All is Revealed

had a quiet day watched a couple of films, inc Dr Strange 6/10 so have not written anything new for you. so here's something from last year

All is Revealed ©

By Michael Casey

I only just noticed that the truck parked outside has gone, I didn’t spot it straight away as I was both deep in thought and pain a few hours ago. Now that that the pain has gone along with the feminine hygiene truck, our neighbour empties those bins in the ladies’ toilets, I can see daylight. I’m happy now and I can hear the washing machine behind me spin around quietly, we bought a big Indesit and it is ever so quiet, and the two bells on Totoro’s collar are ringing as she has her dinner. 

As all was revealed, or rather the street in front of me It gave me an idea of what to talk about, yes my writing really is as tangential as that. I’ve spotted Pakistan reading my stuff on my website so hello to them and India too. Poland still is in love with my writing not unless its Donald Tusk and his minions trying to cheer themselves up today, Brexit Day.

With Brexit all is finally revealed, it basically was a  method of uniting the Tory party by allowing a vote, only Cameron got the shock of his life, and as he quoted Enoch Powell, All Political Lives End in Failure. Now we have a great big adventure. I’ll leave that there for you all to argue about amongst yourselves.

Ages ago I wrote a piece called Wrapping Paper so I don’t want to repeat myself too much, though you may say I do that all the time if you are cruel. Perhaps some things read better in another language, as the French may boast, so that could explain why Poland loves my stuff. Today though I want to think about and talk about Revealing, and what a difference timing makes to Revealing. 

Girls wear less and less, certainly on reality tv shows, and sometimes the largest thing they wear is their sun tan. Everybody sleeps in the nude too, well I do anyway, ok stop be sick in a bucket, take that idea out of your head, then I’ll carry on.  Though Julie Dangly whom I used to work with 25 years ago would say you have to wear a negligee then you have something to take off to get your boyfriend or husband even more excited, but I digress.

When you negotiate, with your kids, which you have as a result of wearing a negligee, so you should wear a diving suit to bed, or massive PJs if you want to avoid kids, when you negotiate, you start high and end low. You say they have to do 7 chores knowing they won’t, but they may do 6 or 5 or 4 or 3 or 2 or 1. And sometimes 1 is a major victory. Politics or Brexit is about aiming for the Sun when getting the Moon is what you really wanted as your least worst option, just watch out for the cow jumping over the moon, and as for the cat and the fiddle they are a metaphor for those nasty neighbours who shall remain nameless.

Now where was I, I just had to put the washing out, it bleeped so I had to hang out our stuff. I could lose my thread but instead it takes this piece into another direction. Washing, why are we embarrassed by our smalls, it’s a fine day so the washing goes out but we don’t want the neighbours to see the state of our pants, our knickers, our panties or our long johns. 

Obviously I have to padlock my pants to the washing line or they might be stolen, and if you believe that then you believe in fairies, and if you have seen Peter Pan, I do, I do, I do believe in fairies I do I do. If you didn’t join in the chorus just then you are and old fart who wears old women’s drawers. Is that enough emotional blackmail? 

I could go on but my daughter has just got home so these words will have to be enough. I have though revealed something else, talking to her is more important than talking to you. So today promise yourself that you’ll talk to your kids more, and not just when you shout at them to hang the washing out on the bushes or the tv aerials. Because the way your kids are when they are with you reveals all about, YOU and them, Love shines but fears wilts their spirits. Reveal what kind of mum or dad you really want to be, then blame it all on me. 

Waiting for a Viewer

Waiting for a Viewer ©

By Michael Casey

Well I’m waiting for a viewer, for somebody to take a look at our house. Ironically enough my wife is looking at someplace else, then she’s going shopping, so I have to crack the whip for the final tidy up of the house. You know a bit of light dusting, starting with dusting down the vacuum cleaner then giving it a spin. I don’t do any of this, I just head for the shower and have a SSS, otherwise I’d look like Steptoe the rag and bone man from tv when our viewer arrives. I look 10 years younger and smell far fresher when I emerge from our bathroom, I just hope I haven’t left too much mess for the viewer to view.

