ok, I tricked you to get you here, but here's a good read
and if you like it then buy it on Amazon
overnight a photo did emerge, so here it is
a picture is worth 1000 words, or in this case an Election
by
Michael Casey
1.
Window Shopping © by Michael Casey
Well the
cold has got me so I’m all bunged up and drinking gallons of hot drinks, the
kettle is whistling so wait a sec. Ah that’s better, another hot coffee, then I’ll
switch to hot blackcurrant. Why do colds come at Xmas? They are as predictable
as carol singers. I only ever tried carol singing once as a child that’s
another memory that has rushed back to me.
Rosie told
me she believed that if you looked at a toy shop window you could see all the
toys but at night when you were not there they all came to life. She was a
child at the time, but I hope she lets that memory come to life often. My kids
still believe in Santa as do I, I go for
the
fittings of his new costume at Slaters every Christmas, and then Santa comes
along for the final fitting, we are about the same size you see. You could say
I am his body double, just like in the films.
But back to Slaters, now they only have a small shop
like an
Aladdin’s cave. But speaking of shop windows and window shopping there are many
ways to window shop. The real world one can be tiring trudging around the
shops, especially if you have a young and fashionable wife. So I soon realised
the best way was to let her go on her own while I had peace and quiet, then
once we had kids she took the kids and I had peace and quiet. The perfect
solution, especially as I paid the bill. Young girls
become very
fashion conscience, so they were the perfect mirror, to say mum this is good or
this is bad. I’m sure Shanghai husbands/boyfriends agree with me, perhaps there
should be a club for the Shanghai husbands/boyfriends
Me I look
in 2 shop windows and know they won’t have my size, and then I head for
Slaters, sometime with the family in toe, then its like lightning, flash bang
whallop, I’ve
got all I need. That’ll do me for a year or two.
I do like
looking in watch shop windows, watches are a weakness of mine, why are men’s
watches so huge nowadays, its like having an alarm clock strapped to your
wrist. I
tend to go
for the elegant ones, or the elegant ones in my opinion. The ones with multi
dials and buttons to
press and
turn are a turnoff. Oris ones are nice, as are Omega. Yes I do dream of having
one of those when I win the lottery or finally sell some books. My first watch
was for passing the 11plus, its all in The Watch and Me an essay on my site
www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com Now we are in a technological world, we have
windows on the world via our tv and our computer. I was telling my girls
earlier today that we only had 2 or 3 tv channels when I was their age, they
could not believe it. So what do we do with our tv/computer eyes ?We window
shop. Obviously I look at watches and dream of my automatic Oris or Omega, and
how nice it would be. I have had maybe 20years these past 20 years or so. I’m
forever carrying things and banging my watches. One steamed up and the front
fell off so I superglued the glass back on, only I glued the hands together.
What else
do I window shop? Well when I need a new winter coat I look at the web sites
and see what I can see in
xxl or 2xl
as it’s called nowadays. Window shopping on the web allows me to see what’s
available, the designs and so forth, all from the comfort of my own home, as
you’ve seen from the photos on my website. The government encourages all this
window shopping because it helps
trade and
that in turn helps their tax take, which in turn should help us. We do finally
leave our homes and visit town and buy stuff and have a beer and a meal while
we are at it.
We all look
online before we book our holidays, some look online for love, romance, sex.
And then they book their holidays. Online is our eyes, nobody will believe how
old fashioned the world used to be, my grandkids won’t believe the Internet was
invented, its as ordinary as trees growing in a back garden, its always been
there. In the future there will be guided tours explaining about Window
Shopping, about holding hands in the rain, about blokes gathered in the doorway
talking about MU while their wives/girlfriends try on stuff. Window Shopping is
part of world culture, it’s the 3rd oldest occupation in the world after sex
and stories comes Window Shopping.
2. What's on the Internet?
There
was a piece in today's DT about the internet, my post Internet Story says a lot
about the subject so I've brought it back below.
But I would
first say that using the Internet allows you to practice your skills, it allows
you to be a verbal Banksy, to share your "wisdom" with the world. It
allows you to hijack websites for your own devices, its like shouting at a tv
crew or pulling faces at the tv crew while they interview somebody important or
self important, its like mooning while a politician drones on. Which is more
important, a politician trying to save face or a mooner behind him?
Me I'm trying to get people to read The Butcher The
Baker
and The Undertaker my comic novel. If I had a few
quid
I'd publish it as an Ebook, at the moment its a free
read
on my site. www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com I can
empathise with singers who used to tour all the old
folk
clubs being allowed to do three songs in the
interval.
Finally they are allowed to do a set of six poems.
Mad
Dogs and Englishman was a great band from years ago,
they
may be dead now, I hope not but alcohol has got a
few of
their kind.
Nick Fenwick was another great singer, as was Tommy Dempsy. Back to the
Internet, here everybody has their 15mins of fame or their own virtual world in
which they are a star, its like Xfactor where you are both the judge and jury
and your own publicist. Yes I've broken some of the "rules" on the
internet but thats the joy of
it you can
have your say, the printing press was a great revolution and brought education
to the masses, so now in its way the Internet brings enlightenment to the
masses. Yes its brings lots of rubbish too, perhaps 50% rubbish and 50%
interesting stuff, but I do think I'm right in saying it is as important as the
printing press. If we didn't have the Internet we could still be back in the
days of Monks in cells illuminating pages. Now if I could draw my book would be
more sellable, a few drawings grab people so they turn the pages, cover art is
important
too. So if
Banksy reads this how about doing some illustrations for me. As payment they'll
be one blank page in every book so you Banksy can draw to your hearts content,
me I'll just enjoy the royalties.
Now
everybody enjoy Internet Story again. Michael in Freezing Birmingham
Michael G Casey Email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com
By
Michael Casey
So all I
had to do was send an email , and then I’d be a writer , my book in every shop
, my face smirking from cardboard cut outs of me holding my book aloft . My
book had a great title , so it was bound to sell . A Nation Of Shopkeepers was
a great title , if only people could remember their History , were people
interested in History , and for that matter my book . It wasn’t a history book
, would people think it WAS a history book , and then not buy it . It was a
comedy drama , about a street of shops , interconnecting short stories , for
all the family , but would people notice the levels , the strands of humour ,
or would they say it’s a Ma & Pa book
,
and miss the joke , just as one publisher called did ?
I decided to keep the title , though I had a reserve
title , The
Butcher , The Baker and The Undertaker . Then I realised the US market would
rename it The Butcher , The Baker And The Funeral Arranger . You don’t think
about such things when you are writing the book , you’re just happy , on a roll
, in love with your own intellect
,
or just surprised you actually DO have any intellect ,
then you
discover that you are dyslexic , you really are dyslexic , thankfully not a
really bad case , just dyslexic . As you proof read you see you have put BUT
instead PUT , LEAD instead of READ , things like this and other strange things
. Sure there are spellcheckers but or is it put , you have to check it anyway .
As you read you are surprised at your own ability . You didn’t waste 4years in
journalism school , but your writing is GOOD , Did I write that ? Then your
chest filled with pride you get somebody else to read it , and guess what ?
They think its crap . So now you have to decide , should I give up or should I
carry on ?
I gave up
for as while , while is a unit of years in my case , my life took another path
, so the writing was forgotten , it lay dormant for years , then like a phoenix
it arose , or more truthfully , like a tortoise awaking from hibernation ,
sleep still in my eyes I slowly poked my head out , then back in , went back to
sleep again , then finally with the pangs of hunger in my stomach I just had to
do something . In my case it was eat , as in really eat , then I turned to my
old Atari
and
realised it was not PC compatible , so I bought a new , or rather an old new
Atari which was PC compatible .
Then I
spent a day copying my files so that I could read them on a PC . Then I wrote a
few more pieces before I realised I’d get nowhere in England . The chances of
being published were 1 in 2000 . So like a bear , I went back in my cave and
slumbered .
Meeting my
wife Jing Jie was a turning point in my life , and not just because it was like
Thunder as Jing Jie calls it , it was a turning point because I had a
professional opinion on my writing , from a journalist at the very top of the
tree . Her uncle is an editor in chief , so his comments were and are like gold
, worth more than my first coffee and Cadbury’s chocolate , the pleasure rush I
treat myself to every day , his comments really were that important to me , and
I really DO like my Cadbury’s , so being better than Cadbury’s is the highest
praise I can give . So I knew the quality of my writing , even if others said
and say its crap .
Getting a
modern PC and internet connection was another turning point . Email in our
house is like water and eclectic in any other homes . Jing Jie can “talk” to
her mum in Shanghai every day . To friends all over the world as well .
Birmingham IS the centre of the universe .So with hope and fear I had to
transfer my files from my old
Atari to the new PC . The floppy discs were old and battered
, several were unreadable , finally my work , my babies were safely on the new
PC . Just to be on the safe side I set up a web site , so now my work was on
somebody’s server in the US , thousands of miles away , safe from fire or theft
. I could also put our new baby’s photos on the web site so that my Chinese
family in Shanghai and Miami and friends all over the world could see Annie and
Jing Jie and me , they could even read my work too .
So now all
I had to do was market my work in the US , simple really , soon I’d be doing
something useful with my life , making people laugh . I’d be a writing whore ,
I’d get paid to make others laugh , the best job in the world . So how would I
set about it ? I got a list of radio stations from the internet and started
sending emails galore . I’m talking in the hundreds now , to radio stations the
length and breath of the US .They could publicise my site then eventually I’d
get published
,
or my play would get produced . It was simple wasn’t it
. So
merrily I went about my business , sending emails galore . Years before I used
to send off big heavy envelopes with my work in , with more persistence than
hope in my heart .”Thank you for your pieces of paper “was
the best put down . I once even met a writer and he agreed to read my play
Shoplife , then he wrote back calling me a plagiarist , because it was so good
. So I
used his
note as toilet paper , Shoplife was so good because I had 20years of experience
given to me by my sister , I just improved on it , but yet I was called a
Copyist , so naturally I was angry and used his note to wipe my bum .
I wondered why
my strike rate was so low with my emails to radio stations , then somebody
casually mentioned , “You do know they will just delete anything with an
attachment” . In these days of viruses or worms which I’ve discovered is the
new trendy word , nobody can risk their PC , so I merrily send and they merrily
delete .
I’d been
wasting my time , but not my money because I’d got a 24/7 package on my
internet from AOL .However one radio station did read Shoplife . The DJ or is
it Host ,
he called
it hilarious and he could not stop reading it . It turned out he was an actor
as well , though isn’t everybody an actor in the US ?So I thanked him , and
quoted him in my future advertising .Humour is a funny thing . The things that
make English people laugh are not
are constantly told by people on tv that English TV
is
the best in the world , the US material we see is
the top
10% , the rest is rubbish . But I know I’d never get
my
foot in the door in England so I had to persist with
my
American campaign , so now I pasted in my material ,
no
attachments . Just get them hooked , then paste in a
sample then direct them to
www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
Then bingo
part2 of my life could begin ,I’d be the man that made America laugh , a naïve
sentiment , but it was honest .Only AOL turns things into zip files and some
people can’t unzip your files , it’s like wanting sex but your zipper is broke
and you can’t get your trousers off . Such a strong urge , but no fulfilment .
I switched
to MSMAIL and pasted in my stuff , things started to happen , my files weren’t
being deleted or too zipped up to be read . At least I wasn’t frustrated any
more . Now I had an agent interested , and a new magazine
,
even a theatre replied .All praise to Bill Gates , and
to a Christian called Pat Verato who pointed me in the direction of a few good
sites .However some of the sites that I trawled through were just , so very
American . Hey
,
you too can be a writer , just send me 10 dollars and
I’ll send you my book “How to make 10 dollars” , and he does
. Then there’s magazines you can subscribe to , yes you’ve guessed it , just
send another 10 dollars “Writing for Beginners” . There’s all these agents too
who are so successful , persuading tap dancing bus drivers to write about Tap
Dancing For Bus Drivers , the complete self help book , costs 10 dollars . The
agent gets 20percent , and the bus driver pays 5000dollars to print 500 copies
, then he can boast he’s a writer , not just a bus driver , and guess what if
you pay 10 dollars you can learn to tap dance too .
As for me ,
what do I think of all this ? I’d say just keep on writing , stop your selling
, or attempts at selling , just write a bit . Add to your catalogue of 3 poems
and 2 short stories , then search for an agent . Believe you’ll never be
published and then you won’t be disappointed. There is one final thing you can
do though
,
just tell everybody to go to my site
www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
And help
find a publisher for my book , and then you’ve guessed it , just send me 10
dollars !
End
Somebody
said he knew my face today, he was looking at a photo of me on my site
www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com But 100,000 people know my face, I worked at a
4star hotel
for a few
years so that many guests must have seen me. I have brothers and cousins, so I
suppose my face could look familiar. My hair is distinctive, it went white,
silver if you’re generous to me, it went silver 20 years before it should have.
I’m “granddad” on the school run. In songs a face changes things, “when I saw
her face” the Monkees sang, I was small when their show was on tv. “Take that
look off your face” another song sings. For the Chinese its about not losing
face, saving face is important. Putting a face to a name is what we say when we
meet after just phone or email contact. Faces are important, we can see each
other, we can see each other’s reactions, the look of love or the sneer of
contempt.
Fear written
on a face, tired and worn out, sad eyes, pained eyes all of this is on a face.
But what about a mother’s face, love is written all over it, kindness and
compassion and laughter too. My wife took my mother’s
photo to Shanghai to introduce her to my Chinese family, my
mother had died a few years previously but the photo showed them the depths of
love, the oceans of love, all of this from the smile on her face. A face is a
door to the soul, a way to the heart, a sign showing just how much spirit of
love is inside a person. A face is a road map for love, so always be open, a
hard uncaring, a hard look is self defeating, I’m strong, leave the face
pulling
alone, leave it for heavy weight boxers. Me I hope I have a ready smile, a warm
look just as it was given me by my parents and by my heritage. His face reminds
me of Santa, now that is a face worth keeping. Smile Everybody.
The King
was in his counting house accounting out his money when down came a Blackbird…
We all
remember this from school days, days getting further away from us all the time.
We all know
how to save the pennies, save the pennies and the pounds will look after
themselves.
Make ends
meet, what does that mean, touching your toes perhaps?
Scrimp and
save, things are tight, does that mean you are fat? Or lack of money.
We all
learn about money when we are small. We remember the sound of loose change in
dad’s pocket.
We were
getting a treat because Dad was getting money out, we could hear the sound we
were happy.
I’m old
enough to remember real money, pounds shillings and pence money.
It was 12
pennies to the shilling and 20 shillings to a pound, and horses were sold in
guinnies, if I’ve spelt it right.
Our
money confused my American cousins, but it was fun explaining it to them. A
halfpenny, a penny, a threepenny
crowns I
next saw, an orange 10 shillings note and then a pound note, and then other
notes which I never got to see because I was too small.
Explain all
that to a foreigner and they were totally lost, going to the moon was easier to
understand.
I’m
old enough to remember the joy of the Apollo landing, we were the world,
everything was so exciting, Apollo and Ali not to mention the Beatles and real
money.
