improvised,  he was good at improvising, 20 years as a computer operator

 

and he'd leant to improvise,  if nothing else.  So he painted the  floor

 

blue,  that colour wouldn't show up spiders that weren't spiders. And he

 

was  right.  He had another problem now,  because  he'd  used  ordinary

 

emulsion,  when it got wet, it came off, so soon the soles of Michael's

 

slippers  went  blue,  and soon the blue was spattered with  white,  as

 

toothpaste and soap suds stained the blue floor. Michael persevered, he

 

painted the floor blue every couple of weeks or so,  blue paint was  more

 

expensive than white,  but the one tin enabled him paint it ten times or

 

so.Eventually the walls needed painting again,  so Michael thought  he'd

 

try blue on the walls,  only it was too dark,  he didn't like it,  and

 

more to the point he ran out of paint halfway through.  So he went up  to

 

Fads again for white,  though he was nearly tempted  into buying a  soft

 

coloured paint as it was half price, but after a bit of soul searching he

 

stuck with white, five litres for a fiver.

         Another  problem reared its head,  if you try  painting  over  a

 

strong colour, the colour underneath shows through. So on Boxing Day 98

Michael spent the day painting, or smearing as his mother used to call it

 

,  he spent the day smearing two coats of white over the blue. And yes it

 

did look dreadful.  New Years Eve came and Michael's bathroom was covered

 

in copies of the Telegraph,  it was a good read with great coverage, why

 

just one copy was enough to cover all Michael's floor, he'd have to write

 

to  the editor to thank him.  So Michael got drunk on New Year's Eve  and

 

ended  up dancing with his friend Dave,  Dave being a Helmult  Khol  look

 

alike.  Once home with a hangover,  Michael realised that in the morning

 

he'd have to give another coat or two to the bathroom.  Michael could see

 

the  light  at the end of the tunnel,  or rather the bottom of  the  five

 

litre tin of paint,  once he finished the tin, the job would be finished

 

whether  it was finished or not,  the job would be finished.  He'd  had

 

enough, and he had a massive headache due to the paint fumes. 

 

       “Finished,  at last,  thank God,” yelled Michael, yes he

 

had come to the bottom of the tin, so finished or not, it was finished.

So Michael went and watched Star Trek on the satellite.  The bathroom took

 

forever to dry as it was Winter and the atmosphere was cold and wet.  So

 

it  was  a  couple  of  days before  Michael  could  finish  the  bathroom

 

transformation.  He found some old curtains he had in his pantry, he had

 

originally  bought them for the kitchen,  but once he got them  home  and

 

tried  hanging them he was annoyed to discover they were too  short,  so

 

they  had  ended up in his pantry on a shelf next to his  iron.  To  his

 

delight the new curtains were just the right length for his bathroom, and

 

they were nice and bright too.  So what to dod next?  Michael pulled the

 

panel out from in front of the bath, as luck would have it he had a spare

 

plastic shower curtain ; so he wrapped the panel in a new shower curtain,

 

a  flowery pattern on it,  and it would match the shower curtain he  had

 

already up. Finally as he had to lay the lino, the lino he swopped a new

 

pair of shoes for. His brother had some spare lino, and Michael as usual

 

had  a  spare  pair of shoes in his shoe mountain at  the  bottom  of  his

 

wardrobe.  So he got the lino,  and his brother got the shoes as a  Xmas

 

present,  they  had both laughed as they struck the  deal  during  their

 

regular  weekly   telephone conversation.  Their dead mother  would  have

 

approved too,”look after each other" was her motto. There was one snag

 

though, Michael couldn't find his sissors, so how could he cut the lino?

So  he improvised with the bread knife,  a flash of the knife  here,  a

 

flash of the knife there, it was hard work, he was soon covered in sweat

 

but after 45 minutes he was finished.  So he just had to slip the freshly

 

covered  bath panel back in position.  So kicking it back in  position,

 

Michael  had finally transformed his bathroom.  Michael stepped  back  to

 

admire his handiwork, accidently knocking the bread knife down the toilet

 

but  he didn't hear the splash,  as the radio was blaring out a Nat  King

 

Cole  song”Let there be Love".  Michael looked at his  freshly  painted

 

bathroom,  walls and ceiling had been painted,  new bright curtains were

 

hanging  down,  and the lino was new and bright too,  he had even put  a

 

layer of plastic and newspapers underneath to act as insulation,  and  he

 

had a little mat too that he could step on when he got out the bath.  Yes

 

it  was an utter transformation,  the best it had looked in the 12  years

 

he'd  lived there.  All this activity had made him really hungry,  he'd

 

bought a loaf from the bakery,  an old fashioned big tasty loaf,  all he

 

had  to do was cut it into big slices,  now where had he left  the  bread

 

knife?

