Thursday, 28 June 2018

Something to Read I made a mess of the cut and paste

omething to Read
Books by Michael Casey
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Deja Vu

Deja Vu  a 2006 film  with Denzel Washington was on tv tonight.
a detective film with a sci fi  twist.   8/10   so find it and have a look.
Denzel is a class actor a few good twists in  tonight’s film
No new story today, as I was fixing my computer again.
I’d still love to know why I get a cursor moving methodically all over my screen.
Do I have a ghost…
Though if you google earth my house you can see me standing outside, like a ghost
http://www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com  to hear me, its several years since I did the recordings 200 stories and over 11 hours of me on audio. just 50 stories on my site.
Though now I must have approaching 2000 stories
Nice to see you are googling my books, there are 16 now just follow the link
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Ice Cream at my Funeral

Ice Cream at my Funeral ©
By
Michael Casey
Well its hot and my big daughter wanted ice cream so we had some new green ice cream from the local alcohol shop. It did not have alcohol in it and it was not minty either, but we liked it, so we had our share and put it back in our fridge for later. It said the taste of the East so obviously I was attracted to it. As me and my daughter enjoyed it, I thought what can I talk about tonight, then the idea of Ice Cream at my Funeral arrived.
So would you eat ice cream at a funeral. We had a snooker table full of food at my mother’s and then my dad’s funeral, and obviously the bar was open too, we were in the Irish Club over the road from the funeral directors. But would you have ice cream at a funeral. I’ve just decided I want ice cream at mine. Sadly I won’t get to eat any myself, but there should be a party atmosphere, the days of wearing black at funerals are long over. Except celebrity funerals, especially Z list celebrity funerals where everything is exaggerated as much as the Duchess of York’s, that’s Fergie’s, waves to the Queen at Ascot.
Ice cream is from Xmas parties at primary school, I can remember hearing don’t get burnt, yes burnt as they moved a chunk of ice which was being used to keep the ice creams cold at the school Christmas party, this was in 1968 maybe. See my greed has kept that memory alive till this very moment, we were sat in the school hall I remember.
Maybe only Latins would have ice cream at funerals, or drugs cartel funerals. I don’t know, I’ve never been invited to a Latin American drugs cartel funeral. And the only “drugs” I take are medicines my doctors insist I take. Though with my imagination some people think I must be on drugs. Sorry to disappoint you, and please stop sending me adverts for legal cannabis. I’m in UK, not USA. Imagination is all I need and maybe a good supply of ice cold fizzy pop from the shop.
Ice cream does denote celebration or relaxation, and expensive ice cream, not the cheapest of the cheap stuff is so nice. Ask any girl, the quickest way to her heart is Cadbury’s chocolate from here in Birmingham, and ice cream. Give a girl that and she will give you, her attention. Anything else you will have to deserve.
Ice cream is Summer and happiness, even Theresa May is having an ice cream right now, as she contemplates hanging Boris from the flagpole on top of no.10 Downing Street by his naughty bits. Meanwhile she has a 2nd ice cream and gets her security crew to have one too, an ice cream to relax with, even the policeman on the door gets one, with not one but two Cadbury flakes inserted. Forming a 2 fingered salute in the ice cream just in case Boris passes by.
So ice cream is a thing of joy, you cannot be unhappy when the ice cream is dripping down your fingers. Even hardened close protection officers can relax as they have a ice cream. Theresa may have some ice lollies too stuck at the back of the fridge. If you save the sticks from the lollies when you have five of them you can weave together a triangle that you can throw across the garden of number 10 Downing street. How else do you think Theresa May can relax? Yes it’s ice cream and lollies followed by making flying ice lolly stick triangles.
But I digressed, however it proves a point ice cream helps people chill, it relaxes us and brings out the child in us. So when my time arrives head for the ice cream section in Iceland or any posh supermarket, don’t wear black, not unless you are fat or going to a night club later. Then lick your lolly as the priest says the prays and buries me in Trinity Road graveyard Smethwick, next door to the Sikh temple and the postal sorting office, and over the road from what was The District Iron and Steel Brasshouse Lane, Smethwick, where my dad spent 40 happy years sweating. It has rail, canal and road connections, so you can all come and pay a visit when you are looking for work, as it’s opposite the labour exchange too.
Enjoy your ice cream and remember though Life ends in cold, its when we make Life warm and full of laughter that we truly enjoy our lives. So make love and enjoy ice cream simultaneously, then you will enjoy life to the full, but be careful where you drop any ice cream.

Tears for a Butcher

Monday, 25 June 2018

Tears for a Butcher

Yes this was 19years ago. If I did get a speed typist I would dictate the rest of Tears for a Butcher, which is the follow on to The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
as you can see below I was going to call it A Nation of Shopkeepers, that’s how Napoleon belittled England, all look what happened to him. I had a stab attack of pain tonight, where it feels like I’m being stabbed and i SCREAM, that’s why no new story today, it was too hot too.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC
feel free to buy all 16 books, though I know you won’t because internet is free, you have no shame,
I’ll go and cry now.
jul99
A Nation Of Shopkeepers Book Two
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Tears For a Butcher  ©
by
Michael   Casey
Chapter One …Mrs Murphy to the Rescue
ÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿ
The next day found the street nursing a collective hangover , Mrs
Murphy  being  the sole sober person .  It was her soul and  that  of  her

infant  grandchild which concerned her ,  so as usual she had got  up  and

said  her  three rosaries before going to early Mass .  In  the  afternoon

little  Shiela was to be Christened so Mrs Murphy at least was getting  in

the right frame of mind .  Mrs Murphy did stop to light a candle in  front

of Saint Anthony as thanks for help in finding Jaswinda , after all wasn’t

he  the  saint  in charge of lost things and  you  might  call  Jaswinda’s

kidnapping a form of being lost ,  lost from her parents and friends  that

is  .  Fr Shaw had privately offered the Mass up in thanks for  Jaswinda’s

safe return ,  even he had felt humbled by Mrs Murphy’s faith in God .  He

had noticed the lit candle by Saint Anthony’s statue and the nod and smile

Mrs Murphy had given to a poster of Mother Theresa of Calcutta . So united

in prayer the Mass was celebrated .

When the Mass  was over and Fr.  Shaw had taken the vestments off

he walked down the side isle and sat on the bench in front of Mrs Murphy ,

leaning back he spoke to her .
“Well that was quite a night .  I didn’t have as much fun since the  last

ordination I was at ” , he said with a smile .
“It was grand , I’ll agree with you there , BUT you do know that the food

we were “ateing” was for Shiela’s Christening do ” , replied Mrs Murphy as

she heaved her bussom indignantly .
“You don’t begrudge Jaswinda and her family that do you ?” asked Fr. Shaw
trying not to smile .
“I do not  , I enjoyed myself too ! It’s just that Patrick doesn’t seem to

do anything in the right order .  I mean he fathered a child before he got

married  ,  now  he eats the food before the Christening ”  ,  sighed  Mrs

Murphy .
“You don’t mind being a grannie ,  I mean some women feel that they’ve got

one foot in the grave now that they are  grandmothers ” ,  said  Fr.  Shaw

teasingly .
“I do NOT , now that’s the best thing Patrick  ever did , and June is such

a nice girl . It was almost the will of God them meeting  , fancy it being

her  father  who lent us that money all them years ago .  Now we  are  one

happy  family ,  APART from that mother of hers .  I just hope I’m  spared

long   enough to see all my grandchildren grow up ,  I wouldn’t  want  the

“English Grandmother” to influence them too much  ” ,  she rolled her eyes

at the thought .
Fr Shaw smiled broadly and tossed his head back ,  stiffling his

laughter out of respect .  Mrs Murphy smiled too , noticing for the  first

time the small piece of paper stuck to Fr. Shaw’s neck, she’d have a laugh

at him too as well as herself .
“Is  the work getting too much for you Father  ,  not trying to  cut  your

throat are you ” pulling the piece of paper from his throat and holding it

in front of him .
“Get  away out of that ,  besides the Samaritans are ex  directory  around

here” he replied .
“Well I’d better go home for some breakfast ,  I’ll see you this afternoon

with the “Pagan Grandparents” for the Christening ” said Mrs Murphy as she

gathered herself and her handbag up .
“You  could always try converting them ,I mean their daughter is  Catholic

now ” , said a deadpan Fr.Shaw .
“And how do I go about that ” said Mrs Murphy as she put her gloves on .
“Well  we don’t have a statue like we have one of St.Anthony nor a poster

like the one of Mother Theresa ” , Fr.Shaw paused, he could see Mrs Murphy

blush , she was embarrassed by her shows of faith .
“Don’t  you dare tell anybody ” whispered Mrs Murphy as she fidgeted  with

her bag .
“Anyway ” said  Fr.Shaw diplomatically ” haven’t you heard of St.  Jude  ,

she likes a challenge , perhaps the “Pagan Grandparents” would be right up

her street ” a smile on his lips .
“St.Jude would be ringing the Samaritans then ” was Mrs Murphy’s reply as

she  nodded  towards  the altar and headed down the isle and  out  of  the

church .
“Lord grant me faith ” , said Fr.Shaw . Then he smiled, he knew the saints

would soon be bombarded with conversion prayers .
In the afternoon Mrs Murphy ,  Patrick and June and  baby  Shiela

arrived  for  the  christening .  The “English  Grandparents”  were  there

too ,  that’s to say June’s parents Mr and Mrs Kemp . Mrs Kemp was dressed

to  the nines ,  with a big hat on her head and matching long gloves  .Big

Sid  ,  Mark and Gillian ,  Percy and Sgt Mulholland and Mathew were  also

there , along with Amjit , Balbinda and Jaswinder of course .