A penny was
made of copper and so was the half penny, the threepenny bit was six sided with
a portcullis design on
it, it went
green with age. The sixpence was very slim slimmer that today’s 5 new pence.
The shilling was thicker and perhaps bigger than today’s 10pence. It was real
money and the sweets it bought were so much better than today’s sweets, or so
it seems.
We knew
about money because we had lodgers and they came to the back door to pay the
rent, sometimes barely able
to stand
up, smoke and beer belching over us kids. Are you alright Mrs Casey? As they
leant on the lintel for support, staggering away to the pub again.
The gas and
electric meters had to be emptied and the money counted. We had a copper
coloured metal jug which
had the keys for the locks on the meters inside it, when dad
had then we knew he’d be counting soon. He emptied the money on the kitchen
table and started counting, piles of coins, shillings and florins.
Dad was
like a Casino croupier counting and stacking the coins. Then when he’d finished
he’d put the coins in little plastic bags, and after that in a small leather
black bag. This was his lunch bag for work at the foundry, but when the gas or
electric bill came it was
the bag for the money. I was charged with walking
down to
the corner shop, there I’d present the money to Mr
Singh
who wouldn’t even weigh it, just throw it in his
safe and
peel off the money from his very large wad from his
back
pocket. Smiling we’d say our goodbyes both happy
with the
exchange. Who needs a bank when you have a corner
shop?
There are more stories to tell, but I’ll save those
for
another day.
TTFN
Michael
Michael Casey
Words have
meaning words have power Words are nothing but hot air
Words mean
this words mean that Words can set you free
Words can send you to jail
Words can
be sprayed on a wall like cat's pee Words can be printed on a press and sell
millions Words can be illuminated one at a time by Monks Words are lies words
are truth
Words can
send you to war Words can bring peace We are Words
In the
Beginning was the word But what is the last word
Michael Casey
If Music Be
The Food Of Love wrote Shakespeare, he was right, Music Is The Food Of Love. A
boy can get up close and personal if he has the right mood music. A girl’s
heart will melt if he has the right song on his
hifi,
or should I say IPod. Music touches us, it makes our hearts beat faster, just
as a bit of flesh revealed makes our eyes dilate.
In the
interests of balance should I reverse the sentence, a boy’s heart will melt, or
a gay lover’s heart will melt etc. Let’s take that as read, Love does
Conquer All
as my mum once encouraged me, and if you look at my family photo you’ll see IT DID.
Now Music
has been a big thing in my life, since 1974 to be exact. How can I be so exact?
Well my brother went off to be a coal miner then, that was his gap year before
they were even invented. He did go off to a very good University the year
after, the very best to be exact. So while he was a miner I was all alone in
the homework room. To break the silence I listened to a radio while I did my
homework. So love of music while I struggled with
focus the mind, I’m pleased to say I got a B.
Remember
the Ablative Absolute is like, say, remember the
Alamo.
Years later I used to go to a Folk club and see 3
bands
every week. Later still I went to a Jazz club,
mainly
Trad Jazz, so I know a good or bad musician when I
hear
one, and I know a good voice when I hear one. If
ever I
develop cancer it will be because of all the years
of
smoke while I listened to music. The idea for the
Jazz
band and Jazz funeral in The Butcher The Baker and
The
Undertaker came from all those years of music.
I love my radio so much, it was and still is a
constant
companion. Though before I got my own house I also
listened to plays on Radio 4, I can spot one from
100yards now, 20years of listening to Radio 4 before
I
took up a pen myself. But it’s music I want to tell
you
about. Music is a reservoir of emotions, past and
present. Elvis brings back memories, why? My dad
discovered Elvis in his 60s, there was a series of
Elvis
films on TV over Christmas so my dad watched them
all and
was impressed. If there was a good song on the radio
dad
would raise the volume and then lower it again when
the
other rubbish returned. Dad would be shaving in the
kitchen because the bathroom was too cold and he’d come in
the living room all lathered up and he’d say he/she has a good voice.
Me, I’m
very eclectic in my tastes though Regaee does leave me cold, its washing
machine music the same repeat motion/noise as a washing machine. Yes I know a
whole avalanche of criticism will fall on me, but as Joanne
used to say
“we are all different” so let’s agree to disagree. What’s amazing nowadays is
that lots of the music I remember is 40years old. I was young when I heard Eric
Clapton for example because of bigger brothers, so now it makes me realise I’m
getting old, being called “grandpa” by teachers when I do the school run is one
example. I tend to listen to Magic radio on my dab radio, because the music is
good and they don’t prattle over the songs. But I still am amazed at the age of
some of the music, but it’s the music that’s old, NOT ME, I still feel 20 in my
head.
Today Lady
Gaga is Queen, she has a great voice and is very pretty, ok very sexy. Her
videos are fun and she seems to know how to stay ahead of the music and other
press. You get so many wanna bes who if you listen to their voice really are
2nd rate, 1 hit wonders. I
suppose the test is, if you listen to your dab radio and hear
a voice do you want to open your eyes and poke your head out from under the
duvet. If the voice is good then you will because the dab text will tell you
who is singing. On some of the tv talent shows the voices are terrible, but
when you hear a good voice you can press record on your Sky+ remote. If my dad
was still alive he’d raise the volume on the radio to listen to Lady Gaga, if
he saw her he might think she was a modern Dorethy Lamore in a Bob Hope and
Bing Crosby Road Movie. But Gaga is already making her own Road To movies and
they really are a modern form of Art.
Michael Casey
What makes
you cry? I’ve just wiped a few tears away before I started talking to you.
Today in 11th Nov 2010, which is Remembrance day, it is also my dad’s Birthday,
he would have been 89 today.
My dad was
a man of peace who spent his life in the heat of the furnace,The District Iron
and Steel, Brasshouse Lane was where he worked for 40 years. He came over to
England in 1944, he was a blacksmith. My father was a gentle man a kind and
caring man, hew spoilt me he always got me an extra ice cream when he was on
holiday, my many siblings called me Pet because of it.
If there
was a film on tv and it was touching, my dad used to clear his throat and
pretend he was getting a cold, he move to the kitchen to dab away those tears.
Or he’d put the kettle on. My dad was very very strong, after our mum had died
he said she was strong, he said mum was as strong as a horse, the highest
compliment a blacksmith can make. My mother died in her sleep next to her
husband of nearly 50year. My brother climbed into the bed and cradled her in
his arms and tried CPR but she
was already dead. Eight weeks later, the same brother heard a
noise, it was our dad falling out of bed. My brother laid dad down on the
bedroom floor flat and started CPR, he screamed to another brother, 999.My
brother saved our dad.
I wrote all
of this down in Padre Pio and Me. The bottom line, I have a Shanghai wife and 2
bilingual daugthers all because of my brother and Padre Pio too.
When we
look at an object we have an association too, an object is not just an object
its an association too. The electrical socket for my washing machine is there
because my dad put it there, it doesn’t mean I cry every time I do the laundry,
but it does mean I smile. I have an old
barn chair with the back broken off, my mum used to
stand on it when she washed the outdoor windows, its
been
in my house nearly a quarter of a century. This
reminds
me of my mum. In fact I sat on that chair with the
old
typewriter balanced on a red stool when I wrote my
comic
novel The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, I
can
even remember when and where we bought that stool,
it
was 1973. Simple objects are full of memories and
meaning. In Citizen Kane it was Rosebud the sledge
that
meant so much when Kane died.
gaudy, so I
gave them to my mum. No doubt she used them well, she really knew how to pray.
That may have been 15 to 20 years ago, now she’s gone, but my brother said he
had a spare set of Rosary bead would I like them. So he have them to me, he
said they belonged to our mum, and yes they were the very same pair. So love
and “objects” had performed a circle. My sister’s house has white lillies
scattered all about her front garden, they only
appeared
after our mum had died. Mum had sneaked up to my sister’s house and planted
them with Love. So after she
was gone
there appeared a reminder of her and her Love. I have a speaker in the corner
of my living room, my brother used to play Cream music on it via a reel to reel
tape recorder. So that too has an association. I did in fact meet Eric Clapton
when I was working in a 4star hotel, so that in a way was a circle.
There are
many things and many lives that touch and connect with one another, such as the
lolly pop lady when you do the school run, or the nice dog tied up outside a
school waiting for the kids to finish school.There are grand gestures too, such
as in My Big Fat Greek Wedding the dad buys his daughter a house, right next
door to his
own. All this is love in many many forms and I’ve just
touched the surface. I can remember my mum crying her eyes out over a broken
wooden coat hanger, why? Because her mother had given it to her in 1944 when
she had left Kerry for England. Many things Bring On The Tears, but they are
tears of Love.
Michael Casey
Well we all
know about Teddy Roosevelt and how he could not bring himself to shoot a bear
while out hunting.
Teddy Bear
came into existence. Thousands of bears, millions of bears, probably more bears
than there are people in China have “Lived” thanks to teddy. I bought my future
wife a panda when we first met, the panda was made in China, just as she was.
In fact she used to say
I was her
Panda before she changed her mind and called me Panzi in Chinese which means
FAT FAT BOY. So that panda travelled from China to England and then back to
China, and then she brought it back home to England when she came back to me,
that’s 15,000 miles by my reckoning. My daughters have been back and forth a
few times, when you marry a Shanghai girl international travel is inevitable.
Girls just
love their teddy bears too, my smallest just adores Winnie the Pooh, she was
saying a few hours ago she wished she could have a Winnie the pooh bed and
carpet and wallpaper, basically everything that could possibly be Winnie the
Pooh. My girls have received lots of cuddly toys, teddy bears and all things
cuddly. I did
a count a while back and I stopped at 40. These toys live
behind the settee next to the vacuum cleaner and my old collection of CDs.
Every now and then my small daughter drags them out from the 3 Plastic bag
carrier bags and makes them pay attention, she plays teacher and they are her
class. She then takes the register before starting to read to them. The cuddly
toys sit up straight listening eagerly while she reads to them, she is quite a
strict teacher.
Now a while
back while the wife was tidying up the plastic bag with the cuddly toys broke
open scattering teddies everywhere. So we had to have a cull, you have to feed
fizzy pop gently to the toys until they fall asleep only to awake at the North
Pole where Santa welcomes them and makes them as good as new until they become
new toys for new owners. We had to have another cull today, my small daughter
separated the sheep from the goats so to speak. Then the unwanted toys were
placed in an Plastic bag carrier next to the front door, no
fizzy pop
for them, just a plastic bag, in the morning they will find themselves in a
charity shop soon to have new children to love them. There was one cuddly toy a
hush puppy dog that we had brought back from Florida
have
rescued him from the Plastic bag bag, he can live on top of my bedroom Dab
radio. I cannot decide what to call the dog, my new best friend, we bought it
in a shoe shop, HushPuppy maybe, or Subway the dog. We always said if we have a
real dog we’d call him subway.
Christmas
is coming so the smaller cuddly toys have been saved and will decorate our
house once Christmas gets nearer. For now my daughter has arranged them on top
of the piano, looking over my shoulder I can see, Winnie the Pooh(of course),
Tigger and another Winnie the Pooh, a snowman with bells, a cat from Shanghai
who’s chasing Minnie Mouse along the keys, it sounds like Jazz and finally
there is a smiling teddy with Christmas hat and gloves on. Well I hope the toys
find nice new homes via the Charity shop, as for me I hope HushPuppy/Subway
hasn’t left any messages on my Dab radio.
Michael Casey
Well we all
know about Teddy Roosevelt and how he could not bring himself to shoot a bear
while out hunting.
Teddy Bear
came into existence. Thousands of bears, millions of bears, probably more bears
than there are people in China have “Lived” thanks to teddy. I bought my future
wife a panda when we first met, the panda was made in China, just as she was.
In fact she used to say
I was her
Panda before she changed her mind and called me Panzi which means FAT FAT BOY.
So that panda travelled from China to England and then back to China, and then
she brought it back home to England when she came back to me, that’s 15,000
miles by my reckoning. My daughters have been back and forth a few times, when
you marry a Shanghai girl international travel is inevitable.
Girls just
love their teddy bears too, my smallest just adores Winnie the Pooh, she was
saying a few hours ago she wished she could have a Winnie the pooh bed and
carpet and wallpaper, basically everything that could possibly be Winnie the
Pooh. My girls have received lots of cuddly toys, teddy bears and all things
cuddly. I did
a count a while back and I stopped at 40. These toys live
behind the settee next to the vacuum cleaner and my old collection of CDs.
Every now and then my small daughter drags them out from the 3 Iceland carrier
bags and makes them pay attention, she plays teacher and they are her class.
She then takes the register before starting to read to them. The cuddly toys
sit up straight listening eagerly while she reads to them, she is quite a
strict teacher.
Now a while
back while the wife was tidying up the plastic bag with the cuddly toys broke
open scattering teddies everywhere. So we had to have a cull, you have to feed
fizzy pop gently to the toys until they fall asleep only to awake at the North
Pole where Santa welcomes them and makes them as good as new until they become
new toys for new owners. We had to have another cull today, my small daughter
separated the sheep from the goats so to speak. Then the unwanted toys were
placed in an Iceland carrier next to the front door, no fizzy
pop for
them, just a plastic bag, in the morning they will find themselves in a charity
shop soon to have new children to love them. There was one cuddly toy a hush puppy
dog that we had brought back from Florida years
ago neither of my girls liked it, but I do so I have rescued
him from the Iceland bag, he can live on top of my bedroom Dab radio. I cannot
decide what to call the dog, my new best friend, HushPuppy maybe, or Subway the
dog.
Christmas
is coming so the smaller cuddly toys have been saved and will decorate our
house one Christmas gets nearer. For now my daughter has arranged them on top
of the piano, looking over my shoulder I can see, Winnie the Pooh(of course),
Tigger and another Winnie the Pooh, a snowman with bells, a cat from Shanghai
who’s chasing Minnie Mouse along the keys, it sounds like Jazz and finally
there is a smiling teddy with Christmas hat and gloves on. Well I hope the toys
find nice new homes via the Charity shop, as for me I hope HushPuppy/Subway
hasn’t left any messages on my Dab radio.
By
Michael Casey
The girls
were singing at a Wedding Yesterday morning, they came home telling us about
the bride and groom. They also heard that there was a fireworks display that
night. They asked could they go, so I said yes if they behaved. They behaved
all afternoon, so at half past six I nagged them top put on full winter gear,
hat, coat, scarf and gloves. They wouldn’t believe me that it would be that
cold outside but I explained it would. So reluctantly
they put
all the layers on. The witch as we call my wife drove up to the firework
display. It was behind the church where they had been singing a few hours
earlier. My wife, or the witch said she’d collect us a few hours later, she
said I could ring her. Only I had forgotten to bring the mobile phone, I have
only acquired a mobile phone this year and I don’t really know how to use it,
an I don’t really want it either, its for emergencies, its
on the Asda
tariff because that’s the cheapest. Its my wife’s 1st phone. Anyway we said
goodbye and we went to watch the firework show.
Only there was a problem, the price to attend was
too
didn’t think it was worth it anyway. So we stood on
the
pavement in front and to one side of the church.
From
that vantage point we enjoyed the fireworks display,
a
bit like watching tv though your neighbours window.