                               End 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Love of Bread

_{The Love of Bread ©}

_{By Michael Casey}

_{I was wondering what to write about 5 minutes ago as I headed for the kitchen to make some green tea and as I looked around the kitchen my gaze fell on the loaf of bread. So now that I’m sat here sipping my green tea I’ll write about bread, yes that’s how organised I am, I am a Juke Box Writer, by turns this or that, you just have to make your choice or give me a lingering kiss, though that may put me off my theme, and then I write something. That’s why the style and context can be so different, it’s not my “fault” the title decides what you get, it’s whatever you pick from the menu, that is what you get. Though it’s me who is the actual picker.}

_{But I’ll thank you anyway as Bread, the band Bread has come storming into my consciousness, so a very big thank you to Spotify too. I had their album maybe 40 years ago, yes I am that old, though today I look like a convict as my local Pakistani barber cut my hair yesterday, my flowing silver locks have gone and I now look like a criminal. But I’ll be Snow White without the dwarfs in a couple of weeks, my hair grows as fast as Japanese knotweed.}

_{Bread the food bread has a long tradition, if you like your mummy, as in The Mummy, the great film then you may also know if you follow your National Geographic, and I get that magazine delivered as it is so good, you will know they discovered all the ovens used to make the bread to feed all the thousands of workers. If you have such massive construction going on, they had to feed the people too, whether they were slaves or stupid disciples. So I wonder in the future when archaeologists dig at Trump tower will there be a bakery in the very deep basement, or just a casino, we’ll find out in 200 years’ time.}

_{As I talk to you Bread are singing all their hits, thank you Spotify, that’s why we break bread together, because we are happy and at peace with one another. If you are sharing bread then you are acting like a family. And  in the Bible we have Christ breaking the bread, the ultimate expression of sharing and love, which is repeated at Mass or other church services the world over. You don’t eat with your enemies after all.}

_{Now bread is a big deal in many families. I can remember as a child when mum would buy a loaf and we’d all devour the crust but leave the inside alone, discarded. It would look like a piece of clay ready to be moulded, though it could just be left to rot, mouldy old dough literally. In the end mum and dad ate it or it was left to be used to dunk in soup. And yes Heinz Tomato soup is the best, John Kerry didn’t make me say that, though I confess it was me who pushed him of his bike and that’s how he broke his leg, he was trying to steal my baguettes to dunk in his soup. He gets it be the gallon load, a perk from his marriage, that’s why his secret service team all had such juicy orange lips, it was all the tomato soup they ate.}  

_{You have to have different bread for different occasions, for breakfast you have to have croissants, and the little jam and butter with oodles of coffee. My daughters say in Japan of all places you get great bread for breakfast, I know in France and Malta that is true but Japan is new to me, so any Japanese readers get in touch an let me know if this is true or are my girls teasing me.  Foreign bread in hotels really is a treat as is the chance to gorge on as much breakfast as you can fit in, if you are on a tight budget and you have to make every penny count.}

_{But back home baguettes were such a novelty when we first discovered them in the 1960s, maybe when the family went on  Pilgrimage to Lourdes in 1966, we did not like the French food so dad bought bananas and baguettes in the street and we had banana sandwiches for a week. Back  in Birmingham you leave a trail of crumbs everywhere as you share the bread, or steal as much of it as you can.} 

_{As time goes on the bread you eat changes, bread used to be delivered up the entry to the back door, that is one of my earliest memories, then sliced bread from the shop takes over. Then people start eating wholegrain or Hovis as tv instructs us that it’s better for us. Flavour and tastes are so different depending on which bread you chose or are forced to eat. Kids eat what mum buys and there is no discussion, certainly in my generation.}

_{Subway is invented, I can remember when it wasn’t around, and now you have such variety in bread. If you cannot afford Subway and David Gates is singing IF as I speak, then you can cheat, you go to Aldi and pick your favourite bread, brown wholemeal bloomer is ours at the moment, but you may prefer Warburton’s white sliced, that’s great too. Then you walk to the back of Aldi and pick out ham beef salami, not forgetting cherry tomatoes add a sauce or two. Then you add a 2 litre bottle of fizzy pop for 45p.} 

_{Then you go home and make your own Subway, you have enough stuff to feed 4 or more people at half the price. Having written all this down I think I’ll be doing this in the week as it is half term after all, and my big daughter got a new coat, which means she’ll get a DIY Subway and not the real thing.}

_{A meal is not a meal without bread, and it does fill the stomach after all, so always make sure your kids eat bread too, and brown bread does help them pooh. So as the music fades from Bread I think enough’s said, I need to eat now, maybe a bit of toast, and as Heidi said if you toast old bread you can still eat it, otherwise feed it to the birds, and then you can eat them, chicken soup with bread, the cycle is complete.}