“The Lord Save Us ,  if it isn’t The Duchess of York Herself”  whispered

Mrs Murphy as she walked up the side isle to the baptismal font . June had

to  look down at the baby and pretend to wipe its nose to save  collapsing

into  giggles  .  Patrick  just bit his lip ,  the  pain  would  stop  him

laughing.
“I’ll  just go and say hello to “Annette” ” ,  said  Mrs  Murphy  before

striding over towards Mrs Kemp .
“She’s up to something ” , whispered Patrick .
“I know , but what ? ” answered June from behind her hand .
After a few moments they found out what .  For Mrs Murphy  returned  all

smiles ,  giving a knowing wink to Patrick and June ,  well that’s how  it

seemed  but in fact the wink was for the baby Jesus in the  Virgin  Mary’s

arms .
“You know you were going to call the baby Shiela ,  then have Annette  as

the middle name ,  after your mother over there ” said a surprizingly  coy

Mrs Murphy .
“Yes , we decided that months ago ,” answered a suspicious June .
“Well  “Annette” agrees with me it would be better if the middle  name  be

different ,  I mean  Shiela Annette Murphy is a grand name , but the child

might  think one grandmother is better than another ,  what with her  name

coming  second  and  that .  Now we don’t want  favouritism  do  we  .  So

“Annette” thought that you could save her name for the next  granddaughter

,  which won’t be long in coming ,  as you are such a loving couple  after

all ” continued Mrs Murphy .
Patrick blushed at this point ,  June just twinkled ,  Mrs Murphy was  a

terror  to  be  sure ,  but it felt alright ,  well as  far  as  June  was

concerned . Mrs Kemp saw Patrick blush and whispered to her husband .
“I bet she’s talking about the next doxen grandchildren ,  and in a church

too  .  Well  at  least one will be called “Annette”  ,  and  NOT  “Shiela

Annette” , she consoled herself with that thought .
“So what will the middle name be then ?” enquired a still red Patrick .
“Jude , of course , ” replied Mrs Murphy .
“Jude , of course , ” echoed June while pulling a face at Patrick .
“But she’s the patron saint of ” started Patrick .
“Hopeless causes ,  ” finished June , who had recently finished a book on

the lives of the saints .
“Well  it nice to see you’re becoming a good Catholic  ,  ”  smiled  Mrs

Murphy beaming with pride .
“Us  converts can teach you old ones a thing or two , ” smiled June .
“But why  Jude , mom ?” asked a puzzled Patrick .
“Well  its  a nice name ,  isn’t it ?  ” she  replied  defensively  before

walking towards Fr. Shaw who had emerged from the presbytery .
“What’s she up to ? ” said Patrick thinking aloud .
“Well  you are a bit of a hopeless cause ,  or so my mother says ”  jested

June .
Fr.  Shaw smiled when he heard what Mrs Murphy had to say ,  looking  over

towards Mr and Mrs Kemp .
“Did  you  see  that ?  Fr.Shaw looked at mom and smiled  ,  and  he  said

something too . It looked like” started already” . ”
“I didn’t know you were a lip reader . I’ll have to watch out when I swear

at you in future ” replied Patrick .
“Well  only  a bit ,  but what has she” started already”  ?  ”  continued  a

an intrigued June .

“We  can  ask her afterwards ,  ” was Patrick’s reply ,  as he  could  see

Fr.Shaw was coughing and opening his prayer book , a sure sign that Shiela

was about to be baptised .
So with family and friends looking on ,  Shiela Jude Murphy  was

baptised ,  Sgt.  Mulholland and Mathew being her Godparents .  Mrs  Kemp

rolled  her  eyes at the sight ,  to her it seemed like two  “King  Kongs”

standing over a small bundle ,  which was baby Shiela .  Mrs Murphy  would

later explain how only Catholics could be Godparents for Catholic babies .
Baby Shiela stayed asleep during the service ,  even when drenched  ,  for

Fr.  Shaw a baptism meant water and lots of it ,  no dabbing for him . Yet

the baby slept through it ,  June had taken a tip from Mrs Murphy , namely

a  thimblefull of Irish Whisky in the baby’s milk half an hour before  the

baptism .

Back at Mark’s cafe  the baby’s health was toasted ,  Mark  and

Gillian  having stayed up late to remake the eaten buffet .  Jaswinda  was

looking at her future playmate , and trying to work out when little Shiela

would be bigger Shiela , or big enough to play at any rate . Outside Amjit

was pacing up and down the pavement in front of the cafe and barking ,  he

wanted to be let inside the cafe .
“What  on  earth’s that savage dog trying to do ?  ” said an  alarmed  Mrs

Kemp.
“He’s  only  saying  congradulations ,  that’s all  ,  ”  said  a  totally

unperturbed Mrs Murphy .  Who then went to the counter to return with  the

scraps .
“Jaswinder  ,  do  you want to feed little Amjit ?  ” asked Mrs  Murphy  ,

holding the plate out so Jaswinder could reach .
“Yes , please , ” Jaswinder replied then with a hop and a skip , her one
pigtail bobbing she dashed out to feed Amjit .
“Is it safe , he might harm her ! ” said an alarmed Mrs Kemp .
“I don’t think so ,” said a smiling Mrs Murphy .

After  an hour of festivities ,  the people  began to disperse ,

Mrs Kemp was about to leave herself ,  when she leaned over conspiratorily

and with a glance at Patrick whispered to Mrs Murphy .
“Shiela , it’s Patrick’s birthday next month and I was thinking of getting

him a nice watch , as I noticed his old one is a bit worn out . ”
“More like ,  knackered , I’m forever telling him to take it off when he’s

humping  big loads of flour and the like ,  but will he listen to me  ?  ”

,replied Mrs Murphy shaking her head .
“Quite ,  but he’s changed since  he’s married  MY June ,  so if I was to

buy him a nice watch then perhaps he’ll take care of it ?  ” said Mrs Kemp

trying not to sound condescending , but failing as usual .
“Oh ,  to be sure , he’s a real man , now that he’s married to YOUR June ,

but  then  isn’t he the image of his father ,  MY dead husband  in  heaven

who’s  no  doubt having a drink with the angels to  celebrate  his  first

grandchild’s baptism into THE CHURCH .  ” ,  smiled back Mrs Murphy as  if

butter would not melt in her mouth , while glancing over with pride at her

own earthly holy family , namely her Patrick and June and baby Shiela .

“Well ,  you do agree with me he needs a new watch ,  I mean we don’t want

to end up buying him the same thing do we ?” ,  said Mrs Kemo  ,  flashing

her best smile .
“Yes ,  you are quite right “Annette” ,  and can you tell me where you got

those luvly false teeth from ? They are grand altogether , or did you just

soak them for a week in Domestos ? ” , replied Mrs Murphy the butter still

not melting in her mouth .
Mr Kemp came to the rescue , and ushered his wife out of the cafe , giving

a wink to Mrs Murphy ,  behind his wife’s back of course ,  he had a sense

of humour after all , but he was not totally stupid  though .

“I just hope  she gets him a stretch strap ,  otherwise he won’t wear  the

thing .  Mind you the watch he’s got now isn’t too bad ,  he’s  superglued

the glass back in , it could last a while longer . ” mumbled Mrs Murphy as

she watched the Pagan Grandparents go .
“What’s  this  about a stretch strap ?  ” asked June as  she  placed  baby

Shiela in grandma Shiela’s arms .
“Annette ,wants to buy your husband a watch for his birthday next month .”
“He  could do with one ,  he told me those Russian one’s seem to last  him

the  longest ,  the sweat gets in the others he’s tried over the  years  .

Besides the one he’s got now has a horrid picure in green of a man playing

a lute , the man looks as if he’s just came out of a concentration camp !”
“I’ve  seen  that ,  it could frighten little Shiela here  when  she  gets

older” , said Mrs Murphy as she stroked the baby’s nose .
“I just hope mom  gets a stretch strap , he hates the others they dig into

your  skin when you work ,  he likes wind up ones too ,  he said he’d  not

have got his present one if he’d realised it was a battery one . ”
“I’m  sure she’ll get a nice one ,  I mean now there’s a real man in  your

family , besides she probably fancies him on the quite . ” said Mrs Murphy

as she played with the baby in her arms .
“You’re an absolute terror , you are ! ” laughed June .
“It might be true ,  I was reading it in the Readers Digest at the surgery

when I was at Dr.  Quaringa’s for my blood pressure tablets . It said that

some mothers – in – laws have a fixation for there son in laws . ”
“Well I’ll have to get my figure back quick , and then start to seduce him

again !” laughed June .
“You’ll soon have a brother for Shiela if you do that ,  but at least with

two children to look after , then Patrick would be too busy to notice your

mother’s overtures .  ” retorted a deadpan Mrs Murphy before looking up at

June and throwing back her head to cackle like a hen .
Patrick  came  over to see what was up .  The two women in his  life  just

looked  at  him and resumed their laughter with fresh vigour  .  Then  his

daughter joined in to .
“The  sooner  I  have a son ,  the better ,  then at  least  I’ll  not  be