There
were a few other families who did the same. So we
watched the fireworks while my 9 year old filmed it
on
our old digital camera, she was very pleased with
her
efforts. I promised them we’d buy sweets and pop to
make
up for not
seeing the fireworks display officially. My girls understood and after 20mins
of illegal watching of fireworks we started to walk home. As I had forgotten
the phone we’d have to walk and not get a lift from mum. But I do know how to
improvise, it’s a gift I do have.
We stopped
at the 1st sweet shop and they roamed around, but girls being girls they could
not make up their minds, so they left that sweet shop with nothing. Now from
the
church to our house is a good 25min walk and is
twisty
and curvy and runs alongside the woods at Warley Woods
and golf course. So as its was the Eve of Halloween
I
asked them did they want to walk through the dark
woods.
No they both said, but I knew they would like it so
we
crossed on the crossings which cross the race track
of a
road. The boldly we went a few yards into the dark dark
woods. We were only there for a minute but it was a good thing to do so close
to Halloween. Then we crossed back to the safer side of the road. My smallest
daughter wanted a rest so we stopped at a bus stop and sat on the plastic
seats, I told them that I had a bus pass, would they like me to leave them
there while I jumped on the bus.
After a
couple of minutes rest we resumed our trek back, were we like the Von Trapp
family, no Swiss mountains for us, only the long and winding road. The kids
could see the retaining wall of their school, from that point on, even in the
dark they knew their way home. Spirits lifted I had an idea. My big daughter’s
friend lived just down the road on a side road. So when we were outside her friend’s
house we did ghostly noises, just like in Michael Jackson’s Thriller. I thought
I made the best screams. Sadly no lights went on in the house, not unless we
had given her nan a heart attack. Further down the road by the light of a front
room we could see a child in a witches Hat he was pretending to be a witch. It
turned out that he was a friend of my other daughter, this was too good an
opportunity to miss, so again we made ghost and ghoul
noises. The child inside lifted the curtain to check was the
devil outside, no it was only us. My big daughter laughed and laughed when she
say his face appear, she hid beneath the high retaining front wall and then ran
laughing to use further down the road.
We went to
Thimbermill and got our chocolate and Dr Pepper, we had had some fun after all.
My small daughter had said when we were in the dark dark park that she had seen
a cross, we were in a graveyard. I think it was the support posts for a
sapling, not unless it was….
Finally
home we decided to scare mum, our resident witch, so my big daughter did her
big scream and she managed to scare the neighbours over the road, but mum had
the last laugh, she was sitting in dark watching a Chinese movie on the
internet so when we entered the house she scared us.
Well that’s
how we enjoyed our Saturday night. Tonight 31st Oct 2010 we had several trick
or treats at the door, so I just screamed back I’m dead,” followed by my best
Vincent Price scream/laugh. But the kids and parents weren’t impressed. Today
does mark an anniversary, its 11years since I was made redundant from CAN been
a few varied years, and best of all I have two daughters whom I
I
did actually bust my armchair the other day. My kids do sit on the arm rests
with me while we watch films, Camp Rock, High School Musical etc for the
zillionth time.
My wife
used to sit on my lap in my rocking chair, the rocking chair lasted 18 years.
So the current armchair may be 6 years old. I was lucky with the rocking chair
because it was part of a suite, in fact it was the only reason I bought the
suite. As for the current armchair it was part of a suite too but the customer
did not want it so I picked it up cheap for £45, yes only £45. All my girls do
squeeze onto it while they watch Phoenix TV, now the bottom has fallen out of
the chair, we've had to put a big cushion under the seat of the chair. So
that'll do until we can save up for a new armchair. I had a quick look in two
furniture shops and its £200 plus just for a single armchair. I will go back to
the same furniture shop where I picked up my bargain 6 years ago, but I'm not
holding my breath.
Rocking
chairs are great and I'd love to have another furnished rocking chair, perhaps
I could be a rocking chair tester, or the NHS could send me one of their new
vibrating chairs. A good chair is a thing of beauty in
itself, and the rocking is very soothing too, and with a nice drink in your
hand then that is poetry in itself. Cue Queen's Song We Will Rock You.
When our
dog long ago broke its pelvis he was saved by the vet, and we placed him in our
dad's old armchair when the dog came home. When our dad came home from the
steelworks the poor dog got out of the armchair because he knew it was dad's
chair, I remember it so well. Our cat used to enjoy an armchair too, soft and
cosy, she'd fall asleep purring like a Jaguar car.
So the
point of all this musing? Enjoy your armchair, because your kids and wife and finally
grandkids love that chair too, in one object you capture the word family.
p.s. cross your fingers so I find a cheap
replacement
Michael
www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
I just read
a piece in this morning’s DT it was about the Vatican’s newspaper and the
Simpsons.
The DT
comment button did not work so I’ve written this piece instead.
Shakespeare
touches all of us, once we learn or are taught how to understand it. It may
mean a West Side story experience. It may mean Shakespeare in Love or a modern
version with Leonardo di Caprio.
But it is all Shakespeare, yes I know the literati
will
moan as the
always do, but underneath it is Shakespeare. It’s the universality of it, www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com for my stuff, more like an Ealing Comedy. But back to
today the Vatican/Jesuit take
on the
Simpsons. My girls tease and say I’m like the dad in the Simpsons, I tell them
I’m much much slimmer. Comedy pokes fun and draws us closer together as we
laugh at what’s happening, and a big part is laughing at
others’
suffering, PC people will spin in their graves, and the soon the better.
There was a really good series on tv about
Shakespeare
and how he could have been a secret Catholic amongst other
things, not to mention his eclectic background, he could touch bases with so
many things because of his life experience. So the Simpsons touch bases with us
because it highlights the worst in us all, and then we laugh at ourselves,
there is no “I couldn’t possibly be like
that”
because we ARE like that. I suppose in the New Testament the common touch in
the language/life draws us towards the Divine, The Simpsons could it be called
the common man’s Bible? I don’t know, you’ll have to read more of the Bible and
watch more of the Simpsons. And ask the Jesuits who write the Vatican
newspaper, me I’m going to find my deck of cards you may remember the song.
By
Michael Casey
Which way
do you look? I’m thinking of this because it’s an anniversary today, so it got
me thinking. I also heard today about the funeral arrangements for our old
priest, he was the priest who came to the house to
confirm
that our mum was indeed dead, when my dad saw him enter the house with my
brother and sister my dad started
to cry. So now we cry for that priest.
Events make
you look this way and make you look that way. Events touch us and pain us,
events make us laugh and make us sigh. Today in Chile the whole nation screams in
celebration, to be honest the whole world smiles too, we are the world.
When you
look in a mirror which way do you look? If you are a girl or a lady you look at
your body and wonder is it as you want it to be. Is your hair good this way or
that way, do those clothes really suit you or should you take them back to the
shop to exchange them, you’ve tried
20
things to match them but they just don’t work with
your wardrobe. Yes you’ll take them back, I mean your mirror is so much better
than the one in the shop, and
Men
look in mirrors for 2 seconds as they drag the comb through their hair, they
never seem to notice the stubble on their chins, or the paint on their jumpers,
they shame their wives.
Do you look
forward or do you look backward? It depends on how your life is doing. If you’re
on the dole with no hope you may look backward to when you had a job and the
money that went with it. You’re afraid to look ahead it’s looking into the
gloom, it’s like the Titanic, all fog
and mist.
Some take refuge in drink or worse, glass ½ full or glass ½ empty, or maybe the
glass is just not big enough. Your prospective influences how you cope with
things.
You can
look forward by looking at the property pages on www.rightmove.co.uk if only
you get more money then you’ll move house, even if it would really be a lottery
win amount of money. You can look forward more realistically by looking at
Argos and Currys and comet and do some window shopping for the things you
really need to replace once the money comes in again. A new cooker perhaps, a
new living room carpet, perhaps a fridge, or just upgrade the central heating
boiler. All
I look back
a fair bit, because I have lots of memories and spent a lot of time with my dad
in his good years and his fading years in the old people’s home, you can find
out more by reading Padre Pio and Me on www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com I have
almost total recall for my family events. I’m the one who remembers all the family
growing up things. When my brother went to University he bought our little
sister a tricycle, it was
£5, that
was good use of student grant, over 40 years ago. Now my own daughter has
ambitions to go to that University. My younger daughter had a tricycle too, I
got it as a gift from a toy show that passed through a hotel where I was
working a few years ago.
I think
having memories is good, it certainly means I have material to write about,
growing up with lodgers for example. I look back with love and think just much
love we got from our parents. “You are as good as anybody” is what I can
remember my mum saying, proud and defiant she was, for her love was a nuclear
weapon. Mothers know how to use nuclear weapons, their love really is that
powerful. I
have an idea for Tears For A Butcher my 3rd book, if ever I get to write it.
As I look
from my window I see the blue blue sky. Birds dive and soar better than any
circus acrobat, they are painting a picture with their wings. Tiny tiny whisps
of white cloud remain, like left over candy floss on a childs face, like white
whiskers on a very old woman’s face.
Curtains
are pulled open and windows are inched open too, daylight and fresh air to
bedrooms shuttered down against a cold winters night. People stand and yarn and
scratch too as they struggle to wake up fully. Then one or two realise they don’t
wear any pyjamas so they hurry away from their windows, their wives, their
husbands, their lovers laughing at their stupidity. At least old Mrs Jones may
have had a thrill.
The sounds
of morning, of daylight rise. Slowly the sound of the milk float, the sounds of
milk bottles clinking together as the milkman does his rounds, this way and
that. The sound of of Mrs Murphy walking her dog, the dog panting in the cold
winters air. He doesn’t have a sheepskin coat to keep him warm. He has his own
fur coat but this winter is a cold one, so Goldie the dog could do with an
extra coat too.
People dance down their door steps to their car, nagging
children to hurry up as its cold. Children write their name in the frost on
their neighbours’ cars before being told off. John the neighbourhood jogger
rushes past, the kids stick their tongue out at him, he does the same, they all
laugh, only for John to miss his stride slip on
an
icy patch and fall to the ground hurting his elbow as he does so. Still
laughing the kids get in the car and are taken off to see grandpa, John is
rubbing his elbow and his bum as he gets ups gingerly.
The lads, we are so hard, appear from their homes to
noisily attack the day, Sunday is for shouting, but
not
too loud, as they have headaches and hangovers, did
they
really chat up that ugly fat girl, but they gave her
his
brother’s mobile number and not his own. They stride
off
to the news agent for The News Of The World, just
for the
sports pages, their mums can read the scandal
section and
the horoscopes.
One or two
black people wearing their Sunday best pass by on their way to church, a
throwback to decades before when people still went to church and when people
still wore their Sunday best. People used to dress up to go to the theatre too,
but now, but now.
day, coffee with milk and no sugar, the way English
people have coffee, not the American way, just the
soft
English way. My kids want toast and peanut butter,
or
cheese on toast, so my 3 slices of toast become one
slice
of toast as I feed my girls. I nag them to put
slippers
and socks on, yes we have nice carpet but in the
winter’s
weather they are always getting colds, so I nag
them, I
nag them. My wife nags them in Chinese too, or
Shanghai
dialect. The phone rings, its Germany calling, or
rather
my wife’s best friend who’s calling from Germany,
the
cackle or hens, of chickens clucking is the noise
these 2
Shanghai girls make, as they talk in Shanghai, when
are
we coming back to Germany is the message. Cluck
cluck
cluck.
The sky has
changed the blue has changed to grey, will the snow return, it’s been a snowy
winter over here in Birmingham, some parts of the country have had the worse
weather in 20years. The children have quietened down, my wife has relented and
put a nature program on the tv for them. As for me I was going to try and write
a poem but instead you see what’s before you. I’m half listening to Mike and
The Mechanics a cd I’ve loaded to the computer,
I spent the
afternoon with my friendly atheist he was condemning God, he thought God
existed but only as a bad and evil thing. He assumed a lot about my faith, and
was wrong about it and me. Now should I bother to try and convert him? Should I
point him in the direction of his local church where he could find himself a
nice wife. Do people go to church to finds wives, now that's another question.
Or should I let him carry on until he stumbled over his own direction. I did
explain how I stood by my fridge and asked God to intervene in my life, my 3
wishes so to speak, its in my essay Padre Pio and Me on my
site. And
then as if by magic I met my Shanghai wife. However atheists put themselves in
a box, a cold steel box and throw away the key, and they are not Houdini's who
can escape, they are like collapsed dead stars deep in the cold of space.
Does family
make us believe in God? Wishing for a family was one of my 3 wishes. I got all
my luck in one go is what my Kerry cousins say. You ask for anything will do
and you get the best, better than all the rest as the song goes.
THe autumn leaves fall and Life will soon die,
winter
will come and cold will desend, but in the spring there will
be growth as Chance the gardener. How to plant a seed where there is forever
autumn as another song goes. How do you plant a seed in an atheist's heart does
he have to suffer a dark night of the soul before like a caterpillar he emerges
as a beautiful butterfly? Its a difficult question especially when I got my
faith at the nipple. Others of many faiths learnt their faith when they were
toddlers, the trendy I'll wait till they grow
up so they
can decide for themselves always strikes me as child neglect of the worst sort.
Christmas is a happy time full of innocence and
hope,
perhaps I should drag my friend to Midnight Mass and
let
him hear carols, silent night holy night. When we
sing
and remember our family members who have gone ahead.
Should I make him look up at the stars overhead
twinkling
to eternity, for there is always hope. Hope springs
Eternal.
Words are
for what? Conversation, a chat, gossip, juicy gossip, a quiet word, a stern
word, a protest, a scream, a shout, a murmur, whispers, a buzz or just plain
old prattle.
Today the
news is full of the Labour Party, much is being said and not said, how will the
future be, will they the brothers bury the hatchet, do they wish to bury the
hatchet in one another’s head. Are they both lying about everything? Or are
they both champions of truth. One thing is certain the Tories just love this
result.
Political
reporters just love it too, those politic al reporters are prettier nowadays
too, I remember when I was a child it was just Robin Day in his dickybow
talking to other men about politics. I once saw Robin Day in the street, he was
a really fast walker. Now Robin Day was great with words, he could and would
call somebody a
%%%$$%^&&
to their face but he used such elegant words, it would be an honour to be
dumped on by him. Robin Day’s most famous quote was “Some here today gone
tomorrow politician.” He said that to Sir John Knott when the Falklands War
kicked off, John Knott walked off set. At
Words
though do have so much strength. Hitler knew this, and look what happened.
Other evil leaders did the same thing, pick your own despot.
Sometimes
all it takes is a word and things can be healed. Sorry is the hardest word to
say as the song goes. Kids play in the playground and harsh words are said,
kids are cruel is what any teacher will tell you. “Take it back” is another
catchphrase, then you have to say the magic formula of words and all is healed.
Or is it? With kids in the playground, or between brother and sister yes,
hopefully. But with international relations? Pick your own dispute.