My youngest daughter who has pretentions of being the next Martha Stewart but without the jail sentence, has arranged the teddy bears on the chairs. Instead I just open up our neglected piano and put the teddy on top, with my surgical stocking covering its head and its arm in a sling, like some relative of Puddys Bear from Children in Need. Then I place the oversize puppy slippers with ears on the floor by the piano peddles. Yes this is what uyou get when you come visiting our house. My small daughter says its pretentious, I agree but say it’s time to sell and move on. I have eye on 2 properties that we could just, and I mean just afford if we got full price for my house.

So the washing up is done, the girls private litter bin is emptied as well as the kitchen bin. I would bake bread and have fresh ground coffee too, only THAT would really be too pretentious by half. What you see is what you get, and it’s a nice family home, though for us now we want something bigger and hopefully with 2 toilets or even 2 bathrooms. I did have to spray some Deep Heat pain reliever but I opened my bedroom window so hopefully that’ll go away as he’s due in under an hour. Even if he does not buy our house, at least it’s tidy for a day. 

£700 a month is the rental value if you are wondering, if only I could charge that for each story I write. If you are reading this Mr Murdoch, 10million, a house, a car for the wife and a puppy dog for me is my price, for all of my stories so far, 14 books worth. Well you have to be cheeky, you never know who is reading this. Maybe world leaders meet to talk about Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham. Though North Korea may just want to kill me first, is Birmingham on the target list now? I’d rather make love to all the North Korean army girls instead of being a target, or would that be classed as a fantasy? I don’t know.

So now the wife has returned its back to life, back to reality, wasn’t that a song years ago? She’s dumped the shopping and is getting the car hand washed down the road. Meanwhile my girls are going to disappear to the woods while I do the show around of the house. Its less cluttered with people when our viewer arrives in 35 mins, I’ve just looked up at the clock. Our washing machine has just bleeped too, so do I hang out the wash to show just how big the garden is for drying all the washing. Or do I wait till post viewing? These are the mighty decisions I have to make, I’ve had a painkiller or two so I’m ok now as well, chest pain is no fun.

So I’ll pause as my stomach needs feeding, 640words or so while I grab a sandwich and try not to leave crumbs to impress our viewer. Though the mountains of Whiskas for the cat, and 120 rolls of toilet paper thanks to Groupon may detract from our house. But what am I to do make them invisible like the dragon in Pete’s Dragon? In the end people decide in 15 minutes if they like a house and then they spend 25 years paying for it.

Well I’ve had a ham sandwich and a salmon one too with pita bread wrap and Branston small pickle topping, so I’m all set up now. I’m having my 3^rd coffee of the day, just Kenco instant, I limit myself to 4 a day. So all I have to do is put on some music for my viewer. No need to argue by the Cranberries springs to mind, what do you think? Well that’s my choice to play in the background as I dust off my best Concierge smile, I’ll stop now as its 5 mins before show time.

Well the viewers came, so I showed them around, a very nice young family. Will they like my house enough to buy it? Are my show around skills any good? Who knows but I wish them luck in their house hunting, hopefully they have finished, as have I.

All Wired UP

 I think the servers or the security of google blogger must have been in action a couple of hours ago as all my stuff disappeared now  its back but look at the other site to see 286 blogs.

NOT UNLESS Trump was filling his Kindle so he'd have something to read while he goes on his Eastern trip.

 https://michaelcaseyfrombirminghamengland.blogspot.co.uk/ to read 286 blogs but readly go buy the books on Amazon as I'd like to finally move house before I die

now read on

Wednesday, 5 August 2015

All Wired Up

All Wired Up ©

By Michael Casey

I was all wired up for a day, no nothing to do with 50 Shades of Michael or any other colour, I mean wired up for an ambulatory cardiac monitor. Its 6 months since I had my unplanned triple bypass, and it turns out that it was 4 grafts, so it was an unplanned quadruple. Anyway thanks to City and QE hospitals here in Birmingham. Now what does ambulatory mean you are all asking. I remember 1^st year Latin, ambulo, ambulas, ambulat  and we all know the word ambulance, so ambulatory means walking.