surrounded by mad women ” , said a slightly indignant Patrick .
June and Mrs Murphy just looked at each other again and laughed till  they

cried . Patrick was bemused , so he repeated his statement . “The sooner I

have a son the better !  ”  June wiped the tears from her eyes  ,  before

kissing him .  “I’ll only be too happy to oblige ,  if you can wait a  few

weeks ” ,  she replied as she patted her still swollen stomach  .  Patrick

blushed as red as the bottles of ketchup on the tables ,  Mrs Murphy  just

swelled  with  pride  and whispered to the bundle in  her  arms  ”  Little

Timothy won’t be long in coming , a year at the most . ”
Patrick was still blushing as June kissed him again .  Mrs Murphy then got

up  and handed the treasure back to June ,  before snatching a  kiss  from

Patrick and leaving the cafe , she had other matters to attend to …..
Mrs Murphy had walked to the end of the street when , she had to

stop and shake a pebble from her shoes , leaning on a wall as she did so .
When something cold and wet shoved itself into the back of her leg she was

naturally frighten for a second . Spinning around she saw what it was .
“God  blast you ,  the Devil carry you ,  Amjit you hairy thing  will  you

leave me alone . ” She screatched at the innocent dog .
Amjit lowered his head ,  and offered his paw ,  so they could shake hands

and be friends again .  It was then than Mrs Murphy noticed her umbrella ,

hadn’t she left it in the cafe and Amjit had brought it after her .
“Sorry , Amjit , but you did frighten me . Here shake hands . ”
They shook hands ,  then with a woof ,  and what could easily by  mistaken

for  a  smile Amjit was off his tail high and proud .  He  too  had  other

business to attend to , if only he could remember where he had buried that

pig’s head that Big Sid had given him ,  Amjit knew there was another meal

or two left in it , if only he could remember where he’d left it .
“Thank’s again ,  Amjit ” shouted Mrs Murphy after the hairy hound . Amjit

stopped to bark again ,  then with a burst of astonishing speed he was off

,  he’d probably seen the Post Office cat and Amjit wanted to talk to that

moggie .  It started to rain ,  and thanking Amjit with a “Bless Him”  Mrs

Murphy  opened her umbrella .  She had hardly opened it when  old  Michael

pulled up in his taxi .
“Do you want a lift , I’ve earnt my diesel for the day . ”
“Well could you take me to Weatherfield Rd ,the one by the Rover’s  Return

past the old clothing factory ? ”
“Hop in , but why are you going over that way ? ”
“Me  and Mrs Lynch are looking after Mrs Powulska , she’s still weak after

her operation ,  so we take it in turns to keep an eye on her . Her sister

is coming ower from Poland for a month  ,  she will be here in a few  days

so I’ve got to tidy the place up a bit . ”
“I like the Poles they are a great lot ,  I was with a lot of them  fellas

in the war ,  they are sometimes called the Irish of Central Europe , they

have  suffered let me tell you .  ” said Michael as he moved up the  gears

and sped off .
“Yes they did suffer ,  first the Nazis ,  then the Communists , but they

led the way for Europe to be free , and after all isn’t the Pope himself a

Pole ,  so you cann’t beat that .  ” said Mrs Murphy her voice showing her

passion .
As  Mrs  Murphy left the taxi ,  Michael who’d  just  had  10

minutes on the persecution of the Catholic church in Poland was numbed  by

the outpouring .  “Is it really true , they built a church themselves cos

the government built the town without one .  And that in Albania they shot

a priest dead for babtising a baby ? ”

“Yes ” was Mrs Murphy’s simple reply though her eyes betrayed her  anger

and passion .
“The Bastards , I fought a war for them , what are they afraid of ! ”
“The Baby Jesus ” mumbled Mrs Murphy as she walked away .
“Let  me know when your Polish friend arrives ,  I’ll drive you  to  the

airport  ”  shouted  Michael  after  Mrs  Murphy  .   She  just  waved  in

acknowledgement , her mind was elsewhere .
Mrs Murphy did the vacuuming ,  and dusting for 2 hours before

stopping  to make cup of tea for herself and a hot meal for Mrs Powulska  .

She proped Mrs Powulska up in bed , before putting a tray down in front of

her , she watched as a still weak Mrs Powulska ate .
“So which part of Poland , does your sister come from ? ” asked Mrs Murphy

as she sipped her tea .
“Oh the south , a little place , a university place , its called Cracou ”
Mrs Murphy’s cup clattered against the saucer ,  she put her tea down  for

fear of dropping it .  To her it was as if a trumpet had sounded to herald

the entrance of an angel .
“That’s where the Pope comes from !” she jabbered .
“Oh ,  of course , he babtised my sister’s children . This food really is

good , you could almost be a Pole , Mrs Murphy . ” replied Mrs POwulska as

she ate heartily . Mrs Murphy finished her tea fast , she’d have to give a

final sheen to things before she went .  After all wasn’t a friend of  the

Pope’s coming .  She had seen the Pope in Coventry ,  sneaked in with  the

handicaped thanks to Fr.  Shaw , but now to meet with a friend of the Pope

, Mrs Murphy hadn’t been this excited since her confirmation .
Mrs Murphy took it upon herself to meet Mrs Powulska’s sister  at

the airport . On the drive in Nanska  the sister  , told an awe struck Mrs

Murphy all about “Carol” , which was what the Pope insisted his old school

chums call him ,  his reasoning being that’s what his mum called him ,  so

they  must  call  him  that  too .  Michael cocked  half  an  ear  to  the

conversation , after all it wasn’t often that he had a V.I.P. in the back

of his taxi .  Mind you he had had the odd Lord Mayor or two who did think

that they were important ,  Michael knew from his own experience that  the

really important people tended to be the quiet ones  , they knew that they

were the guardians of gifts ,  however bizarre or seemingly useless ,  yes

the truly important people were the quite ones that was for sure , ask any

old taxi driver mused Michael as he pulled up outside Mrs Powulska’s .
“Thank’s Michael ,  come inside for a cuppa ,  I’m sure Nanska will  not

mind . ” chirped Mrs Murphy .
“Yes ,  Shiela is taking the words from me .  ” continued Nanska who  was

now as a sister to Mrs Murphy . The sisterhood of the faith , was a bit of

a  beneign  conspiracy  .   A  pair  of  rosary  beeds  and  pictures   of

grandchildren in a bag and there you had it , instant sisterhood no matter

what nationality ,  it was the mothers that gave birth to faith ,  and  it

was meer men that said the Masses .  The Pope himself knew that  ,  that’s

why  he  insisted on being called Carol by Nanska and all his  old  school

friends .

Inside the tears flowed into the tea ,  Polish words  and  songs

rang  out from the heart to the heart ,  there in central  England  ,  Mrs

Murphy  looked on ,  she knew that but for the miracle of Poland  breaking

the chains of Communism ,  this happy scene would never have happened . It

was  at  times  like these that a good Irish drink was  called  for  .  So

reaching into the bottom of her black bag , she produced Poteen .
“Will you take some in your “Tay” ?  ” ,  she said but without awaiting an

answer she was pouring it .
“What is this Poteen ?  ” asked a curious Nanska , sitting up straight and

straightening her hugh , black clad bussom .
“Vodka ” was Michael’s reply ,  repeating the word in Polish , it was one

of  the  few words of Polish that he could remember from  the  war  ,  the

others words  he knew were certainly not fit for ladies such as these .
So tentatively sipping at the cup ,  Nanska tried her fortified tea  .Her

face changed colour then slowly changed back again ,  rather like  traffic

lights changing ,  only traffic lights don’t breathe heavily and fan their

mouths with their hands .
“It’s good ” said Nanska with a tear coming down her eye .
“It’s  fresh  if I’m not mistaken ” added Michael who was a  bit  of  an

authority on these things .
“It  was made three weeks ago ,  Sgt Mulhollands family send it  over  ”

mumbled Mrs Murphy a tear now coming down her own eye .
So the three ladies and an old taxi driver got quietly and quickly drunk

,  on tea strengthened with Poteen .  Michael even remembered a whole song

in Polish that he’d learnt . It’s wonderful the power of good alcohol , it

brings back the memories to the old and banishes the cold of loneliness .
As for the song ,  it was as bad or as good as the one Mrs Murphy had sung

at  the do for the childrens’s home .  The two Polish women  laughed  till

they  cried  ,  Michael sung it even louder and was made repeat  it  seven

times ,  and all the time he hadn’t a clue for the life of him what he was

singing ….
The next day Mrs Murphy took Nanska on a trip around town to  show

the sights ,  Mrs Murphy really liked flashing her bus pass like a  police

man , in fact Starsky was her favourite . The two ladies stopped off for a

cuppa at a little cafe by the bus station .  Behind them was a park and  a

wood , it reminded Nanska of home .
“I feel at home here ,  with these woods ,  with a friend by my side ”  ,

she squeezed Mrs Murphy’s hand , as she gazed towards the woods .
” We have woods like that back home , when I was in service in the hotels

in  Killarney I used to walk in the woods .  Its nice to see something  so

tall  and  strong reach up to the sky and grow .  Then you  have  the  low

branches with their leaves leaning down and touching your hair . It always

gave me a thrill . ” said Mrs Murphy as she followed Nanska’s gaze .
“It was such a thrill ,  the soft earth underneath the trees , the bouncy

ground , the squirrels chattering away and jumping like acrobats from tree

to tree ,  the magpies too ,  oh it was all so grand , just think what its

like to be young .” continued Mrs Murphy in bewteen sips of tea .
“It was the closest we got to sex . ” smiled Nanska
“Yes  ,  I  suppose  you  are right – then  we  realised  trees  are  more

dependable than men . ” laughed Mrs Murphy .
They laughed together ,  a shared love of trees ,  a shared  faith  ,  a

shared  hope ,  they laughed as only the old can laugh ,  they laughed  at

themselves .
“Come  on ,  let’s walk in the woods ” said Mrs Murphy  jumping  up  and

nearly knocking the table and chairs over .
A smiling Nanska ,  eagerly joined in this nonsense , oh to be young again