Love songs
have so much power, or certain words can tickle us and make us smile, or make
us angry. When I was in Shanghai in 2000 meeting the family at one dinner a
13year old boy was proud to sing a song he knew in English, Michael Row the
boat ashore. He grew whiskers on his chinagin the wind came out and blew them
in again. The Chinese boy was so proud. It was the same song that my brothers
and sisters used to sing to me to make me cry. I think I laughed in 2000. In
2007 at another
dinner I met him again, he asked did I remember him, he was
now as big as myself. Of course I remembered him, how could I forget that song
and the association. I told the Chinese lad to keep up with the English and do
Law at Uni. I was working at a law firm at the time.
A way a
woman dresses has a lot of power over a man, it leads to the power of love. The
way a man dresses has power over a woman, a fireman for example. The way a man
undresses has power over a woman too, the Chippendales or The Full Monty…..
But back to words, if they are not matched by action
then
they are like steam coming off a coffee on a train,
just
evaporating into nothingness. A few simple words
with
action attached is better than a hurricane for
blowing
inaction away. My last uncle died recently and after
the
funeral his son in law said “He didn’t say much but
when
he did it was worth listening to.” He was a quiet
man,
but he was loved so much, and his words were worth
their
weight in gold.
Kids need
good parents, friends we choose for ourselves, your families you get anyway.
I'm lucky I had great parents. Faith does help, but kids get bigger and decide
for themselves if their parents were talking rubbish or were worth listening
too. Kids travel and find their own way home to their faith and their families.
Elastic is very important in relationships and faith. If you try to keep things
set in stone then you will be in for a fall. Nothing is set in stone,
friendships change and alter and our own understandings change and alter. Have
a bit of elastic in your life is my best advice. You are not in an army and
getting up at 5am and doing all the marching and so forth. Yes have discipline
and rules, but be aware IF you force somebody to do something when they have
the chance to rebel then they will. You cannot chain anybody to you or your
faith, brainwashing is a bad idea, listen
to the Genesis song Jesus we know him.......So you
bind
your
family and friends and faith to you by cobwebs of love and nothing stronger
than cobwebs of love. Love should be like that its a cobweb of love, also be
happy to have a Prodigal Son in your life, happy because you will always
welcome them back. If you're lucky you'll
By
Michael Casey
Today's blog is
inspired by
what I saw through the window. And what did I see? Well you may have all seen
The Quiet Man with John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara. In it a spare bike is “carried”
by somebody already riding one. It no doubt takes great skill.
It wasn't
that I saw but something much more intriguing, I say a man on a bike carrying a
mirror under his arm. Not the newspaper, but a real mirror, a 3.5foot one under
his right arm. He also had it mirror side out, so no doubt several car drivers
would have been dazzled. Later on as I sat here at the computer I saw him
again, this time he had an ironing board under his arm, at least the legs
weren't sticking out. He just pedalled past. I
was
wondering what would happened next. I was thinking it was nearly time to
collect the girls from school when he came walking past carrying a heavy bundle
on his shoulder.
As we
walked home I told my girls what I'd noticed, I always try and teach them to be
observant, such as seeing
the new trendy sign over the help the aged charity shop
today. And as we walked home why the policeman had got out of the panda car
near the bank, to go to the cash point and then go to Subway for his sandwich.
I explained
to my girls that the man on the bike must be moving house, but he didn't have a
car so he was DIY moving with the aid of a bike. My mother once put on all
her clothes
and then walked home to Cromane Kerry because she had no suitcase so she wore
everything. Her mum had belted her for her stupidity, this would be in the
1930s. I encouraged my daughter to use the bike man as a story
for her next English lesson, she said it was not her
style. Then as we closed the front door, who did we
see?
The man on his bike with a mixing desk under his
arm, my
daughter laughed, but her little sister had the last
laugh, she'd found the chocolate biscuits.
So what can
I say, I hope that if ever we move house, if ever I sell my 3 books then I hope
we can at least have a van to transport our things. Or perhaps I could self
upgrade from a bicycle removal service to a bus removal service, I do have a
bus pass after all. www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
By
Michael Casey
What is
Faith? We are told in one Bible passage that if a man can do many things yet
there is no Love then man has achieved nothing. I remember this being read at
grammar school at the morning assembly. . Sorry if I cannot quote
it
verbatim. I'd come home from work and my dad would be sitting down in the
living room his dinner on a chair so
he could
watch the news, he'd have the first bite raised to his mouth. I'm not hungry
he'd say and offer me his dinner. This is love. Another time, another shift
pattern. I'd come home at 11p. Dad would wait up to see me before he'd go to
bed, he'd be up at 5am for his work the next morning. This is the standard I'm
used to, I'll do the same for my own children. Its normal, it’s obvious. To me
anyway. My mother used to watch Dallas on tv after she'd fed all her children,
one hand in her
apron as
she watched tv. Only the hand always jumped in her pocket, she was saying the
rosary while she watched tv. Very Irish, very motherly. Very normal, the
standard I got used to. Countless mothers the world over do the same. They may
be Christians, they may be of a multitude
of different Faiths, yet one thing in common. Love, love of
God, love of family, love of children . And do we thank our parents for this
love? If we didn't and now our parents our gone, then do we live with regret
all our lives . No, this would be folly. We can thank our parents and our God
by being good parents, by trying to copy the good example shown to us . I met
my wife in the retirement home where my dad lived after his near fatal heart
attack, which happened 8 bare weeks after my mother died in her sleep. My dad
lived long enough for me to meet/marry and have a granddaughter. As I gaze on
my daughter's face I often say "thank you". Thank You to God for
allowing me a wife and for having a daughter. An extremely beautiful daughter,
healthy and funny. I have to show the moon to my daughter because she thinks it’s
so pretty, she loves stars too , not yet 22months old and
she knows
the wonder of creation . As I look upwards and see the cold beauty of space I
know how lucky I am. I know how lucky I am. Lucky enough to cry, which I do on
occasions. My tears are my humble thanks and praise of God. I have a family.
July 96, mom was gone 2 months, and dad was now given 1 week to live. So after
3years of constant visits to the seniors home I met my wife, my
Shanghai China. So yes I cry in the dark of the night as I
look up at the stars . I am a lucky man, because I had good parents, I know I
did . I hope everybody could be as lucky as me .....
well I hope
this reads ok , I couldn't think of any poetry , I just hope telling it plain
catches the spirit
,
the spirit of love . One word, one look, one sigh, one
flicker of the eyes, each of these is a prayer, a deep prayer . A prayer of
hope, pray, hope and don't worry is a motto I try to live by that’s all the
advice I can give
A new home
computer is an event. You think how quick it will be. You prepare by backing up
your files, but you have so many of them. Then you have email accounts and
favourite sites and so forth. You think you've thought of everything but you
haven't. BUT you do have a safety net, you've emailed your important files to
yourself, in fact you have a couple of email accounts so your stuff can be
safe. Only you forget the passwords.
I'm sure
we've all done it. Luckily the nice folks at Google can help. But then there is
GMX can they fix it too?
Then you
get 60 day trial of software from Norton which features an online backup, so
your files are safe on a server in the USA.
So I had
loaded our family photos to the new PC and then deleted them from the memory
stick thing.
So that was
ok, only I then lost them from the new PC. So I have to rely on Norton, only
there's a glitch, I can
see my
files on their Server but I cannot restore them to my PC. It may just be I need
to click somewhere I cannot see. So I send an email to Norton, that’s a couple
of hours ago, but I'm sure those guys are just as nice
Have I
learnt my lesson. Yes, buy 2 memory sticks and don't delete anything.
Footnote I
first used a computer back in 1978, DEC PDP 1170s but then computers were as
big as washing machines and dealt in megabites and tape decks were as big as
wardrobes.
p.s.
Windows7 is fab and the lads at Comet are very very professional
By
Michael Casey
Well my
daughter only has 2 more years in primary school, year 5 is what they call it.
So my Shanghai wife is pushing her to learn maths, 11plus beckons next year.
I remember
I was called the "Ready Reckoner" by the lady in the butcher’s shop,
Marsh and Baxters. The shop had a variety of changes over the past 45 years but
now it is once more a butchers, a halal one. I was 8 or younger at the time me
and my mum would go to the butchers and buy the meat for the 8 of us, sawdust
was on the floor in those days. The lady in the shop would write down all the
separate items on a piece of paper using her pencil. Then she’d try to add them
up, remember it was pounds shillings and pence in those days. 12 pence to a
shilling,
and 20 shilling to the pound, 240 pence in one pound. If you did not know your
12 times tables then you’d be lost. Mr Gallagher my old school teacher
threatened us for months with a times table test. He sprung it on us and the
result was 4 of the best, a pump on my bum. The next time he tested us I was
perfect. So with a stinging bum as a reminder I was red hot as far at
We always
paid the right price for our meat, the tills were huge monsters in those days
with big symbols appearing in a glass window, watch Ronnie Barker in Open All
Hours and you’ll see one.
Now how do
you teach division to a 9 year old. Well my wife starts in Shanghai dialect,
then I interrupt in English giving a metaphor or two, upside down stair is how
I explain. Then we jump on Utube and you get lessons galore, 360 maths lessons
is what I hear. Though its American so is Math lessons, I was boasting as they
explained long division that I had shown our daughter the correct way, but
Utube had another set in the upside down steps, by basically I was right. I
then reassured our daughter if she did 100 examples then she’d get it. If
you know
how to multiply then you know how to divide. More encouragement is given in
Shanghai dialect. As for our daughter she heads for her room and Galaxy on her
DAB radio, perhaps if she counts the stars in the Galaxy then she’ll have her
head for maths.
Three of my
family went to University, and it was called University then not Uni. They
worked very hard to get there. Me I went to work and later discovered the OU,
after I discovered I could write. I also spent 3years
at a 4star
deluxe business hotel. So I’m thinking should I set myself up as a tutor and
teach “Car park cleaning and security patrolling a combined course” or “Concierge
skills with smile techniques” or “Housekeeping with combined Laundry services” “Reception
skills with added Switchboard techniques”. I was a close runner up as Employee
Of The Year so I could charge more. Perhaps I could teach “Acceptance of
Rejection, a multi discipline course for Writers and Playwright and Poets”
I’d just
love for somebody to take me under their wing and give me a grant, I’ve written
a comic novel The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, I’ve written a play
that will be a hit, Shoplife is its name and its very topical, its about a store
about to close. I’ve got another book called Essays and Plays which is just
that. Finally Tears For A Butcher is my 3rd book which I'm still writing. I did
try and get a grant from the
Rockefeller Foundation but no joy, perhaps I’m too old or too
working class. Perhaps I should try Getty Foundation, who knows, I do know my
play Shoplife could be turned on its head to teach Customer Service, all I need
is a Dragon, I did try that too but no luck.
Perhaps I should go on the X files and read a few
poems
or speed
read from my book, like the Reduced Shakespeare Company. I did meet thousands
of people while I worked at a hotel and many were amused by my Tales. Tales
from Old Forge and Singing Anvil www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com is where my
stuff lives in cyber space. I am no Blacksmith like my father but I always
followed his maxim “Do what you like, BUT do your best.”
By
Michael Casey
Well my
mouse is drunk, I did see the warning signs and I hoped and prayed that it
would get back to the straight and narrow, but it did not. The mouse is a
drunkard and that’s all there is to it, its not that I live in a
windmill
with the sails producing electricity for our home our windmill home. It would
have been just fine if the mouse wore clogs and did a bit of break dancing.
Living in a windmill would be fun too.
I am of
course talking about a computer mouse, not any Nick Park creation. Our computer
was waving goodbye as you can see by my previous post, but now the mouse was
joining the strike in sympathy, all for one and one for all.
Can you
remember the last time you were on a double decker bus up stairs and drunk?I
can remember being on the Metro in Paris Feb 1998 drunk and very happy, but
that’s another story. So picture that in your mind and that’s just how my mouse
is behaving. Scrolling and jumping and highlighting galore, could be like a
scene from an old film, Easy Rider perhaps, and yes I remember
seeing that at the cinema, 2pound a week pocket money so I
could go to the cinema at the Grove. You think you can master a silly little
mouse but you cannot, it’s like a jockey verses a giant, the jockey is wiry and
nimble so
its very
hard to catch him and lay a punch on him. Exactly how it is between me and my
mouse. I was trying to do a few things before the new needed replacement
computer arrived, but it was a battle of wills and the mouse, the computer
mouse was winning. I need to renew my house insurance so I thought I could do
this online. I had rung up my existing insurance company and they immediately
offered a 40% discount! But it was still cheaper to change so I had been
looking online, but with the mouse playing up it was like being in an Irish Pub
on Saint Patrick’s day, one giant jelly mass of people, me and the mouse were
just like that. Finally I had to give up I was getting seasick. 4 of us use
this computer and
the mouse
has been battered for years, so now it was time to put it out of its misery,
the only decision was whether to bury the mouse in an old shoe box or just cut
off its tale and give it to the with. kids to play
By
Michael Casey
We are
having a baby, after much though and heartache we have decided to have a baby,
it will be our 3rd. Now in Google search that’ll be condensed so everybody will
be mislead until they click and read the full version. Yes
we are having a baby, and yes it will be our 3rd,
but not
a baby
baby, which would indeed be our 3rd. No we are not trying for a boy after
having two girls, we are just
having a
3rd baby, I mentioned it to my eldest daughter on my way back with a coffee in
my hand, she said it wouldn’t be a 3rd baby, it would be a 4th baby, or even a
5th baby. You see we had a new Tv after ours gave up the ghost after 16 years,
so the new Toshiba was a baby, and our new noisy whistling kettle was a baby
too. What I’m really saying is that our computer has reached the age when it
should be replaced. The baby I’m on about is a new Emachine computer, a baby
computer because it should be so much smaller than the original one from over 7
years ago. Best of all it was on offer, 200 off. If it
wasn’t
on offer it would have stayed in the shop, but we really need our computer so
thankfully a cheap one has
As for our
current Emachine that’ll find a new home with somebody who had our last old
baby, a tradition is forming, he has our old cache which saves him cash. Its
nice if you can recycle things, and I’m sure our friend will spruce it up to
make it better than we had it. I
know
somebody who has a computer who has never done a disc cleanup, but that’s
another story. As for us I now have to backup our old files, can you imagine
how many 1000 photos you take when you have a young children; you have to send
them to grandma in Shanghai and friends in Toyko and Taiwan and Singapore, and
the most exotic Stourbridge and Reading and Frankfurt. You do have some on the
family website but now as change is in the air you must backup everything, you
cannot lose your children’s childhood snaps.
Yesterday I
looked at USB sticks they can be pretty expensive, finally I worked out how
much stuff we just had to backup and move. Play.com turned out to have the best
offer for 16gig flash security. Lets hope it’s a simple as I think it is to
back things up, I have 14gig
of stuff to
backup. As you can imagine I have to keep my other babies safe, my stories my
writing, which are
dreams in themselves. I had them on floppy discs scattered
all around my house. I do have my site www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com so my “masterpieces”
will survive fire and floor and even nuclear war as the are on a server on a
different continent. However I still need
them on my
new baby computer my new Emachine, so my 16gig flash storage will have a
mission. There is one thing to remember though I remember somebody saying if
you don’t dismount/unload you media properly then you lose what’s
on the
flash media. Well I’ll find out about that soon enough, Wednesday will be my
security day.