So you go to the hospital and a nurse shaves your chest, it seems every nurse wants to shave my chest. Then they attach 3  jump leads, they are not jump leads, but they do look like them, they are sensors. You are have a little machine with it, as big as an alarm clock, you put that in your pocket and then you go home. They also give you a piece of paper so you can write a  diary of your activities.

I was tempted to write rock climbing, and base jumping, followed by horse riding and marathon running. It would make it more interesting for consultant when he views the results. Michael Casey must be an Olympic athlete he would say. When I worked at CPNEC ten years ago we had an Olympic athlete staying, so every time we had a guest enter the gym I’d say as used by Olympic athletes.

Instead on the diary you write, having a pooh ten mins of training or straining, but that’s Olympic athletes again. You write went  to the corner shop, 10 mins.  Went to Aldi half an hour.Reading 2 hours, I do read a lot on the computer, Daily Telegraph and a smattering of Daily Mail and the Daily Express, and a look at the Sun and the Mirror, even the Guardian too. If any of these people have a corner on their websites I’d be more than happy to fill it. Though the editors might say I’d be like a cat, leaving mess in the corner. People can be so cruel, until you are popular and then they wish they’d stroked that cat and have it purr for them.

Being all wired up is no problem at all, that is until it’s time to go to bed. I sleep in the nude, ever since I left home many years ago. Pause, take a deep breath and have a stiff drink if the thought offends you. So where do I put the electronic box of tricks, I need something with a pocket and I want keep the wires under control. So the answer is to wear pyjamas in bed. My sister bought me some 6 months ago when I was in hospital, they are nearly worn out in the ar(***    as I toss and turn in my sleep.

My bedroom is like an oven as the way our central heating works the radiator in the room always gets some heat even if you are only heating hot water. Being South Facing adds to the heat, so if you are then wearing pyjamas and you are a nudist like me it all feels like a sauna. In a sauna I’d be naked, but as I’m wearing a cardiac monitor I’m just a pig sweating. A good looking pig, but a pig none the less. Ok, you can decide for yourselves what I look like, metaphor away, be my guest.

So the night passes and I awake every 2 hours. I used to sleep on my belly and then move about like a chicken on a rotisserie, but as I have a 12 inch scar on my belly from my heart operation I cannot sleep in my preferred position. I tend to sleep on my right side, they say sleep on your back but I’ve never been good in that position.

I got up for a drink and I wondered should I write that down in the diary, does your heart beat change when you go downstairs to the fridge and  back upstairs again? I didn’t put that down, maybe I should have. I did have a few minor twinges so I put them down. Sometimes I scream in the night but that’s from my scars on my legs where veins were harvested. Or if I’m stupid and brush the sheet again my left chest, then I scream and the neighbours can hear it. Mind you they may think it’s the local Sadomasochism Club. Though sometimes I have had a day of pain, or several days of pain, it’s the chest healing where it was cut in half.

In the morning it’s time to remove the sensors which are stuck to my chest, remember just how sensitive it is. Gingerly I remove them, and then I write down the time I got out of bed and removed them. Now I can have a wash, did I tell you, you cannot wash for 24 hours. So you have a 2 day shower before breakfast and going back to the hospital and handing in the cardiac monitor.

The moral of the story, eat your greens and have a balanced diet. I was walking 20 miles a week before this suddenly can upon me. I am now walking 10 to 15 miles a week. I have given up meat and frozen food since I came out of hospital in January 2015. I live on chicken and salmon and eggs, I have lost maybe 10kilos.I never smoked in my life and was almost teetotal, all our lodgers were alcoholics, hence alcohol never interested me. However you can still get coronary heart disease through other factors.

I have extra time now, so I don’t want to waste it, so if any opportunities come along I will grab them, but being able to see my daughters grow up IS the greatest gift. The gift of life itself.

 

 

 Trump is 11 years older than me by the way.

go back and read my old stuff 2 years worth follow link

https://michaelcaseyfrombirminghamengland.blogspot.co.uk/

IF YOU WANT TO READ 286 OF MY OLD PIECES OF WRITING OVER THE WEEKEND

I JUST HAD TROUBLE GETTING INTO THIS ACCOUNT JUST OLD STUFF FROM 2 YEARS AGO AVAILABLE.