,  youth was wasted on the young ,  they wasted so much time , life is for

living and loving and hoping , not sitting around and saying ” I’m Bored”
all this went through both their heads as they strode towards the wood .
Not  that  they actually strode ,  in their hearts they  did  ,  but  they

progressed towards the woods arm in arm …..
They must have been in the woods for a half hour ,  before  Mrs

Murphy felt the call of nature . So making hissing noises , and gestures ,

she  ushered Nanska on ,  while she did a country pee .  This is  how  Mrs

Murphy described crouching behind a tree with her dress held up about  her

head  so she could let nature take its course .  It was while nature  took

its  course  that it happened .  A fact of human nature to be  prescise  ,

greed .  Nanska was mugged . Mrs Murphy heard the screams and came running

, or rather huffing and puffing with her drawers still not fully pulled up

“What’s up ?” she demanded as she rearranged her underwear .
“A bandit take my bag ” was Nanska’s reply as tried to contain her heaving

bussum , such was her shock and heart rate .
Mrs  Murphy looked feverishly around her hoping to see the  mugger  ,  but

there was no chance .  So taking Nanska’s hand to comfort her , Mrs Murphy

led Nanska out of the wood .  On the way out they found Nanska’s handbag ,

there was a trail of Nanska’s poccessions .
“So we are lucky after all ” said Mrs Murphy trying to console Nanska .
“Yes ,  but he did frighten me ,  he pushed me to the ground  ”  replied

Nanska as she crouched about picking up her belongings .
“Bad sest him ,  the divil carry him  , if ever I catch him , I’d tan his

bare  arse ,” said Mrs Murphy as she struggled about picking  up  Nanska’s

belongings .
“I have everything now ,  he must have thrown it down when he realised  my

money  was Polish kind .  Sadly I miss the gold cross and chain  that  The

Pope gave me . ” sighed Nanska .
Mrs  Murphy’s  ears pricked up as she heard this ,  nobody  , no  cheeky

spotty  youth  was  going to steal from her  friend  ,  she’d  catch  this

“person” if it was the last thing she did . Her head raced with anger , as

the two of them continued out of the wood , towards the bus station .  Now

how would Starsky deal with this she wondered ,  then she wondered   was

St.  Anthony  the  one for muggings too ,  after all she wanting  help  in

finding  that  cross  .  She  was  awakened  from  her  throughts  by  the

“Chugg,chugg” of Michael’s taxi .
“Jump  in ladies ,  where to ?  ” he said quietly ,  as his head  had  not

recovered from the night before .
“You better go to Mark’s , WE have been mugged . ” said Mrs Murphy .
At Mark’s ,  Mrs Murphy and her soul mate ,  were the life  and

soul of the inquest into the mugging .  Concerned looks , and dire threats

of  what they’d do to the culprit were the order of the day . Patrick  his

hands covered in flour came running .
“Are you alright , are you alright ? ” he said , scouring his mothers face

for signs of harm .
“Of course , I am . Only the spotty faced monster made me wet my knickers”
“You were that afraid ? ” said a worried looking Patrick .
“Don’t be so soft ,  you overgrown egyt ,  I was taking a country pee  ,

when  I  heard the fuss ,  then in my rush I wet my knickers .”  said  Mrs

Murphy with a look that said “What kind of idiot have I for a son ” .
“So we’ve wet the baby’s head last week and now your knickers this
week ! ”  said Patrick who couldn’t resist the chance of a joke .
“I’m not too old to tan your bare arse ,  Patrick ! ”  snapped Mrs Murphy

before she saw the funny side and started to shriek with laughter .
“I’m going to catch that cheeky monkey , I don’t mind my knickers getting

wet  ,  it’s  just  that Nanska a visiter to our country  should  not  get

treated like that ,  it ruins the reputation of the place ,  they’ll think

we are all totally uncivilised .  ” Mrs Murphy sounded more than indignant

, she had that look in her eye . Then by way of afterthought she added
“Besides ,  the little bastard stole a cross and chain given to Nanska  by

the Pope himself ! ”
Patrick knew  it was definately a waste of time trying to  persuade  his

mother that she hadn’t a chance in hell of finding the mugger .  He looked

about the cafe trying to think of something useful  to say . Outside Amjit

barked and put his nose to the window .
“Well Amjit can help you , ” said Patrick trying placate his mother .
“Well I’ll take him home with  me then . ”
The next few days Amjit found himself under house arrest at  Mrs

Murphy’s . She was training him with the aid of a hurling stick and ginger

nut biscuits ,  if he had a soul Amjit would have sold it for a ginger nut

biscuit , wasn’t Patrick the same only Rolos were his weakness . Amjit was

a  clever dog already  ,  but Mrs Murphy didn’t quite trust him as he  had

ran  after a squirrel while saving Jaswinder .  She was an old  woman  she

didn’t want to be attacked while souring the town for the mugger  .  Amjit

already knew English and a bit of Indian but now the Gaelic were to be his

command words . Mrs Murphy did not want anybody to know what was coming .
“Well , you seem to know your stuff , so we’ll go for a walk in the woods

then .”
Walking in the woods was a joy for Mrs Murphy ,  a harsh  word

in Gaelic was all that was needed when Amjit started to trot , having seen

a squirrel ahead .That and the odd ginger nut .She thought she’d only have

to walk into the woods and then  the mugger would come out with his  hands

up  ,  but neither life nor love is like that .  The first thing that  Mrs

Murphy  came across seemed to be a body ,  she couldn’t quite see  so  she

sent Amjit ahead ,  just in case it was dangerous .  Amjit crept ahead and

sniffed at a white rounded thing ,  his cold nose touched it . There was a

startled scream ,  followed by a girl’s laughter .  Amjit had disturbed  a

pair  of natural lovers .  Mrs Murphy brought up the rear ,  averting  her

eyes from the naked lovers .
“I’m  sorry  if my dog disturbed your husband at  his  “Work”  ,  ”  the

laughter in her voice ,  hadn’t friends of hers done the same fifty  years

ago in the woods of Killarney ,  in a crowded house a wood can be a  thing

of wonder and recreation  if not procreation .
“He’s only my boyfriend !” came a laughed reply from the girl , while the

boy blushed .
“You should only do that if you know , he’d be a good father to a baby !”
was Mrs Murphy’s moral retort her eyes averted still .
“Oh ,  he will be ,  I want lots of children ,  we are just getting  some

practice in , ” was the final remark before the girl got the boy to carry

on with a job well done .
Mrs Murphy was going to say something more but then thought  of  Patrick

and June ,  so she just laughed and laughed ,  they were true lovers  just

like her Patrick and June , so what if they were early starters . And they

wanted  lots of kids ,  anybody who loved children was ok in Mrs  Murphy’s

book .

Further  into the wood  teenage children were swinging  from  a

rope  tied  to a tree .  When they saw Amjit they  scattered  ,  screaming

“Police”  .  They had been playing truant from school ,  the sight  of  an

enormous  dog  had only meant one thing to them – Police  .  It  took  Mrs

Murphy  a while to realise this . Then she realised she had a new  problem

now , how to make Amjit invisible .

Mrs  Murphy  thought  long and hard  on  how  to  make  Amjit

invisible , it would be easy if she was Paul Daniels the tv magician , but

she  was just a poor widow woman ,  as she insisted to her son every  time

she  wanted to extract a favour .  Saint Francis was roped in to help  but

this only gave partial success , what was needed was something to slow the

hairy  beast down .  Mrs Murphy even thought of attaching the old last  to

Amjit’s collar ,  she ruled this out though ,  something much heavier  was

needed  , something that would make Amjit slow down and so make  him  keep

his  distance and so be invisible .  Then while watching the tv she saw  a

blacksmith ,  a light went on in her mind , now an anvil would be just the

thing to slow Amjit down .  It was then that Saint Francis spoke up ,  she

couldn’t  be  so  cruel to a dumb animal especially  after  he  had  saved

Jaswinder  .  The picture of Mother Theresa looked down the wall and  said

“have faith “.Mrs Murphy looked at Amjit lying at her feet like some  form

of  long  haired rug and smiled her own saintly smile  ,  they  were  only

thoughts ,  meer passing pagan clouds . She threw Amjit a ginger nut , the

“rug” awoke and caught it , licked his lips and wagged his tail ; he liked

her ,  it amused him how she threatened him with a hurling stick ,  he let

her think she was in charge ,  after all he really would sell his soul for

a ginger nut .
The door bell rang ,  Saint Francis had sent a helper ,  no last

this but a human anvil who would really slow Amjit down , it was Mathew .
Mrs  Murphy smiled ,  those saints really loved playing games with  her  ,

they could really drive her to distraction ,  yet they always came through

in  the  end  ,  even though if sometimes  they puzzled  her  despite  her

fathomless faith .