Then once everything is safely loaded I can breath a
sigh
of relief. But what else do you have to do once you
have
your new baby, your new computer. Get connected to
the
Internet, without being swamped by viruses because
you
forgot to get an anti virus program. Set up accounts
on
the computer, I have my side and my wife has her
side.
With a Shanghai wife though I get stray Chinese
characters appearing on our current computer, and
strange
things have happened. So I need to keep a clear head
while I get
things as I want them to be, however give it a fortnight and China will have
invaded my side of the computer and stolen all the duvet. I still dream of
Michael Casey
Where do
the tears go when they are shed While I lie here crying on my bed Do the tears
drip drip away and seep thoughThe floorboards and head for the sea. Do my tears
join an ocean that rises and falls Do the tears yell and scream but only sea
farers Hear them, do whales moan as they crash through them Only whales know of
my distress as my tears groan In deep deep oceans in the unknown dark deep
seas.
Do my tears head north to the North Pole and Santa
Does
Santa Ho Ho Ho so much because he is trying to drown
Out The cries and sobs and tears held back for so
many
years. Do tears form ice shelves and become
icebergs,
silent and majestic Like giant cathedrals of ice. Is
this
the way to silent the voice of tears. Frozen in Time
for
100s of years, the fears of today and yesterday are
Merged As one, gagged for eternity in an ice
cathedral. Will everything be forgot, deep freezed,
quick
frozen like garden peas.
Do my tears
evaporate and head for the sky, joining the clouds as they pass by. Are my
tears blown this way and
that, are they taken far away over the ocean. As planes pass
through the clouds that are my tears, can the passengers hear Can the
passengers hear my tears, all my hopes and fears, or are my tears Drowned out
by the in flight movie, 007 killing my prayers to heaven.
Do my tears
wash away my pain, my guilt, are they like mothers’ milk? For tears touch us
all, they are like a morning mist that shrouds us. For tears are the dark dark
night of the soul, a cold coat that covers us. In the morning we remember we
fell asleep crying, but what of now? Now we’ve looked at our dead mum’s photo
and think of what she would have said. We smile as we remember, her fight, her
love, her spirit, her smile. But never tears,
she shed no
tears for us, she shed no tears for us. Tears will come, tears will come again,
but they are just
water, we
are stronger Than mere water, we have a boat and that boat is Love.
****Well I
dug this out from my PC I wrote it a year ago...Michael
Well I hope
you are all fine this morning. For us the Sat Nav debate continues.
In the old
days a Black Taxi would not be seen using an AtoZ, it was beneath his dignity.
He'd done the Knowledge and it was all up there in his head. Jack Rozenthal
wrote a great play about it, was it 30years ago? Maureen Lipman was his real
wife.
Delivery
drivers have and egg and bacon butty in one hand dripping egg on to the AtoZ in
their other hand while they try and deliver a chest of drawers, with 5 days
growth of beard for good measure.
Bus
drivers know their route, so once they've done it a while its automatic, they
know what they are doing. All they have to do is put up with kids trying to use
a 3 day old ticket, and not get too high from all the cannabis on the bus. Or
remember when they have switched routes because that can lead to strange
directions.
Door to
door salesmen all those years ago, with the rap at tat tat on the back door had
their route carrying the suitcase with samples in. I can vaguely remember one
at our back door did my mum buy a clothes brush? But that
So basically we all know what we want and where we
are
going. Going further back they say people only knew
a
six block radius around their home. Going to War
changed
all that as did radio and then more importantly tv.
Tv
being our eyes on the world, previous to that only
Merchant Seaman knew of the world. My own granddad
was a
merchant seaman, I sometimes wonder did he ever get
to
Shanghai
Or was it
me, his grandson who got there first. Had he visited at the turn of the
19th/20th Century 100years and more ago.
Which
brings us back to Sat Nav. Me I use a bus which is fine apart from the pot
heads who sit next to you on the bus and all I want to do is puke. My wife is a
car driver, so she and our girls love the car. But my wife has borrowed a Sat
Nav and likes the ease of it so now she wants one of her own. The result is
that I’m being nagged to provide one. You pay, me pay, yes you pay, why me pay,
because you are the husband so you pay, no way me pay, you pay you pay
yourself, I say. And on the ding
dong, sing
song goes. Which is the fun part. Me I no pay, use computer I say. You can get
perfect directions off
the computer all you then have to do is print them off, if
our printer was still working we’d be doing that. So really all the wife has to
do is copy them down, in English.
She’s busy
with the wok as I talk to you, she’s compromised now, she only wants me to pay
half. So I say I’ll be doubly generous and double the share I won’t pay, I’ll
pay zero and she can pay 100%. That’s the true
spirit of
negotiation, now I have another thing to resolve, she’s blocked the sink, so
pardon me now as I take the plunge, or rather take the plunger to the sink, no
need to use a Sat Nav to get there, its over my shoulder in the next room, just
turn left at the tv and go straight on to the sound of bubbles. Love is
everywhere don’t you know it, just find it, no Sat Nav required.
By
Michael Casey
I just read
in the Sunday paper that soon they’ll be able to read my mind, everybody’s
mind. A computer firm is scanning brains so that in future you can control your
computer with just a thought.
“Where do
you do to my lovely when you’re alone and in your bed, tell me the thoughts
that surround you” as Peter Sarstead sung in the old and very good song.* Now
the song was a great song, perhaps they’ll play it on Magic again soon.
But our
thoughts are private like the sunglasses of our mind. They ring fence our brain
and keep strangers out, they hide our boredom when at Company events, the same
speech and the same director laughing at his own jokes while as one we all
think “what a plonker”. A whole hall wishing he’d stop so we could get on with
the entertainment, free bar and circus.
Politicians lie, we all think they do, and if we
could
read
their minds we’d all throw cabbages at them, or eggs or just manifestos. We
heard what Gordon really though of that lady and it helped lose the Election
for him. Then
the apology shambles, you can’t take back something like
that. If somebody could read Gordon’s mind they would have dived in to save him
before he even said it. Politicians need to be clear but they never are. Why
have clarity when you can have deniability. Let’s just wish Gordon a good
relaxing next 5 years.
But what of
you and what of me. You see a girl, you see a boy, you’ve got your shades on,
you take a good hard look, the object of your attention cannot see your eyes,
you try and look cool and not move your head an inch. But you lust after him,
you lust after her. Choose your own words as to what you are thinking, or are
you lusting. Well they’ll never know because they cannot read your mind. But if
they could, they’d be a few slapped faces that’s for sure. Or they’d be a few
sudden snogs in doorways and in bus shelters or on the top decks of buses. And
all because we can read each other’s minds. Perhaps in the future the gismo to
read minds would be attached to your shades, so you’d look cool while they
drool.
What
about your mum if she could read your mind? She’d be sending you to bed without
supper, she’d scream and shout “get out of my house.”
What about old gran and granddad, they’d know what you really
think of them. Do you love them or are you just playing along to get their
money when they die. Reading Minds is a dangerous thing, we need protection
from ourselves, a stray spoken word can hurt, but
luckily our words are locked up in our minds and
they can
be chosen and picked and used with caution. But if
they
were there all naked in front of us, no nuances, no
clarification then we’d all be in big trouble. I
believe
we think
4 times
faster than we speak, but speech is our filter so that we DO pick the right
words, we don’t say the wrong thing. Reading Minds can be dangerous, yes it
would be great if you could walk down the road and have all the girls dreaming
of you, but what if you were walking down the road and you could heard everybody’s
inner voice saying I hate you. What You Don’t Know Cann’t Hurt You, so as far
as I’m concerned I’ll Fortune Telling to Gypsies.
*Peter Sarstead copyright
My kids
were in London today for a day out with my wife and one of her friends. Me I
stayed home I’d picked up some bug last night , so I nursed my bug.
The girls
were all excited when they came home and my smallest one was telling a story.
It began with a box fell from the sky, but it was no ordinary box, it was a
magic box. So I told her to keep the idea in her head and she could write it
out in the morning, it was late now. Her bigger sister observed that when she
wrote she wrote all posh, but when she talked she did not. I then tried to
explain the difference between :- speaking, writing, presenting, teaching. Some
people may be able to do one but this does not prove/equate to being able to do
another. Then my smallest let loose with the line that I was Google and should
be a teacher and that I should write kids books. I’ll do anything IF somebody
sponsors me, or becomes my patron, though in my case it would be Saint Rita or
Saint Jude themselves who’d help. Thinking back to 1969 I did win a Junior Free
Handwriting Competition, I have the certificate somewhere, Brook Bond sponsored
it, I’d forgotten about it till just now.
Daddy, any daddy has to try and be an encyclopaedia to give
his kids some information, in some SciFi film or it
may have
been in Dr Who I saw a battered Robot became the teacher, with holograms too.
If only I could be some sort
of
magician, then that would be swell as the Americans say, card tricks with
lessons on, sleight of hand passing messages of learning. I am award that I
have to try hard and give good information out, otherwise 1984 becomes a
reality, rubbish becomes fact, and facts become rubbish. There are more
questions than answers, luckily I’m very eclectic so I can give a base camp
answer, then watch as their minds click and you can see from their expression,
from the look in their eyes that they understand and they can begin to work
things out for themselves or just have a look online. The main thing though is
that Daddy, this daddy, me, encourages his girls to use their brains. The
cobwebs may grow IF I didn’t have children asking
this and asking that. In a couple of years time my
biggest daughter can read my book, it’s a 12
certificate
so although she’s seen it she’ll just have to wait
for
the dubious honour of reading daddy’s The Butcher
The
Baker and The Undertaker.
Its Just
Got to be Winnie The Pooh. My youngest daughter just loves Winnie The Pooh, my
wife thinks it’s because I look like Winnie The Pooh, judge for yourselves.
We have a
collection of soft toys tidied away behind the settee, about 40 I think. Every
now and then my small daughter lines them up in rows and she's the teacher.
Winnie The Pooh is always 1st in the queue. Then she takes the register and
tells the toys to pay attention. Then she reads to them, everything is done in
an orderly way. I think she'll end up a scientist as she's so organised, my
wife did Science back in Shanghai, so its in the genes. Her Chinese grandfather
did a bit of writing too, as did her Chinese great uncle, and then there is me
www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com , so writing is in the blood too. Does anybody
remember Abbott the Physics text book? That just sprung to mind, we were told
to read it cover to cover, my brother actually did do that.
So back to
Winnie The Pooh, I'm being told that she wants a Winnie The Pooh lunchbox, she
just saw it in the Netto leaflet that came through our door. Then another
leaflet
had a Winnie The Pooh duvet and duvet cover. I did buy her a
Winnie The Pooh blow up cushion but that delevoped a slow leak, so I stuffed
Winnie the Pooh with a few old pillows, and she was able to continue sitting on
it. We
have Winnie
The Pooh dvds and some old VHS tapes too, and a few days ago we bought her a
Winnie The Pooh cutlery set along with a face cloth. So thats just the tip of a
big
iceberg, she has a white Tigger thats not really Tigger but he does look like a
very very pale snow Tigger. When she grows up we will tease her about this. But
I know one day a chubby cuddly man will ask my permission to marry her, perhaps
his name will be Christopher Robin.
They say
that the best years of our lives are our schooldays. Maybe its true, but we are
all too busy doing the homework, or suffering Latin homework. I can vouch for
Latin in Grammar school, it’s a form of torture, but it does help your
vocabulary, and it does make you perservere.
I suppose
Uni is the best days of your lives too, until you get the bill. And realise
that nobody rates a degree any more because everybody has one so the currency
is devalued. 3 years experience doing something while you did you degree in
film studies. So the experienced one gets the job.
Getting
married and setting up home, are they the best years of our lives? Then the
first baby and the lack of sleep, learning to catch and throw dirty nappies out
the house, just like a wicket keeper.
Finally
getting your book published. Getting a few plays on the stage, having a column
in The Sun and The Telegraph, would these be the best days of our lives. www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
the grave can be seen in the distance, it may be
50years
away but you’ve have the 1st 50 years so you are on
the
slide to the grave. With experience and love your
view of
life has changed, you have a young family, but you
know
how to love them. You can feel it in the air, you
can see
it in the garden, you can hear the children’s
laughter,
you can enjoy a glass or two, but you are at Peace,
that’s when you have reached The Best Days Of Your
Life.
Let There
Be Light © By Michael Casey
Let my tears be my words
Let the
candle light be my eyes Let the flowers in bloom be my lips Let their scent be
my blood
Let the
wind be my breath Let clouds be my mood
Let
children’s laughter be my hope Let widows’ sighs be my conscience Let a
stranger’s prayers be my delight Let the bees be my wisdom
Let the trees be my strength
Let my patience reach to the stars
Let me be
always remembered in your prayers End
p.s.
**** I hope
you enjoy my poetry, there's more at www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
Poems are
like butterflies there appear from nowhere and flutter by, we are amazed by
their beauty then they are
gone. This one came to me about 2 years ago when I was hiding
in St Phillips cathedral during my lunch break. I got the 1st couple of lines.
Once home I sat in my old big blue chair in front of the computer and then
worked out the rest. You can see a photo on my site. I have now updated the old
chair, all I need is a new computer.
The Lambs
have gone its Silent, my girls are in London today, my wife took them there. So
I'm home alone, and its so silent.
"Dad,
what does xyz mean" asks my big daughter, but she's not here,
I explain
and tell her to use one of the dictionaries we have. I want her to be able to
find out answers herself. When you explain things you find that you try and be
so exact so that you don't confuse your kids. It probably makes me think more
clearly too.
This
morning my smallest girl put a Tamagatu purple cat on the desk, she said it
would keep me company while they were away. Its still on the desk besides me as
I talk to you. My old copy of Don Camillo's Dilemma is there too, I've read
50pages just 200 more to go, then its Don Camillo meets the Hells Angels, then
I'm done, 6 books
all about a
Catholic priest and a Communist Lord Mayor. The stories were 1st written over
50 years ago, I know no Italian so I read them in English translation. I was
actually going to learn Italian several years ago, only I got distracted by
this Shanghai girl, I married her, you
can see some photos of us all on this site, we were at a
wedding a few days ago. I'm the George Clooney look alike in the photos, though
my hair looks as though I've washed it in DAZ. Our 2 girls are there too, along
with the
wife, not
forgetting the Bride and Groom. As for Italian, I put the books in an old
holdall and put that under my bed, years later my nephew was learning Italian,
so I donated everything to him.
You could
hear a pin drop in the house, its so silent, and yes I hate it. All I have is
the pain from tearing down the fence, its sharp and makes me wince a bit, but
aren't we all stupid sometimes, or is it just me who's cornered the market. I
look to my right and can hear the clock ticking, its a battery powered but
still I can hear
it. No
small girls running about in the room above me. No Blick DAB radio blaring out
Galaxy on their radio above. The clock in the living room strikes nine, my
girls
should be
getting on the train home now. London Euston to Birmingham, 28pounds for the 3
of them with Virgin trains, see the offers for yourself. I can hear the
boiler
click into action, heating the water for baths on their return. The computer
hums in front of me, just by my knee. I hope I win the HP Envy 17 laptop in
this weeks
Sun's competitions, our computer is 7 years old and freezes a
lot. The irony is I joined the MySUN site so I could enter the competitions,
and then I stumbled into putting my blogs here on MySun. The sound of the
keyboard echoes around our empty house.