AS IF I HAD DIED INSTEAD OF CARRYING ON TO ANNOY YOU ALL

SO GO AND READ THE OTHER STUFF NOW BEFORE I DO DIE.

HOPEFULLY NOT FOR A FEW YEARS YET.

https://michaelcaseyfrombirminghamengland.blogspot.co.uk/

Comfy Chair

Comfy Chair ©

By Michael Casey

I got a new chair the other day, from Groupon, I had tried them for toilet paper as you know, so I thought I’d then try them for the same part of my anatomy, so I got a chair from Groupon. I was sitting in it tonight watching Pete’s Dragon and letting a tear loose. Yes I can cry easily, and yes my film tastes are very catholic, yesterday it was American Ultra which was very violent with blood and gore but a good film to watch. As you know earlier in the day I wrote about All Souls Day, today, so I suppose the reservoir of love about family and hope swelled and dripped from my eyes when I watched Pete’s Dragon. Or maybe I’m just a big baby.

My new chair from Groupon is chunky and big enough for my fat backside, and as I watched Pete’s Dragon I had a memory, when I went to the cinema in Killorglin in 1977 or 1978 around Christmas time and you had to pay extra for the jumbo seats which were more comfy.  The new chair reminded me of that, memories of County Kerry swelling up in me because my fat backside was reminded of a sweet memory from 40 years ago. I’m struggling to remember the film I saw it may have been a Star Wars one. It goes to show comfort is everything.

The Gaumont Cinema Birmingham had really comfy seats too and I remember seeing a Star Wars film there, as well as an Alien film on my birthday, I seem to remember going with my brother. The screen was a wrap-around one which was the biggest in Europe.  Remember this was before multiplexes were even thought of. If you the fast forward decades later it was demolished and an X or W shaped building was built by the Weslian insurance who owned the land. Originally they had a little building right next to the cinema. In that building they had half and the other half was occupied by Pinsent Masons Law firm. Pinsents is obviously the best Law  firm, and I’m not saying that because they employed me for 3 years.

So as I sit on my new chair all these memories coming back and I’m sharing them with you.  A chair is a functional thing but it does bring happiness and rest. My dad would sit in his armchair once he came home from Hell, by which I mean 10 hours and more at a steel works, The District Iron and Steel in Brasshouse  Lane in Smethwick, it was sometimes known as Brockhouse. My dad really was a blacksmith  in Kerry and then sweated for 40 years in a steelworks in England. I’m not  just lying to you,  as a  good writer does for a living, my dad really was a blacksmith, and yes I am a Wordsmith.

My mother had a favourite chair it was an old barn chair, so when the back broke we sawed off the back and she continued to use it. It was good to sit at while she peeled the potatoes into the sink. Or to sit in the yard with when we got a sunny day. Dad invested in a cheap tubular steel folding lounger. I can remember Coffee our red setter like dog licking his toes as the sun shone. As for the wooden chair mum used it to stand on and wash the outside windows. When I moved house over 30 years ago I stole that chair, and my mum nagged me for years to bring it back. Its upstairs right now in the box room, in fact it could be 60 years old.

So you can see just how important a humble chair can be. I always wanted a rocking chair and when I set up home I got my heart’s desire. In fact it was a very nice armchair on rockers. I got a suite from Lewis’s in Birmingham, which is now a Court Building, for 1000 pounds, which was a lot of money over 30 years ago. A 3, 2,1 plus a rocker suite in the sale, I can remember dashing to the bank to get the money, or rather the deposit, 10 payments of 100 over 10 months. Then I broke a tooth as we ate our dinner, it was over the August Bank Holiday, and my aunty Hanna used to work in Lewis’s too.

Now a rocker is fun and you enjoy the rhythm, and rhythm is a good thing in music and sex. My daughter may or may not have been conceived years later in that rocking chair. Try it for yourself, rocking chairs are great, though I don’t know if Groupon has any at the moment. Once the children are born you watch as your child is held at the nipple and is fed by your wife. Now you are a family. Though a boyfriend at the nipple can also lead to a baby at the nipple, it depends how much rocking you do in your rocking chair, no matter where you buy it.