“Hello Mathew ,  come in I’ll make some fresh tea ,  I’ve a favour to  ask

you ” , she said casting a sideways glance at Mother Theresa on the wall.

The next day Mathew and Mrs Muphy were on the street ,  a trail

of ginger nuts seperated them .  The plan was for Mrs Murphy to call Amjit

and make him advance slowly along the street ,  picking up the ginger nuts

one by one ,  Mathew was the braking device to prevent Amjit wolfing  down

the lot .  This  did the trick ,  as Mathew was heavier than any  last  or

anvil .
“Follow  ” commanded Mrs Murphy from up the  street  . Fifty

yards  away Amjit eagerly obeyed ,  why shouldn’t he after  all  ,  wasn’t

there a trail of ginger nuts in front of him ,  he was only a dog , albeit

a very large and hairy dog , but he wasn’t stupid . The pavement was a bit

wet  and  slippery after the early rain ,  and such  was  Amjit’s  pulling

power that if Mathew were wearing skis he could have water skied along the

pavement , but since Mathew wasn’t then that wasn’t a possibility , but it

was  a near thing .  Amjit proceeded up the road after Mrs Murphy  licking

his lips all the way ,  now this was fun he thought ,  even if he did have

to  drag Mathew after him .  After half an hour the supply of ginger  nuts

was  exhausted .  Jaswinder came skipping out with a couple of packets  of

ginger  nuts  ,  her  father like everybody else on the  street  had  been

watching  with  interest .  So patting Amjit hello and  goodbye  Jaswinder

skipped away ,  her mission had been accomplished .  Amjit again  followed

Mrs  Murphy at a distance ,  still weighed down by Mathew ,  to be  honest

Amjit was getting bored ,  even though it was his duty to do Mrs  Murphy’s

bidding , it would be a shame to waste all those nice ginger nuts wouldn’t

it ?  “Now lets see if he’ll do it without the bribe , ” yelled Mrs Murphy

to  Mathew  .  So  Amjit followed her at a  distance  ,  almost  inventing

pavement water skiing at the same time as he dragged Mathew along .  Amjit

followed three times without reward . “Well he seems to have leant it then

doesn’t  he  ?  ”  beamed a happy Mrs Murphy .  Only  to  be  disappointed

immediately  ,  Mathew had let go of Amjit ,  so a disgusted Amjit  dashed

off. It wasn’t fair was it , Amjit had been tricked , he had obeyed out of

duty hadn’t he ,  the ginger nuts had nothing to do with it ,  it was  the

principle , wasn’t it ?

In the cafe Mrs Murphy had a well earned cuppa while she treated

Mathew  to a banana milk shake .  Where had that turncoat Amjit got  to  ,

just when she thought he had learnt his lesson .
Amjit too was having a break ,  he’d dug up a favourite bone and

was chewing on it , pondering on the morning’s fun as he sucked the marrow

from his bone .  It was while Amjit was chewing that he had an idea ,  but

he finished his bone first before he put his idea into action .
“I’ve got an idea  Mathew ,  what if we gradually  reduce  the

amount  of ginger nuts ,  then even that stupid dog will  understand  ,  ”

sighed Mrs Murphy , who was tired and feeling her age .
“Like Barbara Woodhouse did on the telly last night do you mean ? “replied

Mathew as he blew bubbles into his milk shake .  Mrs Murphy realised  what

an old fool she had been and it was Mathew of all people who had made  her

realise this .
“Come on then , I’ll try and whistle the devil back to us , ” she said as

she leant on the back of a chair to lever herself up .

Outside Amjit was sitting with his lead in his teeth ,  his tail

was wagging ,  he was pleased with himself and the bone he’d just eaten no

doubt . “Your stomach not full enough is it ? ” scolded Mrs Murphy . Amjit

just  barked and skipped in front of her just like a puppy .  “You  better

grab him ,  before the rascal runs away . ” Then in front of them they saw

the fruits of Amjit’s chewing the cud or rather chewing his bone  .  Along

the  pavement placed at intervals were fragments of bone !  Amjit  thought

Mrs  Murphy  had  ran out of bribes ,  so he had supplied  his  own  ,  in

readiness for more fun .
“You’d teach this grandmother to suck eggs wouldn’t you ,”  she

again scolded , as Amjit jumped about like a very excited puppy .

“But I thought we were just teaching him to follow you at a distance , and

how can a dog suck eggs , or do you mean carry eggs like Police dogs can

do , like I saw on – ”
“Barbara Woodhouse last night ,  ” interrupted Mrs Murphy .  She looked at

Amjit  and  then Mathew ,  then she smiled ,  some would  call  them  dumb

animals yet both had shown her a thing or two .  There was no doubt in her

mind ,  St.Francis was making a fool of her .  She shook her head then she

let  the  laughter out ,  at her age she had no time nor need of  anger  ,

laughter was all she wanted ,  that and to die in her sleep and to convert

the  pagan  grandparents of course .  The shopkeepers who had  again  been

keeping half an  eye  on proceedings came out to see what was the cause of

all the laughter ,  Mathew having started off too ,  a braying echo of Mrs

Murphy’s earthy laugh , Amjit barking for joy too , which would soon start

off all the dogs in the neighbourhood . A look along the street to see all

the  bones  soon  explained things .  So the whole street  joined  in  the

laughter  .  When sanity returned Amjit proved that he’d already  mastered

the trick of following at a distance .  If the truth be know ,  Amjit  had

worked  things out pretty soon ,  but he hadn’t the heart to admit  it  to

poor Mrs Murphy , besides it was great fun , if she wanted to leave ginger

nuts along the pavement then he wasn’t going to stop her . After all a dog

was man’s and old ladies’ best friend .

Mrs  Murphy resumed her search of the woods  with  her  newly

trained Amjit , but to no avail . So she went and had a bun and a tea from

the cafe in front of the wood . It wasn’t fair , she’d spent all this time

and energy ,not to mention wasted prayers and still no sign of the mugger.
While Mrs Murphy was having simple fare ,  on the other  side

of  town  Mrs  Annette Kemp was treating herself to  Black  Forest  Gateau

washed down by real coffee and cream  all served by pretty young girls  in

uniforms  similiar to those Mrs Murphy had worn fifty years ago  when  in

service  in the hotels on the lakes of Killarney .  Mrs Kemp  was  pleased

with  herself ,  she’d just bought Patrick his birthday present ,  a  very

nice Rolex with clasp strap . So pleased was she that she had the watch on

her table so she could admire it while she had her gateau and coffee , and

she of course congradulated herself on her good taste , if only some would

rub off on Patrick .  Then she smiled to herself ,  hadn’t he married  HER

daughter ,  so if that wasn’t good taste ,  then what was ? She overlooked

the fact that   some of her “friends” would have called  it  a  “Shotgun

Wedding”  ;  but  now that SHE was a grandmother those kind  of  “friends”

could  go  to  hell as far as she was concerned ,  in many  ways  she  was

already like the other grannie – Mrs Murphy .

Outside on the street somebody else was admiring the Rolex ,  a

spotty faced youth with a skateboard under his arm ,  a “class war”  badge

on his jumper , next to a gold cross held on with a safety pin . As far as

the  spotty  youth was concerned here was one of  the  enemy  ,  flaunting

wealth ,  that one watch would more than pay for a years poll tax , that’s

if the spotty youth didn’t feel poll tax was immoral .  Not that  stealing

was immoral , for that’s was what he was about to do .
Mrs  Kemp finished her gateau ,  had a last sip  of  her  real

coffee , then she put the Rolex away , into a dainty carrier with Rolex on

it .  She floated outside ,  with the air of the Queen Mother about her  ,

she  was  happy and content ,  it had been a nice morning ,  a  very  nice

morning  .  So  when  a sneering spotty faced youth shouted  in  her  face

grabbing  her precious cargo she was to taken aback .  She  just  couldn’t

comprehend  the situation ,  it was like stealing one of the  three  gifts

from one of the three kings ,  or slapping an angel’s bum and asking for a

bit of slap and tickle . It happened to other people but never to you , it

was as likely as a man breaking into the Queen’s bedroom . It just did not

happen .  Then Mrs Kemp’s face fell ,  it had really happened and to her ,

just as it had happened to the Queen , even the Queen .

“Stop thief ,  catch that little BASTARD ,” she screamed .  She hailed  a

taxi and ordered “Follow that skateboard . ” Only the taxi driver laughed
“It’s too late for April Fool’s Missus .  ” This really annoyed Mrs Kemp ,

being called “Missus” ,  and by a taxi driver . So she ordered him to take

her to the street , her daughter at least would give her some sympathy ..

“So you see the spotty creature grabbed the bag and made off  on

his skateboard ,  I doubt if he could tell the time , unless it was on one

of  those  horrid  digital watches ,  so why on earth should  he  steal  a

“Timepiece”  like the Rolex ?  ” mused Mrs Kemp to her daughter ,  as  she

sipped her tea in Mark’s cafe .
“So Patrick won’t be getting his birthday present then ? ” said June , who

was holding her mother’s twitching hand , the shock only now sinking in .
“No ,  he’ll have his watch ,  no little hoodlum is going to ruin MY plans

after all ,  Patrick is family now .  Though you will come with me to  the

shop to buy him another , I wouldn’t feel safe on my own .”
June looked at her mother , she suddenly seemed old and vunerable  ,  the

hard  real world had never dared encroach on Mrs Kemp ,  and now there she

was holding June’s hand ,  looking vunerable , June was the mother and her

mother was the little frightened child .