I
jump in my seat, the telephone has just exploded, my wife has just rung to say
they missed the train. Only she was teasing, I can hear our kids in the
background on the train. So all is well, but too too quiet. I know one
thing
I could never live alone. Tomorrow the kids will want Tux Paint on the
computer, or want to use the Graphic Tablet on the computer. There will be
noise galore, a family noise, the noise I prayed for all those years ago.
Cheerio
from Birmingham and London Euston www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
By
Michael Casey
Well just
for something different today I took my fence away. The day had started noisily
when a courier nearly knocked my door down, and it wasn’t even my parcel. So
wishing him well I closed my door. Half an hour later a polite knocker knocked
at my door. “Sorry for disturbing you” he began “yes you are disturbing me” I
finished as I closed the door. I don’t know about you but I just wish cold
callers didn’t bother. Or they all got a disease and took the Junk Email
writers with them, a kind of modern plague, where the skeletons decayed over
computers. But perhaps I’m being too mean today.
As for my
fence, we have a rickety old one on one side next to the entry, its parallel
supports with boards nailed alternately on the inside and on the outside.
However with age it’s developed a stoop, or backward lunge, a kind of limbo
dancing look.The alley is kind of blocked because of this, but nobody uses it
but me, however I decided it was getting dangerous, so the fence had to go.
Just in case. So I leant on the fence and it creaked and groaned, not unless that
was my back. 3
sections gave way, the supporting posts had had it for years.
Then all I had to do was saw the last bit away. Only I don’t have a saw, but I
do have a metal saw ,or rather just the blade which was part of the tools I
inherited 30 years ago. They gather dust mainly as I am not a DIY kind of
person. I can work out what needs to be done, but as for doing it, I leave that
to the experts. I once tried painting a wall, only it took gallons of
paint, the
wall was covered in a wallpaper that was just like carpet, so it just soaked up
the paint, a bit like painting a bear I suppose, not that I’ve ever tried
painting a bear.
But back to
the fence, finally I’d sawn away the last support and I had a kind of wooden
ladder in my entry. All I had to do was heave it to the rubbish area at the
bottom of my garden. I had to jump up and down to break it up, I had to be very
careful too as there were 6 inch nails all over it. Rusty nails but still
dangerous, apart from the one I nearly stabbed my chest with, everybody must
have done similar such things. Did I ever tell you when I painted my bathroom.
It’s on my site somewhere www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
But back to the fence, I was triumphant when I
was
finished, then the washing line broke, my bright orange Polo top with a polo
scene on it went sailing to the ground along with my jeans. Another task for
me. Over the road in the hardware store I got a plastic washing line, £4.50 I
was robbed. I also bought some green twine, £1.60, I had an idea you see. Once
home I got my biggest daughter to hold the end while I tied it to the tree and
then to the peg in the wall. I didn’t realise
just how
long 20m is, so I was able to have 2 new plastic washing lines. This is good in
the long run as I live with 3 girls, if only I had another bathroom, but I need
a lottery
win before that happens, or Rupert Murdoch sees this and gives me a job. Hold
on a second while I watch a pig fly past.
So now I
had a new washing line, all I needed was a new fence. That’s where the twine
comes in. I called my girls outside, together we ran up and down the yard tying
the twine to what was left of the supporting posts. A kind of net, a bit like
the net at Wimbledon was formed. Straight lines then vertical lines in between,
plus some coloured paper to make it more attractive. My big daughter has
done crochet at school so she was well pleased with her
efforts. My wife said it looked like prison bars but she just has no
imagination said me and the girls. We hope small birds will rest on the top
line and sing to us. It was a fun hour or so, apart from the twinge in my back,
the fence was heavy after all. I forgot one thing, I wanted to teach the girls
about Gravity, so I shook the Apple Tree at the bottom of the garden and they
watched the apples fall, Newton remembered. Then they gathered a few apples and
pretended to cook them, the apples were bobbing in a container, Archimedes came
to mind so I mentioned him to them. All in all an educational Summers Day.
So hypnotize me
I was just
picking up the kids from the school on the hill, I overheard a mum saying that
her son was thinking of doing Hypnotism as a subject for part of his University
course. It made me think about what kind of world we’d be if we could use
hypnotism to iron out the rough spots. If we could use it to make us all shiny
and new all the time. It made me think of Sci fi films, from Logan’s Run to
Matrix, the perfect world.
So what if
it was just weight loss, or fear of animals that was hypnotized away. You used
to be able to listen to a tape while you slept and then hey presto in the
morning you could speak Chinese. That’d be good in our house as my wife is a
Shanghai girl and our girls speak Chinese with her while I’m trying to write
here at the computer.
Learning
piano via hypnotism would be good too, my small daughter is now trying out the
guitar after playing on
the piano
for 30mins. We saved up for years to buy the piano and then my brother gave us
a child size guitar which he’d picked up cheap in The Works. My girl is
making up a song now behind me as I talk to you, its hard
trying to type when you’re trying not to laugh, try it for yourself.
Now
hypnotists use a watch to hypnotize, so that’d interest me straight away, just
the watch. I have a Russian KGB officer automatic at present, if you’re read
The Watch
and Me you’ll know about me and watches. When I have some money I hope to buy
an Oris watch, but it will have to be a strong one. So there I am being hypnotized
to learn
after dinner speaking, I’d really love to get on that circuit, however I don’t
know any Freemasons. I’m being hypnotized when I realize the hypnotist has a
lovely Omega, so what happens. My love of watches overrules the hypnotist, I
escape with his Omega and the hypnotist is found staring at the clock at New
Street Station, he’s mumbling just look into my eyes, look into my eyes. I’m
sent back to the hypnotist, he’s very famous, he has a Cartier Bleu watch, he
just gives it to me, everything becomes a blur.In the morning I wake up in bed
speaking Chinese and giving an after dinner speech, on one wrist is an Omega,
on the other is a Cartier Bleu. As for the hypnotist he’s found on the no8 bus
going around and around Birmingham, on his wrist is my Russian
Das Vidanya Everybody, Michael
www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
I wouldn’t
say I have a love affair with frozen food, say pizza, nor that I like my bacon
sandwiches so much. Its just that I used to work such odd hours. Getting home
at 9pm doesn’t encourage you to get Delia’s book out and be creative. You just
want something quick, as its 6 hours
or so since
your late lunch at 3pm. It may even be nearly 10pm when you get home, after
doing a work favour for somebody. So now your stomach does think that your
throat has been cut, it rumbles away as you sit on the bus,
other
passengers think its the deep base of somebody’s personal stereo. Once home its
flick Sky on grab dinner from the freezer, in 10 minutes time the dinnertime
Pizza is ready, washed down by two mugs of milky coffee. If Delia has got 1/2 a
page left to fill she could just squeeze it into one of her books.
Time moves
on and I’m married and we have two little girls. Rice is on the menu daily, you
need a degree in Oriental Languages to know what’s in the fridge. I have a
Shanghai wife who really can cook. Chopsticks make an appearance, as does the
spoon shovelling techniques for eating. I can come home to find movement in the
kitchen
is being
cooked too, the rice cooker is on, you would not believe just how fluffy and
nice rice can be. Before Shanghai, I’d have scoffed at the idea of rice being
so different, Ambrosia creamed rice from a tin was the height of my experience,
now I scoff nice rice. My wife goes to the Korean shop to buy the rice as it
tastes so good. We are lucky we have a huge Ying Yip down the road a few miles
too. Once dinner is ready there are 3 or 5 dishes on the table, Phoenix is of
the TV too. I think my wife only came around to my house in the first place all
those years ago because I had Chinese tv, either that or she really loved my
frozen pizza. Occasionally there are prawn crackers on offer, you really have
to be quick to make these or you’ll burn them and yourself.
My dad used
to have a bowl of corn flakes as a snack before bedtime if he was peckish, I do
the same. Cereals tend to be my breakfast too as they are so quick and easy to
make, well they make themselves. My wife likes snacks too, but they can seem
tasteless to a Western tongue. However biscuits and cakes from Sainsbury’s are
a delight for her, if I search hard enough I can find them, our
girls love them too. You have to understand if you
follow
the Eastern diet then you are very slim, both of my girls are
slim and tall, so to fall of the Eastern diet is a treat. Going to the chip
shop for them is a bit of a wonder, they get “takeaway” every day at home, so
chips is a treat. As for me my diet has improved as I have the left overs,
though I still weigh 3 times more than my size 0 wife. As for me and Delia, we
do have one thing in common, and I don’t mean our love of food, Delia and Me
are catholics.
I was
thinking about what to talk about today, as I need to practice my writing
skills, Eric Clapton once said in an interview that if you don't practice you
could lose your gifts, so practice. So this is what I'm thinking about today.
Our kids,
all of our kids inherit things from their parents. Beauty or lack of it,
freckles and red hair or not. Being a bonnie baby or not, being quiet or not.
Our first daughter was very quiet and did not wake us up in the night. However
the 2nd one was the opposite, if she
was the 1st
one then maybe we wouldn't have bothered with a 2nd. Ask your own friends for
their experiences. Our
1st one was
born in the early hours, I got home at 3am and had to explain to my Shanghai
mother in law that it was a daughter. A week previously I had been to my
brother's house where we loaded up an estate car, Steve from Steve's takeaway
had helped. My brother had saved everything from his kids and now he passed it
on to me.Then once home me and the mother in law had constructed the cot,
without any common language between us, it took 1.5hours. Today it would take
1/2 that time as the mother in law understands a lot more English and
Our 1st
girl was born almost on Padre Pio's own Birthday, he being the Saint who'd
started the ball rolling so to speak. Our daughter was big, like me I suppose.
But she has perfect Chinese hair, the kind of hair girls would kill for. Look
at the photos here and judge for yourself. Apart from that I suppose she looks
very Western.
The thing
you learn very fast when you have a baby is how to change nappies and get them
and their smell out the house. You save all the plastic bags from shopping, and
its a bit like wicket keeping, a catch and a throw and
out the
door. Ask any cricketers if nappy changing is as I've explained. I'm sure
they'll agree.
As children
grow then traits appear. Our 2nd child is very funny. Before she was born she
was in Shanghai and her granddad was making my wife laugh. A child in the womb
can hear, so our daughter would have heard all the laughter, as did her born
sister. I think my wife was 8 months pregnant when she returned home. I can
remember waiting at Heathrow after they'd had 2 months in Shanghai. My daughter
was sitting on the luggage trolley being pushed by grandma, behind was my very
pregnant
wife. I was crying with happiness. And as the cot was already
ready, no 1.5hours of Lego like building. Drawing is a delight for both my
girls. My wife can do all fancy stuff, Calligraphy and Chinese letters etc. She
even used to go drawing of some sort for the Police in Shanghai. One of my
brothers is good too. So drawing is in both sides of the gene pool.
As kids
grow the family features show. My big daughter looks like me when I was her
age, its like Dr Who in a way, she is my past and I am her future, its a bit
spooky as the resemblance is so very strong. My other daughter apparently looks
exactly like my wife when she was young though she is Western looking. So
Nature has given each of us, a clone so to speak. Our youngest also has the
fantasic hair too. You'd have to do some market research amongst your friends
to see if all of them rate hair as the best thing to have. So long as neither
of them go white early like me.
37. Dress Sense
Do men have
any dress sense? Walk down your local street and see what you can see. Me I've
not worn a shirt for a year. I prefer rugby shirts, even though its decades
since I was dangerous on a rugby field. Rugby shirts can
machine. I have a bright orange one with a polo
scene on
it, in fact I have 3 exactly the same. I bought then
in
Sawgrass Mills Florida which is the biggest shopping
mall
in Florida. There was a sale on when I was there so
I
ended up buying 3. At my size you take your bargains
when
they come. As for shoes, are black shoes only for
the
office and interviews. Personally I like comfy
shoes,
brown ones too. I always buy 2 pairs together in the
1/2
price sale.
I suppose I could be related to Ken Clarke such is my choice of shoes. When I
used to wear shirt and ties I always wore bright colours, reds or yellows, that’s
the ties not the shirts. Boring white or blue shirts were my choice. Never buy
a non iron shirt because they always DO need ironing and they are impossible to
iron and end up looking like a dried out prune. And don't forget to comb your
hair and brush and dandruff off. The worse thing in the world is dandruff on
your shoulders. Moving on, trousers should always be comfortable, if you bend
down to tie your shoelaces and you hear a ripping noise that means the trousers
were too tight. Only John Travalta can look cool in tight trousers. So be
honest with yourself, if you look like Shrek in a suit then
CHANGE. Though I have to confess I've been told I'm a bit of
a Shrek, even though I thought my 18.5 inch neck with a bright red tie hanging
from it made me look important. Ah well what can a man do? Well ask your wife
could be a good idea, but run for the hills if she says she'll come shopping
with you. You know it'll mean you'll end up with 2 new pink shirts, while she
buy 20 items she really really needs.
Happy Shopping everybody.
by
Michael Casey
Home is
where the heart is. Homeless is outside a house looking in wishing it were your
home .Put into a Home is where due to circumstances a loved one has to be put
into care.
As I talk to you this morning I have a drawing on
the
desk
propped up by the computer speakers .It’s a drawing of a girl with all her hair
to one side, she has long eyelashes and is carrying a small bag. Besides the
biro drawing of the girl is a big heart and some stars,
written
above is “For Daddy.” I have a notepad on the desk in front of the computer
monitor so my girls love leaving drawings. On the side of the fridge is this
weeks spelling list, held there by magnets that aunty gave us. On top of the
fridge is a fruit bowl full of fruit and sweets. By
the fruit
bowl is container full of pens and crayons, a shopping list in Mandarin beside
it. There are photos of family scattered about the house, in one corner photos
of my mum and dad both long gone, but still much loved. When you get to Heaven
you’ll see them is what I say to my girls.We found a stilly photo of me so I
put it on the
shelf next to the huge red Chinese dictionary, the fairy from
the Christmas tree is also on that shelf waiting ever patiently for Christmas
to return. Behind me is a painting of an angel a Bourne Jones copy, blowing a
flute thing. Girls shoes are scattered about the house, waiting to trip me up.
Behind the sofa in this room are two huge bags of soft toys, waiting to escape
.Once my smallest is back home she’ll release the soft toys from their
Jail. Then
she’ll line them up in rows and sitting on the teddy bear wooden stool she’ll
be teacher. All the toys have names and she’ll chide them as together they
learn this week’s spellings. Her big sister has her nose in a book, she’s
determined to win a prize from the local library for reading the most books. I
told her I read everything in the school library when I was young. The sound of
chickens comes from the living room LULU, not that lulu, but a chat show queen
on Phoenix can be heard. Then my wife is on the phone while she shakes her big
wok. I look outside and am pleased to see my sea of shamrock, I transplanted it
here many years ago, it nearly died during the harsh Winter we just had but now
I have enough for all of Riverdance. I’ll stop there for now. But you can see
what I’m on about. A home is a
combination of all the things I’ve just talked about. A home
is a physical place, but it is much more than that. It’s the little things
inside the house that turn it into
a home.