Children grow and they steal your rocking chair, so you have to share it, and finally you are ejected from your own chair. Meanwhile your wife just laughs at you, a rocking chair is now a form of contraception, because you won’t catch her in the rocker because the children are using it as a toy, and no longer will the rocker be your joy.

Old age comes along, or infirmity as it seems to be, so you just gently rock in your chair, with just your carer there. You are old and fat with no hair, so the carer puts you to bed. Then her boyfriend sneaks in and they rediscover  the uses of an old and battered  rocking armchair. And in 9 months’ time the boyfriend won’t have her nipples but their new born will, she mixed up your heart pills with her contraceptive pills. So at least you weren’t a pregnant man at 80, but she had the heart to take all the rocking in the rocking chair.

So goodnight to you all reading this, enjoy your Bliss, in a bed, in a car, in field or in a rocking chair, just be happy before the nappy.

p.s. today is the feast of saint martin de porres 3rd Nov

a neighbour longed for a daughter after having 3 sons, my mum said pray to saint Martin, the neighbour had a daughter, she is called Martina

All Souls Say 2nd November

All Souls Day 2^nd November ©

By Michael Casey

Well my back is on the mend so I’ve got a new story for you. As its 2^nd Nov 2017 and its All Souls Day I thought I’d write about that. We have 3 Saints’ Days back to back.  Halloween, which is all Hallowed Eve, All Saints Day, All Souls day and then Saint Martin De Porres follows on 3^rd Nov. Yes I have a Religious calendar on the wall, because I get it free, though I am in much need of prayer what with all my aliments. Now shall I cut to the chase?

November is the month we remember the death, we even have a box on the altar where people slip in a list of their dead, so that we can remember them, yes  almost like a suggestion box for God. In the old days the priest would dress in black and say masses for the dead. All very traditional, and if I have any Jewish or Muslim readers I’m sure you all have your own traditions, equally worthy. The thing about funerals  is that it really is the BEST Mass, the story of Lazarus being already dead and smelly, and Jesus Wept too, such was his love of his friend. Then there is the ceremony, the waving of the metal orb full of incense, the showering of holy water, lots of carrying of candles, and then the final walk to the bottom of the church led by an altar boy, me, carrying a crucifix on a pole.   

As it is also a full Mass you still get holy communion so people have to squeeze past the coffin on their way up. Then you see people touch or even kiss the coffin. I have served lots of funeral masses and attended a few as a neighbour, so I know it really is the best Mass. I have even attended a funeral where there were only 5 or 6 mourners. My mother’s funeral had a full church to bursting and five priests on the altar. She was sometimes the sole mourner for an unloved soul. She would go to the graveyard just so somebody would be there, at the request of the Cannon. The corpse may have not been buried for six months then finally a simple funeral, but my mum was there for that lost soul. Then afterwards the undertaker would give her a lift home in the jump seat of the hearse. So you can see where the undertaker comes from in my novel The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker.

So why should we remember the dead, our dead, our loved ones? Because if we don’t then we are just machines, we are stones without souls. In November we remember the dead, because their Love carries on within us. You think of Tom who always bought you a pint when you were broke, of your CEO who said one day you’ll be the boss, and now you are, because he encouraged you, and badgered you till you shone like a diamond he knew you could be. You think of Mary your first love who died so tragically saving  your life instead of becoming your wife. You remember  Roger your Polish friend in Chicago whose name you could not pronounce, so he was Roger, he always smiled and encouraged you with your MIT idea. So you became a millionaire and he was head of security at your plant, you were friends for decades, and still you couldn’t pronounce his name.

By remembering the laughter , the fun and games goes on, you may even use a name as a password, RogDERSVaaapo49342, because it reminds you of a fallen buddy. Every time you log in it’s a prayer, just as you always buy an extra pint in the bar for Roger, then you give it to the old man in the corner. We remember because it is our link to the past, to those we love. So this All Souls Day, go to that bar in Chicago with your new Polish friend from Groupon and buy an extra  drink and  give it to that fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham. And if he’s not there, then give it to your CEO, and say cheers to all our pasts, and hello to all our futures.