“Of course I will ,  but you need not go to the expense ,  after all it is

the thought that counts , ” concern in both her eyes and voice .
Outside there was a screech of brakes ,as three orange VW vans pulled up .
Out  jumped  eight Indians in turbans and saffron coloured  robes  ,  long

swords dangling by their sides . Behind the Indians came Mrs Murphy , like

an honour guard they heralded Mrs Murphy into Mark’s cafe .
“Nine teas , please , and some cake too , ” flashed a pearl white smile .
Mrs Murphy sat down , her boys surrounding her . It was only then that Mrs

Murphy noticed  a crestfallen Mrs Kemp .
“Are you alright ? You look down today , Annette , ” Mrs Murphy enquired .
“Mom was mugged , just a while ago ,” answered June .
“Jesus ,  Mary and Joseph it’s an epidemic .  Didn’t somebody have a go at

me , only a few minutes ago ! ”
“What ,  somebody tried to mug you ,  dear God ,  Shiela what’s the  world

coming to ? ” a startled Mrs Kemp replied .
“Oh  ,  I’m ok the mugger just pushed me to the ground .  You see the  bus

conducter  was  in a funny mood so he wouldn’t let me take Amjit  on  the

bus  ,  so the poor dog had to walk the two miles home on his own  .  Then

what with the dirty bus windows I couldn’t see where I was and got off  at

the wrong stop . So this young  lad jumped out at me . But luckily my boys

happened to  be passing so they jumped out  of their vans and chased him
down the street .  I think he got the fright of his life , mind you he’s a

very  fast runner ,  he just tucked his skateboard under his arm  and  ran

like  he’d just seen a banshee ,  ” Mrs Murphy gave glowing looks  to  her

boys .
“Well ,  when we saw Mrs Murphy we were going to give her a lift ,  as  it

was we ended up saving her from God knows what ,” said Amajit the one with

the pearl white smile .
“This is Amajit , and these are his brothers , Bamajit , Camajit , Damajit

,Hasajit  ,Jamajit , Nanajit and the little one is Pamajit ,  ” said  a

proud Mrs Murphy as if they were her own sons , and in fact she would love

them to be sons of hers .  For they were all fine strong lads ,  only they

were sons of India and not of Kerry .
“And  how did you you get to know such fine young men ,  ” asked Mrs  Kemp

forgetting her own indignatities ,  for Amajit had the looks of an  Indian

screen idol .
“She stopped me from walking under a bus when I was a child ,  so it is my

duty to honour her and treat her as a mother ,  ” said Amajit flashing his

smile straight at Mrs Kemp .  Mrs Kemp very nearly swooned ,  a smile like

that had never been given to her , never .  Mrs  Murphy winked at  June  ,

wasn’t  this proof of what she had said ,  Mrs Kemp was after a toy boy  ,

and  if Patrick was unavailable then Amajit would do fine ,  very  fine  .

June looked at the ceiling and bit her lip ,  Mrs Murphy was a rogue to be

sure .  Amajit his smiling over ,  snapped his biscuit in two , and sipped

his tea .  His brothers  forming a kaleidoscopic imitation of him ,  as to

the  echo they in turn snapped their biscuits and sipped their  tea  ,  if

there had been music it would have seemed like ballet or even opera .
“The  lads  are off to the Temple for a do ,  these are not  their  street

clothes , ” answered Mrs Murphy seeing a question form on Mrs Kemp’s lips.

“Speaking of which we must be off ,  ” said Amajit looking at his Rolex  ,

his  action  rippling out to his brothers as they in turn looked  at their

Rolexes .  So rising like a wave , with Amajit its crest the Khan brothers

were  off  ,  just  pausing long enough to nod at Mrs  Murphy  ,  and  for

Amajit’s  final smile to Mrs Kemp .  So with a screech and three puffs  of

exhaust ,  the VW vans with the Khan’s in them disappeared . Though Amajit

would never disappear from Mrs Kemp’s mind .

“He’s  such a nice man ,  and were they all wearing Rolex  watches  ?  ”

wondered Mrs Kemp trying to appear nonchalant . Mrs Murphy again winked at

June before answering .

“He’s a nice lad , so are his brothers . They are worth a few million now

I suppose .  Working sixteen hour days does have its rewards  .  They’ve

just  bought the old pressing works , to expand their clothing business  .

They have one sister too ,  but  sadly she’s a spastic ,  they love her to

death  ,  they  are building her a bungalow of her own  ,  next  to  their

parents house , so she can be independent . It’s nice that , they are nice

lads  .  The youngest boy is having a year off before he goes  to  Medical

School , he’s going to go to Birmingham because its the best . ”

” I am impressed , ” replied Mrs Kemp raising her eyebrows .

“You’ll be impressed more when I catch the mugger , ” intoned Mrs Murphy .

Two days later Mrs Murphy had dragged a reluctant Nanska  to  the

woods  ,  not in a last ditch hope  to catch the mugger ,  they  would  be

more likely to uncover a teddybears’ picnic than that ,  no , to quell any

lasting fears Nanska may hold for woods .  They were of course accompanied

by  Amjit  ,  whose  presence  would strike fear into  The  Hound  of  the

Baskerville’s , Mrs Murphy had more than prayers to be her guide .
“I’m  very sorry we haven’t been able to catch that mugger ,it  really  is

such a disappointment to me .  Three old woman all attacked by one  spotty

youth .  I don’t mind it happening to me  ,  nor do I miss the fancy watch

that  my  son’s  mother-in-law lost , its just that you a  guest  in  our

country , and not to mentiopn a friend of the Pope’s should not be treated

like  this ,  ” said Mrs Murphy shaking her head ,  as if it were all  her

fault .
“You do your best Shiela ,  he have the luck of the Devil ,  and he run so

fast  as you tell me ,  ” replied Nanska placing a consoling hand  on  Mrs

Murphy’s .
They  carried  on  walking through the trees ,  the veins  in  the  leaves

looking  like outstretched hands ,  begging hands ,  just as Mrs  Murphy’s

heart was begging the saints to help her and her Polish soulmate . Amjit

stopped and sniffed the wind .  The woman looked ,  ahead of them  a man

was relieving himself against a tree ,  Amjit began to growl softly , that

was one of his favourite trees ,  he’d often marked it ,  what was a  mere

man doing to his tree . Mrs Murphy was on the point of scolding Amjit when

she noticed first the man’s arm .  He was far away ,  but she’d seen eight

Rolexes  the  other day and to be sure that was a  nineth  .  Then  Nanska

pointed ,  wasn’t there a skateboard propped against the tree  .  Amjit’s

growls  errupted into one bark ,this made the man turn to see  where  the

sound came from . It was the worst thing he could have done .
“Bandit , ” screamed Nanska slightly shocked at seeing the mugger again .
“He’ll  be wetting his knickers now ,  ” shouted a delighted Mrs Murphy  .

Before she could shout “Skither his Arse” Amjit was off , he knew that man

wasn’t nice ,  how could he be , he’d used his tree , and he wasn’t even a

nice bitch ,  just a mere man .  Amjit howled ,  the birds scattered , the

squirrels raced up trees , the mugger peed on his own leg , caught himself

on his zip , and then ran like a bat out of hell . Only it would be no use

for a hound of hell was on his tail ,  no longer the creeping ,  the slow

the  steady Amjit as bribed by ginger nuts ,  but the hound of hell  ,  or

rather God’s Animal making a good impersonation of a Hell’s Angel . As the

mugger ran he could hear a jangling ,  this was Amjit’s name tag , his our

lady of Lourdes medal and his Indian holy man medal ,  it formed a kind of

clanging  or bell ring ,  and for whom did the bell toll ,  the mugger  of

course  .  It  was  while  the mugger was running for  his  life  that  he

interrupted  the  young couple ,  tha naked lovers who used  the  wood  to

create  life ,  in fact he fell over them .  Seconds later Amjit placed  a

cold nose on a bare bum , it was his way of asking which way did he go .
Without bothered  to pause  ,  a finger pointed the way ,  Amjit sped  off

barking his thanks .  Amjit was beginning to think what a good runner this

mere man was ,  then he caught up with him . So teeth first Amjit said his

hellos .
“We better try and catch up with him then , ” said Mrs Murphy .
“Do you think your dog is fast enough ? ” pondered Nanska .

A scream rang out through the woods , as if answering Nanska’a doubts , it

was  followed by excited barking .  The ladies looked at one  another  and

laughed  .  So  picking up the discarded skateboard they  made  their  way

though  the woods towards the source of the screams .  On their  way  they

came  across the naked lovers .  Mrs Murphy averting her eyes dropped  her

son’s business card beside them  saying  “If you need a flat give my son a

ring  .  ”  Her son’s flat above the bakery had been empty since he  built

his house , so to save the lovers from catching cold she left the card .
Meanwhile Amjit had let his quarry go ,  not so he could spit the

taste out  before biting the mugger again , but more because it was fun to

let him go .Then he’d have to catch him again ,first Amjit ran away before

reappearing teeth first , rather like a toothpaste commercial , only one

with much more bite . The mugger was cowering on the ground squeezed into

a ball when Mrs Murphy and Nanska arrived .
“Amjit  leave him be .  As for you young man stand up !  ”  commanded  Mrs

Murphy , having the full authority of Amjit’s teeth at her command  .
The man stood ,  he looked scared , not to mention tattered and bleeding ,

Amjit had enjoyed his blood sport .