Such as the Looney Chick toy that I’m using as a cushion, my girls brought it
back all the way from Shanghai last year, and now we use it as a cushion. The
drawings on the desk in front of me are done with love by my girls. Sharing a
pack of Rolos, even though you love them so much, this is home, this is family.
In the end, where there is love then there is a home. Without the love even if
your home was better than a 5 star hotel, then it really wouldn’t be a home, it
would be just a location. For as we all know Home is where the Heart is.
In England
we have weather, elsewhere they have climate. Which may explain why here in
England we are obsessed by the weather and the weather forecast. I know my own
wife always demands I change channels so she can decide if she can put the
washing out, and what clothes she can wear. I tell her she can press the red
button, but that’s no good she wants the live show of the weather. Then she can
hang my pants out, and get changed. When I visited Shanghai a decade ago we’d
be walking back to her mum’s flat she’d point to the sky and there on the
bamboo rods were my pants blowing in the wind. Just like a flag she laughed.
So nothing
much has changed, only the location of my pants. Now on an old fashioned
washing line in Old Forge and Singing Anvil, then on a bamboo pole 4 flights up
in Shanghai, and there were no lifts in her mum’s block of flats, lucky for us
we did not have to walk to the 10th floor. Explains why the Chinese are so fit
and thin.
But why do
we love the weather so much? Because its so variable, so we lust after news of
the weather, lust is the correct word too. People go mad when the sun pops out.
Where I live its as if there is an alarm, the alarm
goes off and suddenly all the men are out on the street of
Old Forge and Singing Anvil, with shorts on. Really ugly legs too, me I never
wear shorts, though I once met Freddie Garretty from Freddie and the Dreamers.
Remember the song? Who wears short shorts, we wear short shorts.
Am I really
getting old, or do I just have a good memory for trivia. Whatever, where I live
men just love getting their legs out. They must have an alarm in their pockets
attached to their mobile phone, text message tells them to get their shorts on.
So don’t
get burnt everybody and don’t forget the sunscreen.
We all just
love call centres, we all just love it when they call when we've just sat down
on the toilet and we're expecting a call from grandma in Shanghai. So the phone
rings and we dash for the Andrex and the sink to wash our hands in. Then still
pulling up our pants, we
fall down
stairs just as Norman Wisdom or Brian Rix would do, then pulling up our pants
and doing up our trouser's belt we pass by the hall mirror and see the black
eye we've just got. We answer the phone, there is a long long pause, as if the
call centre guy is having a final drag
on his ****
before answering, "hi I'm Guy, could I interest you in cable tv, I've got
such a great package to offer." his voice oh so so sexy, in his
imagination anyway. Has he not heard of Sky, the best package. So we swear in
Shanghai dialect, and hang up the phone. Then we notice our trousers are split,
the one's grandma in Shanghai had made for us, the trousers for her Panzi, her
Fat Fat Boy son in law.
If only we could get revenge, just like in Bruce
Almighty. A
bottled water company rings, so we click our fingers and its as if the Dam
Busters had breached that
dam, a sodden girl will NEVER ring your number again. Then
there's a knock at your door, it’s the Mormons, you smile and smile, and they
start running away, only asking which way is the airport. Why? Well I'll leave
that to your imagination. The phone rings again, so you do heavy breathing,
only for a voice at the other end of the phone to say "I'm Sergeant Dixon,
would you be interested in joining the neighbourhood watch scheme."
"Sorry Wrong Number is your reply." You decide to change, you're half
way up the stairs when the phone ring again, you turn and fall down the stairs
again. Your wife is just in the door and she answers the phone, she can see you
over her shoulder, "I told you you were too fat for those trousers"
You trip over again, "bloody call centres is all you can say."
I just read
about the Japanese being asked to go to bed early to save energy and the carbon
footprint and so forth. I don't know about you but that'd end in a baby boom in
my family. The good old days of 12 children and so forth. Shifts for the bed
and the first one up being the best one dressed. With the Japanese perhaps an
early whale sandwich on the tube to work. So they'd save the planet but wipe
out the whale. More sleep is a good idea, then you have more dreaming
opportunities. I have a dream etc. Perhaps with more sleep the Japanese would
invent more things. My wife is almost Japanese as are all her relatives and
fellow citizens of Shanghai, Shanghai has
so much
pride they could almost be Japanese. Don't forget the song too, "I'm
turning Japanese, I really think so."
Top of the
Pops memories come flooding back. For my own part I've discovered the joys of
headphones and a personal DAB radio, its great if you don't want to go to sleep
yet. Radio4 Midnight news followed by a bit of Bob Harris or Magic Radio.
Sleeping is good but you have to collate your day before you go off to the land
of Nod. Then you are in a relaxed state so you really chill with
and sometimes you could really be in Japan, in one
of
those sleeping capsules in one of those small hotels.
Sleep really is the greatest gift of all, once you
have
your 1st baby you will really know what I mean. You
sleep
less when you get older, so I've heard, but then you
can
put the radio on and listen to something, or just
read a
book while you stay all nice and cosy with the duvet
around you. Which brings me to my final thought, if
we
all used duvets we wouldn't need to use energy to
heat
our bedrooms, and did the Japanese invent duvets?
I'm called
"grandpa" by the teachers when I pick up my kids from school. Because
my hair is prematurely white. In a way its a joke, but I am over 40 years older
than my kids. I was a late starter, but I do have a young wife, who looks even
younger because she's from the East, Shanghai to be exact. In the East they
respect Old Age, so I'm all in favour of that. But as for having a good old
age, I think I'll be dead, I won't last that long.
I'll have to work to at least 66, and maybe 67. So
I'll
be worn out
by the time it comes to retire. My dad was a blacksmith and then spent 40years
in a steel works, The District Iron and Steel in Brasshouse Lane Smethwick. Has
a ring to it don't you agree? He retired a year or two early when the works was
closed down. He had ten golden years with my mum, then mum died, then he had 5
years in an old people's home, read Padre Pio and Me
www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com But he at least had those golden ten years.
My brother
was made redundant and now at 60 he's retired. He can look forward to 20+years
of relaxation and learning. Me I've got 14 years more to do, if there's any
today and
write more books. Or if I could get something produced/published then I'd be
able to retire. The chances of that happening, probably zero, but strange
things have happened, read Literary Criticism on my site. Perhaps the
government should start a National Laughter Campaign to cheer us all up, Ken
Dodd should be ringmaster. The thought of years of slavery is saddening,
perhaps we could start a National Singing Campaign, a kind of whistle while you
work, Arthur Askey reincarnated to pass all those extra working years away. We
could sing the Song of The Hebrew Slaves, for that's what'll happen, retire at
95 IF we're still alive, in the year of 2010 If we're still alive
My
favourite sweets are, now let me stop before I continue. What are your
favourite sweets, as you sit in front on the PC, a cup of coffee perched by
your screen as you read this instead of doing those oh so interesting Excel
reports for the boss. Can you remember back to when you were a child? Or have
you never given up on sweets, or are you a parent? Well for me it was always a
Cadbury's Crunch. My brother would sell his very soul for a Rolo, my youngest
daughter loves them too, her delight is squashing them until these stick to our
glass coffee table, which is also our Chinese eating table. If you
look though
the living room window you'll think you're looking at a restaurant or looking
at China. Well you are, Shanghai to be exact, rice with everything. With a diet
like that my girls are tall and thin. That’s why they enjoy sweets so much. My
big daughter likes Caylie now, if I've spelt it right. We all adore a nice bag
of crisp,
so an Aldi
26 pack does down well. I'm old enough to remember the salt being in a blue bag
inside the crisps, and not when they reinvented it 20 years ago, I mean 45
years ago. Pop came in heavy glass bottles which had a penny refund on the
bottle, and you could get some chews
with the refund. I always used to drink the dregs from the
pop bottles before taking the bottles back. My brother who I'd put a red hot
poker on his leg, just for fun as kids do. Well my brother peed in a few
bottles, to simulate dregs, and yes you've guess it, I drank those dregs. Which
reminded me of the salt in crisps packets. We had an old fashioned sweet shop
just a few yards away from the family house, two ancient sisters with a small
husband between them lived there and made bread but in the front room was a
sweet shop with all those jars of sweets. They used to say to us children as we
left "off
ye go, home
to your parents. So we called the shop "off ye goes".
As you grow
up your tastes change, and its a nice novelty to rediscover an old fashioned
sweet shop. Then the memories come flooding back. I'm lucky in a way because I
drunk so much milk it protected my teeth from all the sugar. However I did give
up sugar in my coffee when I was 19, just to see if I could. Blokes discover
beer and stop having sweets, well until they are parents. As for women its said
that a woman would prefer a bar of Cadburys or Galexy instead of a man. Give
her a Jackie Collins and chocolate and maybe some Baileys and the
Praise and
Reward, it’s a sticky question. Some things don't ask for praise or reward.
Like if your kids do a small chore for you, they don't ask for a pound, they
are just happy to help you, because they love you. If you are thirsty they'll
fetch you a drink, they won't charge you for it, they'll do it instinctively.
Just as my daughter
did this
evening when she watched me decorating, or rather my attempts at decorating,
she even sacrificed her fizzy pop for me, she knows how I prefer pop to alcohol.
Sometimes I'll offer a reward and she'll turn it down.
For me this
shows I'm bringing her up the same way I was brought up. I know the majority of
people reading this will think I'm old fashioned. I do know that her Irish
grandparents would be so proud of her if ever they saw her, Irish granddad did
hold her in his arms but after 7 months or so he was gone, as for my mum she
went early to make the tea.
Encouragement
does work and should be used all the time. My youngest daughter just loves
Matilda the film based on the Roal Dahl book. Why does she love it? Because its
funny, and because the little girl does find love with the teacher. The teacher
loves and encourages. Just as
kids, even if at the moment the encouragement is to
move
out of the way of the tv so all dad's mates can
watch the
world cup, and isn't the garden a great place to be
and
dad will give you some money for pop from the corner
shop
If only the kids get out of the way of the tv.
My daugher
has joined a sunday choir, so there she is praising God, and she gets rewarded
with a few quid for singing.
They do say
we all have to sing for our supper, just like Little Tommy Tucker.
How can I describe a child's love? I can speak of
myself
when I was a child which from the Birth Certificate
was a
long time ago. Though some may say I'm still a
child,
others, such as women, all women, say that men never
grow
up and are always children.
I can
remember when I was 10 and I used to sit on the top step of the stairs and we'd
have a "social", me and my mum. I'd tell her all we'd done at school
and what had happened, all in quiet a large amount of detail.Then my mum would
kiss me goodnight and give me a gentle pat sending me off to bed. There was so
much love in my mum, lots and lots, for all her big family, lots of prayer
too. I
always got an extra ice cream from my dad when we were on holiday in Wales, we
seemed to go to Abergele all the time. My dad discovered hamburgers for the 1st
and tried 1 then another then another, in the end he had 6, such wonderful
memories. I seemed to remember a castle nearby, playing golf with my closest
brother, we had 1 club and 1 putter each, this was before Tiger Woods existed.
Our parents loved us and we loved them, this was before the Modern Family was
invented too. Nobody hated their parents then, nobody dreamed of the Wii and
hating
your parents because they would not buy you one. Tv was 2
channels and in black and white, everything was black and white, you loved your
folks and they loved you.
Now 40 or
so years later I'm married and I have two small girls of my own. My
Chinese/Irish girls who love me. Having a family when you thought you may not
ever marry, and then having 2 beautiful girls, this is very humbling and does
make me thank God. The important thing is to make sure when they look in the
mirror they don't fall in love with their reflection. Its what's inside that
matters I
always tell them. And you know what? Even at their young age they know that
beauty fades and is worthless. A nice smile and a big big heart is what
matters, the reflection that you see in the mirror is worthless. Mind you I
always tell everybody that I fell
in love
with my wife because she made me laugh. Nobody believes me, but there are 2
people who know I'm telling it as it is, my 2 daughters know it. I bought a
book of Poetry today, from the cheap book shop. There are lots of of
illustrations in it, 300 famous poems, including a Children's poetry section.
My biggest daughter loves to draw and she is good, so the idea is to appeal to
her eyes and to her ears. It worked, she wanted to take the
think books should be preserved, not bend and creased,
especially if read in bed. However as I write this I
think I should have let her. So tomorrow I will
allow her
to take it to her room. However her smaller sister
does
love to write on anything and everything. Perhaps I
should write a poem about that.
Girls like
to be tucked in at night and you have to tell them a story or say prayers with
them. Then 10 mins later they'll come down because they want a drink of milk,
and another kiss goodnight. And could I possibly come upstairs and tuck them in
again. Then 20mins later they need another drink, so they come down again.
Later on, the girls reappear because they need the bathroom, well did have all
those drinks. Finally carrying more drinks they disappear up the stairs. This
is our Pantomime, a pantomime of Love. I think of my dead parents and I know
how they would laugh. And my girls are only here because my dad survived his
big heart attack, Hugs and Kisses is what little girls give. I love you 20 is
what my small daughter once said, 20 is a big number, so I'm loved that much. I
hope everybody reading this is loved 20 too!
They say
that if you look after the pennies the pounds/dollars will look after
themselves. So what should I say if I have a trail of pennies, if I keep on
finding pennies all over the place, a kind of trail of pennies. And they are
pennies and sometimes dimes, for my daughter has decided to leave American
coins all over the place for me to find. We were in Florida in 2006 and we
no doubt
brought back a few coins. My daughter has found them and thinks its fun to
leave them all over the house for me to find. I don't know if its just a joke,
or is
she trying
to encourage me with this trail of coins. Someday I'll win some money, or maybe
even the lottery and then we can buy a big house and then she can have an arts
and crafts room. That would be better than a trail
of paint
and water up the stairs to her room. It is nice to find the odd American coin,
it makes me smile and it reminds me just how much she loves me. Her younger
sister has no notion of money, we don't give her money, we buy her any things
she wants so we avoid giving her cash.
Its better to keep children innocent as long as
possible,
some children demand money and know notes are a lot
better/bigger than coins. This always strikes me as taking the innocent away
from children, just as saying Santa does not exist is a bad and evil thing to
say. Everybody knows Santa is real. Anyway don't let your children fall in love
with money, my youngest doesn't even know that the brown coins have less value
that the silver ones, nor that the gold ones are best of all. I want that to
stay that way as long as possible. Streetwise kids are a sad reflection of
society, mine will stay safe for as long as possible.
And as for
a trail of American coins around the house, they are my big daughter's joke,
for she knows I'm happy to find even one penny, especially as it means she
loves me.
Goodnight I
have to tuck my children in bed now, and that is better that all the pennies or
pounds in the world.