“You  can take off that watch for starters ,  and empty your pockets  ,  ”

continued Mrs Murphy .
In the woods behind them ,the lovers now clothed watched the proceedings ,
it appeared very strange .  Two old ladies and a very big dog making a man

strip . For Mrs Murphy decided he might be hiding something so she had the

spotty man strip to his underpants ,  she was sure Starsky would have done

the same thing , so it must be right . While the man shivered , Mrs Murphy

searched  the  clothes  .  After a while she got  up  from  her  crouching

position , in her hand she held a cross , Nanska’s cross .
“The  one  Carol give me ,  you are a detective Mrs Murphy ,”   beamed   a

grateful Nanska .

Amjit barked his praise too , his tail moving like a windmill in a storm .
Mrs Murphy then turned her attention to the mugger .  Behind in the  trees

the lovers edged forward , they could sense the coming storm .
“So you think you’re a bigshot attacking old ladies ,  and WIDOWS like  me

and honoured visitors to our country do you ? ” blasted Mrs Murphy .
“Well  don’t think you’re too old to have your bare arse spanked ,  ”  she

continued with her Kerry accent getting stronger by the second .
“Turn  around then drop your pants mister ,  ” she was trying to sound  as

hard as Starsky .  She was getting worked up now , in fact she dropped her

handbag  ,  the  contents spilt everywhere .  While she  gathered  up  the

contents  of her bag the mugger dropped his pants ,  he’d never live  this

down .  But worse was yet to come ,  for amongst the spilt contents of Mrs

Murphy’s handbag was superglue ,  used to fix her favourite beeds .  In  a

second  a wicked idea was formed in Mrs Murphy’s mind .  She  grabbed  the

skateboard , squirted the glue onto it , then used it to spank the mugger.
Only one spank ,  then while Amjit barked his approval she held the  board

to the muggers behind .
“There you are ,  now see how dignified you feel ,  about the same as your

victims  who  you leave sprawled about !  ” screeched  a  triumphant  Mrs

Murphy as she took her hands from the skateboard  , which remained stuck
to  the mugger’s behind .  Nanska was silent for a second before  bursting

out laughing , the old ladies hugged each other as they continued laughing

till tears formed in their eyes .As for Amjit he saw a friend ,another dog

that  is  to say ,  so with a bark of farewell he ran off to  play  .  The

mugger made his retreat , with the old ladies laughing him farewell .
When the laughing was over the ladies continued walking  out  of

the woods , the lovers broke cover to run after them .
“Excuse  me  ,  but this card you gave us you weren’t playing  a  joke  or

something were you ? ” asked the girl .
“Not at all , in fact we are going back that way now , so if you come with

us  on the bus you can see my son about it ?  ” relied Mrs Murphy  as  the

last trace of her laughter faded , leaving just slightly curled up lips as

evidence of her revenge in the woods .
“My car is parked by the bus station ,  we’ll give you a lift . By the way

we saw what you did to that man , it was very funny , ” said the man .
“Bad  cest  him ,  he was a mugger ,  I don’t think he’ll be  mugging  old

ladies anymore , ” said an indignant Mrs Murphy .
Back on the street in Mark’s cafe Mrs Murphy held court , telling

and  retelling  the story .  Everybody thought she was right to  turn  the

tables . When Patrick and June came in Mrs Murphy held up the Rolex before

throwing it at her son .
“There’s  your birthday present from your mother-in-law ,  I retrieved  it

from the mugger ,  Amjit helped of course ,  mind you he’s gone off  after

some lady dog now . ”
“It’s nice ,  very nice ,  pity its not a stretch strap  though ,  ”  said

Patrick as he examined the Rolex .
“Well  as it happens I stopped off at Jimmy’s ,  so here’s my present  for

you , ” Patrick’s mum then threw a stretch stap at him .
“Thank’s  mum ,  you were always practical ,  though it used to be  boiled

sweets you threw at me . ”
“Oh  June come here I’ve a favour to ask ?  ” continued Mrs  Murphy  still

basking  in the afterglow of fame .  The two then confered ,  before  June

looked at Liz and Keith before laughing , then with a nod of her head June

consented to Mrs Murphy’s idea .June edged up to  Patrick and gave him  a

lingering kiss on the lips ,  making him blush ,  he hated being kissed in

public . He knew June was up to something , but what was it ?
“Patrick I have decided , or rather we have decided ” she began .
“You and me ? Decided what ? ” interrupted Patrick .
“Me  and  your mother ,  that we ,  ” continued June ,  pausing  to  plant

another smacker on his lips .  Patrick blushed again ,  and looked at  the

floor in an effort to hide those blushes from all in the cafe .
“To finish ,we , and this time I mean you and me are going to rent out the

old flat  to Liz and Keith over there , ”  she kissed her husband again to

press home her point .
“I suppose it is a waste to let it go empty , ” observed Patrick trying to

appear in charge of the situation .
“Yes it would be .  Besides we don’t want Liz and Keith to catch a cold  ,

oh and by the way I think we should have a walk in the woods next month .”
Patrick  could see the glint in her eye ,  he did not understand but  June

was good at explaining ……

0a3b5-dscf4084BBU Russian Translation microsoft wordBBU in KOREANBBU GermanBBU FrenchThe Polish Translations

Football Crazy 2010

Football  Crazy 2010
By
Michael  Casey

I speak as a football naive, I’ve only been to two matches in my life. It was Villa v Arsenal and Villa v Derby maybe 12 years ago. (1998?)
But as I said to Barry at the time the crowd was alive, it was like a huge cat moving and swaying reacting to the play on the pitch. The 1st match I was above the goal very high up. The 2nd match I was with Chris in the middle just a few rows up. Live football cannot be beaten, I can’t really explain how it looks and how it feels. Its like you’re in a huge jelly that you put on the washing machine and then somebody switches the washing machine on, so you wobble and wobble and  you have no control.

That’s what a football crowd feels like. So much mass movement, so much excitement, 50,000 people  screaming and shouting, laughing and crying. The grass so very very green.
This is live football and when you have a master, and here you can take your pick from any team, ManU, Villa, Chelsea and all the other teams. When you have a master on the pitch it really is The Theatre Of Football. Act One, Act Two and even a few dodgy acts trying to impress the Ref, all of this is football. Live is always best. We’ve just moved up to a new big lcd tv this year, the difference to everything and to football is amazing. I imagine Sky’s 3D is going to be totally fantastic too.

Footballers are today’s Gladiators, instead of Nero or any other Caesar raising his thumb  or condemning  to death, now we have Sir Alex, and the other managers raising their thumbs from their honoured position in the stands. It’s an old quote but a true one, “is it a matter of life or death?” No its more important than that.

I have a lot to learn about football, but I do know one thing, the game is better when all of the players are on the pitch in their natural area and not in self imposed “cages” whatever those “cages” are. For footballers  are like lions, they are born free, free as the wind, chasing and ducking and diving, their prey is the football, and the net is their home.




Chatting with Doris

Chatting with Doris ©
By
Michael Casey

I was about to find my bench in the churchyard when I stumbled over Doris in the churchyard, it’s not her real name, just in case her husband is reading this, he could be the jealous kind, not wishing to share his Doris. Doris is not a nubile young thing trying to turn my head, Doris is 80 and maybe more. Though if she is younger I hope she will forgive me, I can talk what with my silver hair, or white if you are unkind.

So I had popped into the churchyard and part on my routine and was about to sit on my John Thomas Beddall bench when I spotted Doris, so I said hello again and sat down. Am I lying really and is she a nubile young thing with legs up to her armpits with an innocent smile above a heaving chest. No she is not, beside I’m only attracted to Orientals. Doris really is a little old lady, we’ve exchanged a few greeting on the high street, and she has a great smile, she twinkles, she has a good sense of humour too.

So I sat by Doris and said hello again, last time we met was at the GPs when I had to take my small daughter for her tetanus injection, which turned out to be 2 injections, they gave her the kissing virus injection too. You know the one students get before going to University, meninajarvirus injection or some other name. Then Doris had met my small daughter while she was looking for a dustbin, now she met me again.

I told Doris my other daughter was having a look at Birmingham University along with the small daughter she had already met. I had rung my Oriental wife, Shanghai that is, with some news when a pigeon poohed on my wife as I shared the news. My Irish mother would have said that was good luck. I hope my mother is right, we’ll find out on Monday. Meanwhile my girls went to Ying Yip to spend the vouchers my wife had won at the Birmingham Chamber of Commerce dinner, so a very big thank you to them. My wife is world famous now in some quarters of Birmingham, a small sprat in the fishbowl.

A man passed by in the churchyard, he reminded me of the Postman I stumbled into on my wedding day, the Postman had said I was Shanghaied and of course he was right. So I asked was he him, it turned out he was not, though he has jade beads on one wrist. He turns out to have a connection with the churchyard, so I recommend my neighbour for any gardening requirements. The man who was not a postman turns out to be a local property man, he said he had 3 houses, so God Bless him.

Meanwhile me and Doris alighted on Round the Horne, I told her I was a bit of a Julian though my hair was once a bit Sandy, she laughed so encouraged I continued that my Sandy was a bit Julian, and I was a Bona writer. Now this 80 something was tickled, the rest of you might think we had had too many Lucozades or being chewing too much Wrigleys. I asked her had she seen that man again, no not the man who was not the postman, but ITMA, Its That Man Again, a famous radio show. You can all discover audio on Utube, it will illuminate my back passage to where my comedy stems from.

It turns out that Doris has a typewriter, I swooned. I hope you are a speed typist, I explained I had another full length novel in me. If only I could recline like Dame Barbara Cartland and recite my next 600 page full length novel, Tears for a Butcher to Doris ready at her keyboard. Sadly Doris was not open to my proposition, at 80 she could not keep up with to torrent. I asked did she have a child, but she did not. So my idea was stillborn.

We bantered away while her milk curdled in her wheellie shopping bag, then I departed I had to do a bit of shopping, non Chinese food shopping that is. I said to the strawberry salesman in the church grounds that me and Doris might run away together on the no.11 bus. Doris just remarked I was definitely a Julian and not a Sandy, whatever that meant.

Doris was not on the bench the following day, but there was a Korean girl sitting there, she said she was the cleaner where Doris lived, and you have guessed it, she was also a speed typist, 150 words a minute. Doris had sent her along, with instructions, look for the fat silver haired writer in shades from the churchyard. He’s a bit of a Julian but you’ll have a Sandy experience with him if you type Tears for a Butcher for him, whatever does Doris mean?
dab6b-imgp0008KOREAN TRANSLATION Still Alive 2015The Polish Translations50 Spanish ExamplesBBU FrenchBBU GermanBBU in KOREANa2d2d-piano2bgirl

Chick Flicks

Friday, 22 June 2018

Chick Flicks

Chick Flicks ©
By
Michael Casey
Well I had a nap and went to the Polish shop for chocolate and 7Up, now we can settle down for a film. There doesn’t seem to be much on normal tv, then I spotted Bridget Jones’s Diary. So my girls are watching that for the 10th time while take refuge here, and talk to you about them. Meanwhile the girls in the Polish shop are shelf filling, no Hugh Grant for them, he’d have to be 2 meters tall with Slavic good looks even to get a look in. Sorry Hugh, go back to your film, we have shelves to stack.
So what makes a good film, a good film as far as girls are concerned? Well there has to be humour, and a good bastard to bitch at. Is that Hugh Grant again? There has to be a noble soul, he can have a limp and be ugly, so long as he is not too ugly. He can get the girl, and the bastard can get beaten, or rescued by a really fat and ugly girl who finally saves him. Dream boy gets ugly girl, with a wart, so he is
saved, or is it condemned by Fate. Meanwhile the heroine is saved and gets a nice boy, even if he has a limp.
Gushy music plays a part, as does music, genre music of its time. Bridget Jones’ Diary I see was made in 2001. Soft focus and girls crying while just in their knickers sat of their bed stroking the cat for comfort. It’s as simple as that, it’s almost like a recipe.
There is a film about a London/LA house swop, The Holiday now that’s a chick flick but also a good family film, we’ve seen it a couple of times now. It has music and comedy and soft focus, I like it, though I’m no chick. The genre is made for girls who want a film without their bloke, just for them and their girl friends, a Thursday night out, where they can laugh together and bond with their girlfriends. No violence and blood bathes, no need to squirm, and no chance of puking because of all of the buckets of blood.
In the room behind me I can hear the pompous lawyer saying he loves Bridget Jones. Corny but nice themes, she gets a nice man who’ll treat her well, the bastard always loses. Or gets drowned in the pool in the park, only to be dragged out by the really fat girl with the wart on her lip. So the bastard gets his just rewards a really fat girl with a wart who’ll break his back and bed when she takes advantage of him. So it’s a morality tale, if you are a bastard this is what will happen to you.
Though in other chick flicks, the ugly duckling has a good wax and loses those hairy legs, and suddenly loses 40 pounds. Then she steals Hugh Grant’s heart, only to discover he’s still a bastard in the 2nd film in the series, he divorces her because they cannot have children. So she is comforted by the fat ugly man in shades with silver hair from Birmingham and she marries him instead, only to discover she can have children after all. Seven of them, each more beautiful than the  previous one. It’s God’s sense of humour, ugly dads have beautiful children.
As for the Hugh Grant character, what happens to him? He dies a horrible death, or becomes a doorman in a strip club, Stringfellow had pity on him before he went to Heavens About, a deluxe club. At the end of the day a chick flick is a laxative as it moves you, and clears blockages, but makes you feel so relieved, so relieved you cry.
*******
well I managed to write something today after all
BBU Russian Translation microsoft wordBBU in KOREAN2419e-imgp0005d312e-edward_burne-jones_-_an_angel_playing_a_flageolet24178-mea2d2d-piano2bgirl

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Wednesday, 27 June 2018

Deja Vu

Deja Vu  a 2006 film  with Denzel Washington was on tv tonight.

 a detective film with a sci fi  twist.   8/10   so find it and have a look.

 Denzel is a class actor a few good twists in  tonight's film

 No new story today, as I was fixing my computer again.

 I'd still love to know why I get a cursor moving methodically all over my screen.

 Do I have a ghost...

 Though if you google earth my house you can see me standing outside, like a ghost

 www.michaelgcasey.typepad to hear me, its several years since I did the recordings 200 stories and over 11 hours of me on audio. just 50 stories on my site.
Though now I must have approaching 2000 stories

 Nice to see you are googling my books, there are 16 now just follow the link

 https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0











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Tuesday, 26 June 2018

Ice Cream at my Funeral



Ice Cream at my Funeral ©
By
Michael Casey

Well its hot and my big daughter wanted ice cream so we had some new green ice cream from the local alcohol shop. It did not have alcohol in it and it was not minty either, but we liked it, so we had our share and put it back in our fridge for later. It said the taste of the East so obviously I was attracted to it. As me and my daughter enjoyed it, I thought what can I talk about tonight, then the idea of Ice Cream at my Funeral arrived.

So would you eat ice cream at a funeral. We had a snooker table full of food at my mother’s and then my dad’s funeral, and obviously the bar was open too, we were in the Irish Club over the road from the funeral directors. But would you have ice cream at a funeral. I’ve just decided I want ice cream at mine. Sadly I won’t get to eat any myself, but there should be a party atmosphere, the days of wearing black at funerals are long over. Except celebrity funerals, especially Z list celebrity funerals where everything is exaggerated as much as the Duchess of York’s, that’s Fergie’s, waves to the Queen at Ascot.

Ice cream is from Xmas parties at primary school, I can remember hearing don’t get burnt, yes burnt as they moved a chunk of ice which was being used to keep the ice creams cold at the school Christmas party, this was in 1968 maybe. See my greed has kept that memory alive till this very moment, we were sat in the school hall I remember.

Maybe only Latins would have ice cream at funerals, or drugs cartel funerals. I don’t know, I’ve never been invited to a Latin American drugs cartel funeral. And the only “drugs” I take are medicines my doctors insist I take. Though with my imagination some people think I must be on drugs. Sorry to disappoint you, and please stop sending me adverts for legal cannabis. I’m in UK, not USA. Imagination is all I need and maybe a good supply of ice cold fizzy pop from the shop.

Ice cream does denote celebration or relaxation, and expensive ice cream, not the cheapest of the cheap stuff is so nice. Ask any girl, the quickest way to her heart is Cadbury’s chocolate from here in Birmingham, and ice cream. Give a girl that and she will give you, her attention. Anything else you will have to deserve.

Ice cream is Summer and happiness, even Theresa May is having an ice cream right now, as she contemplates hanging Boris from the flagpole on top of no.10 Downing Street by his naughty bits. Meanwhile she has a 2nd ice cream and gets her security crew to have one too, an ice cream to relax with, even the policeman on the door gets one, with not one but two Cadbury flakes inserted. Forming a 2 fingered salute in the ice cream just in case Boris passes by.

So ice cream is a thing of joy, you cannot be unhappy when the ice cream is dripping down your fingers. Even hardened close protection officers can relax as they have a ice cream. Theresa may have some ice lollies too stuck at the back of the fridge. If you save the sticks from the lollies when you have five of them you can weave together a triangle that you can throw across the garden of number 10 Downing street. How else do you think Theresa May can relax? Yes it’s ice cream and lollies followed by making flying ice lolly stick triangles.

But I digressed, however it proves a point ice cream helps people chill, it relaxes us and brings out the child in us. So when my time arrives head for the ice cream section in Iceland or any posh supermarket, don’t wear black, not unless you are fat or going to a night club later. Then lick your lolly as the priest says the prays and buries me in Trinity Road graveyard Smethwick, next door to the Sikh temple and the postal sorting office, and over the road from what was The District Iron and Steel Brasshouse Lane, Smethwick, where my dad spent 40 happy years sweating. It has rail, canal and road connections, so you can all come and pay a visit when you are looking for work, as it’s opposite the labour exchange too.

Enjoy your ice cream and remember though Life ends in cold, its when we make Life warm and full of laughter that we truly enjoy our lives. So make love and enjoy ice cream simultaneously, then you will enjoy life to the full, but be careful where you drop any ice cream.




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Humour Writing by the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England read in 167 countries so far https://www.amazon.co.uk/Micha...