I'm
dreaming of a White Christmas makes us all think of Snow and Love and the film
with Bing Crosby, not forgetting Family. A few bars of a song and we are away,
our minds are somewhere else. Mind you in today's world its a few drugs, or so
called legal highs and the youth
of today
are away. Their minds turning to mush. Me I like to use my mind and not destroy
it. I've been thinking about Tears For A Butcher which will be the follow up to
The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker. Words, ideas ,dreams float by and I
sew them together, not with a needle and thread but with imagination. It takes
time and a lot of energy to create a jigsaw that is a story which turns into a
book. It’s like word association, or an old photo that’s discovered and brings
back memories. We found a photo of me in shorts and wearing glasses I was
alongside my tall brother, we were in Oxford visiting my brother at University.
An
angel poise
lamp was in the photo, the same angel poise lamp that’s sat in a corner of my
brother's house today. Pictures lead to memories and in some cases to more
futures, dreaming of the spires of learning, but that’s another story and
another university. When I write its
with passion, I really am taken over by the words, by the
thoughts, sometimes its like an avalanche and I'm right in the middle of it. I
couldn't be all clinical and planned and precise. I'm not an architect, I am a
dustman, I pick up what I find and use it, I transform
it, and If
I can be pretentious, it transforms me too. We have a friend who just loves
music so I emailed him my best 3 poems and to his surprize he now now thinks
I'm a poet, in fact his wife just rung my wife, about some recipe no doubt.
Chinese folks are just mad for their
food.
Anyways with Poems they sneak into my mind and then I sit down with the idea
and I finish it off. BUT Poems
are in
charge of me and now me in charge of them. In Nov 1987 I wrote a poem called
The Dead and The Living because I wanted Percy the Undertaker in my novel to be
a man of great tenderness, a poet in fact. The idea came to me on a bus as I
was on my way to my Sunday shift as a computer operator. I knew then that I
would never write anything better than those few lines. However last year I had
a line come to me while I was in Saint Phillips Cathedral having a rest and a
sit down. The line was Let my Tears be my words. When I got home I sat down and
finished the poem with my daughter sat on the edge of my
chair. When I finished I realised that I'd just written
something better than the Dead and The Living, it had taken 22years. Such is
the nature of Poetry. As for my comedy writing I start somewhere and a
connection will take me somewhere else, a bit like being a ball in a pinball
machine, I get knocked and flipped and nudged until I end up in quite a
different place to where I began. It is very tiring. Two hours is like a 12
hour shift, because I'm using all my juices. I have toyed with the idea of
writing Tears for A Butcher, in fact the 1st chapter is down on paper and in
cyberspace. But I don't want to commit myself to a year of writing, If I sold
some of my other stuff then, or if I had a fan base, then yes. But for the
moment no, so I am content to be a windmill in my mind, and yes it really is my
favourite song.
Marrying a
Shanghai girl brought many changes to my life. The sound of chickens clucking
for one, Chinese really does sound like chickens in a hen house, if you listen
to the wife talk to her friends over the Internet or on the phone or when a few
are around the house.Chickens, chickens,chickens. The Mandarin for it is
"quock quock quar" or something like that. Just ask ask your own
Chinese friends and they will agree. They'll also tell
you that
Panzi my own Chinese nickname means FAT FAT BOY, not a fat boy, but FAT FAT
BOY. I finally get married and have a family and I get called Panzi. Weighing 3
times as much as the wife or mother in law, has nothing to do with it, honest
I'm a priest you can believe me.
Films
brought us together and we still enjoy watching films on tv. If I could afford
Sky Films I'd love to have it, and a Sky+ HD box. Our Sky+ box is always filled
with films for all the family, Over the Hedge, Bride and Prejudice and all
manner of stuff. Occasionally we have to cull the films to make room for more.
Sky+ really is a godsend for any family. I was just watching Kung Fu Hussle
which had Steven Chow in it. It really was great fun. Lots of Kung Fu action
and lots of fun , and I do
mean fun. It was in Chinese with the bottom of the screen cut
off for the sub titles. I was really laughing, it was
on Film4.
Chinese Kung Fu films are like ballet and yes beyond belief but great great
fun. If you don't normally watch subtitled films then please take a chance on
my review skills. Do watch and laugh along. I won't tell you anything else
about it I don't want to spoil it. Previously there was another film on the tv,
it was called Red Flowers, again in Chinese with subtitles. This was about a
nursery and how a child was dumped there, it had no Kung Fu in it, but it was
really charming. How they got all the small children to act in it I'll never
know but it was well worth a watch. I was asking my
kids
just how
much Mandarin they each understood, one was busy reading the subtitles while
the other seemed to understand a great deal of it. Having 2 languages I hope
will pay dividends for my kids. In the future they
can
bring Crunchies and Dr Pepper to me when I'm
retired,
they should be able to afford them if them keep
their
language skills up. Their heart they get from me and
their beauty from my wife.
I'll leave it there for tonight.
By
Michael Casey
What is
Faith? We are told in one Bible passage that if a man can do many things yet
there is no Love then man has achieved nothing. I remember this being read at
grammar school at the morning assembly. . Sorry if I cannot quote
it
verbatim. I'd come home from work and my dad would be sitting down in the
living room his dinner on a chair so
he could
watch the news ,he'd have the first bite raised to his mouth. I'm not hungry
he'd say and offer me his dinner. This is love. Another time, another shift
pattern. I'd come home at 11p. Dad would wait up to see me before he'd go to
bed, he'd be up at 5am for his work the next morning. This is the standard I'm
used to, I'll do the same for my own children. Its normal, it’s obvious. To me
anyway. My mother used to watch Dallas on tv after she'd fed all her children,
one hand in her
apron as
she watched tv. Only the hand always jumped in her pocket, she was saying the
rosary while she watched tv. Very Irish, very motherly. Very normal, the
standard I got used to. Countless mothers the world over do the same. They may
be Christians, they may be of a multitude
of different Faiths, yet one thing in common. Love, love of
God, love of family, love of children . And do we thank our parents for this
love? If we didn't and now our parents our gone, then do we live with regret
all our lives . No, this would be folly. We can thank our parents and our God
by being good parents, by trying to copy the good example shown to us . I met
my wife in the retirement home where my dad lived after his near fatal heart attack,
which happened 8 bare weeks after my mother died in her sleep. My dad lived
long enough for me to meet/marry and have a granddaughter. As I gaze on my
daughter's face I often say "thank you". Thank You to God for
allowing me a wife and for having a daughter. An extremely beautiful daughter,
healthy and funny. I have to show the moon to my daughter because she thinks
its so pretty, she loves stars too , not yet 22months old and
she knows
the wonder of creation . As I look upwards and see the cold beauty of space I
know how lucky I am. I know how lucky I am. Lucky enough to cry, which I do on
occasions. My tears are my humble thanks and praise of God. I have a family.
July 96, mom was gone 2 months, and dad was now given 1 week to live. So after
3years of constant visits to the seniors home I met my wife, my
Shanghai China. So yes I cry in the dark of the night as I
look up at the stars . I am a lucky man, because I had good parents, I know I
did . I hope everybody could be as lucky as me .....
well I hope
this reads ok , I couldn't think of any poetry , I just hope telling it plain
catches the spirit
,
the spirit of love . One word, one look, one sigh, one
flicker of the eyes, each of these is a prayer, a deep prayer . A prayer of
hope, pray, hope and don't worry is a motto I try to live by that’s all the
advice I can give michael
To sing is
to doubly praise, Saint Cecilia said that. My sister says it too on occasion.
Singing makes us all happy, it lightens the load, it helps pass the time, if we
are happy we'll whistle or hum or sing. Just ask any workman, though workmen
still like to whistle, or should I say wolf whistle when they see a pretty
girl. "Hello Darling" rings out from high up an unfinished building,
followed by laughter when the girl turns around and the girl is in fact a boy
with a girlish haircut.
But I was
talking about singing. My girls were singing "A sailor went to sea, sea
sea, to see what he could see see see." so obviously I jointed in. My
youngest was amazed that I knew it, so I told them that that rhyme must be at
least 50 years old. So on they sang, doing the hand clapping that accompanies
it. It took me back, where have all the years gone, I really hope I can last
till 100
then I'd
have more time with my girls and any grandchildren or even on great great
grandchild. But that's up to God, the girls Great Grandpa is alive and kicking
into his 90s, he's on his 3rd wife now having worn out the 1st 2, Shanghai diet
in a warm China may explain it.
Grandma does sing Jesus songs with the girls over the
Internet from Shanghai, and my big daughter has just joined the choir at Saint
Hilda's down road from the woods. Google tells me Hilda was very wise and lived
a monastic life. My daughter did an audition and was let into the choir. They
even pay a small stipend. My own sister has been singing over 45 years, despite
us telling her to shut up. Me and my brothers were altar boys, none of us
getting any reward for this church work. Perhaps we should have stopped being
Catholics and moonlighted for the Protestants. I was also a reader for 7 years,
so I
can
remember passages from the Bible, as well as hearing them all my life these
past 50 years.
Singing
songs is very very touching, a song will touch the heart and my sister is right,
to sing is to doubly praise. Songs at funerals which open the floodgate, Angels
by Robbie Williams is very popular now, it was played at my cousin's funeral;
songs at the last night of the Proms which make you proud and happy. As I talk
to you I listening to music, Hotel California from the Eagles, 34 years ago
that was out. I never guessed I'd spend 3 years in an hotel. Hotels have music
to kill the deadness of an empty foyer/reception area, as do bars.
Songs that you can sing too give a place a good vibe. Gay
bars play lots of Abba I'm told, again because its great happy music, it helps
the fun on a cold Tuesday evening. I'm listening to an old Elton John album
now, Made in England, its worth digging out, its from 1995. Classical music and
opera touch us too, even when we cannot understand a word. Pavorotti, and that
blind Italian singer Andrei Bocelli, both can touch us. I remember in 1966 when
the whole family went to Lourdes, we were singing Ave Maria in the darkness,
holding up our lighted candles, perhaps 40,000 people singing in the dark. Now
that is really touching and uplifting. I suppose other Faiths do things their
way which are no doubt just as powerful.
As
you have all no doubt gathered through these blogs, I do like my music, a
pocket DAB is always close to me, in fact after 5 years its a bit battered, so
I have to save
up for a
replacement. When you're happy and you know it clap your hands, is a song we
sing when we are kids, we are all so free. We sing when we are in the shower,
we sing when we are in love.
Song is the
Spirit that cannot be broken, we sing to babies in the crib, babies can hear
before they are born,
So sing, sing, sing. For we are alive
Well I hope
you all enjoyed this. It’s a 50 piece selection of my writing that’ll I use to
get a writing job.
www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
is where my writing lives on a day to day
basis.
You can also buy my 5 books on Amazon Kindle by just
clicking on the link
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
Thank You
Michael Casey
NOW the final 50 that make up Michael Casey’s Blogs
2011
Leap Years Day 1988 introduced :-
The
Butcher, The Baker & The Undertaker (c) a comedy drama for everybody set in
Old Forge and Singing Anvil a perfect tv series or one off drama depending on
your budget---------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------A novel , plays and
humour
essays all
on my site www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com Now how do I grab your attention I
was born in the shadow of Cape Hill Brewery , Smethwick , which is on the side
of Birmingham. I ended up working for a market research company into Alcohol
Sales , and I was the shandy drinker . Any alcohol and I was off my tree .
The novel
also on the site is called The Butcher , The Baker and The Undertaker (c), very
tongue in cheek , simultaneously on several levels . An undertaker who becomes
an election agent so a dodgy builder becomes a member of Parliament in the
constituency of Old Forge and Singing Anvil , (my dad was a blacksmith from
County Kerry Eire , yes really).www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com The Butcher The
Baker and The Undertaker is a comedy drama about a street of shops in Old Forge
and Singing
Anvil in England . Here's a flavour Wayne buys a derelict pub
and his wife is pregnant with twins , things could
not be worse , Mrs Murphy comes to the rescue with a
loan
,
and 2 sets of twins the builders work for nothing ,
God looks down and helps too , Wayne discovers a hidden cellar underneath the
cellar , its full of 40year old whisky left over from the war WWII , the pub
was where the local black marketer left everything . Wayne and family are saved
.The Undertaker has a feud with the traffic warden for putting a parking ticket
on his hearse. On the way there' a Jazz funeral , a teddy bear called Patrick ,
a dog called hairy Amjit who has a mind of his own . The Undertaker’s sons
leaves the business and Percy is at a loss , his son returns with a Prodigal
Son plea for forgiveness , "Father forgive me , I now know that computers
are not for me , there is no love in computers , but in our business there is
love and compassion .The Undertaker tries to blackmail a bent builder who is
going to demolish the street of shops where they all live . Peace is restored
so the Undertaker becomes the election agent for the builder and takes him on a
tour of all the rest homes , so that the builder
ends up getting into the Houses of Parliament . The
dodgy
1million pounds. The Undertaker is furious until her
hears that Smiling Paul had a road to Damascus
experience
and gave away all the money to help save the Chinese
restaurant business of his Chinese friends . So
Smiling
Paul becomes a man of honour , and gets a stunning
girlfriend on the way , because the Chinese must
honour
him . The writing is funny and tongue in cheek , if
some
readers see
it just as a ma and pa book then good , but if they step back they will see
that I'm gently poking fun at my characters . Such as Big Sid the butcher who
is like a year around Santa . Patrick the baker is trying to have a love life
but all the street knows his every move
. His
mother is relieved when finally he meets the right girl , a virgin , who turns
out to be the only daughter
of the man
who saved the bakery many years before , to Patrick's mum its a miracle and the
will of God .
I finish with a poem from Percy the Undertaker
by
Michael Casey
I first saw
a deceased when I was nine years old ,my father said not to worry as the dead
are the same as the living , only the laughter has left them , the sparkle
has gone
from their eyes , the worry has been lifted from their shoulders , and their
voice has vanished to eternity .In paradise the sparkle will return for it is
the twinkle
of the stars , the laughter will return too for it is the morning breeze and
the turning tides are their sides shaking with laughter .I treat the deceased
with the same courtesy as I give to the living , though I find the deceased are
always more polite . My father also had a few words to say about the living .He
said that the living are only the caretakers of the soul , yet they think their
existence is everything , that they know everything because they experience
many things with their senses . What the living don't acknowledge is that their
time is short and when I lay their bodies to rest then their souls continue
without them , without their strong
,
without their weak , without their beautiful or even
ugly temporary form , to where I cannot say , only that
it is a better place .Percy the undertaker placed the lid on
the coffin ,the soul was free THE BEGINNING
www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
p.s. I was
vetted by a Chinese Ballet dancer from the Birmingham Royal Ballet when I met
my wife, my wife had met the Ballet dancer in the church next door to my old
Grammar school so with a life like this no wonder I write comedy
Telephone interviews are a new feature of the modern
world. With so many people chasing those jobs, it’s
the
fastest way to sort the wheat from the chaff. There
are
good and bad points to it. The interviewer can be
sat on
the bed in a 4star hotel with a nice bottle of wine
gently breathing beside him as he asks questions
over the
phone. As for the interviewee he can be in his
dressing
gown with 5 days worth of stubble on his face, his
hair
unwashed and uncombed, a hole in his slippers. Then
politely they talk about the skill set the
interviewee
can bring
to the task, how much experience he has doing this and doing that. The
interviewer can ask the interviewee to hold the line as there is another call
coming in, and he does apologise. So the interviewee is left on hold while the
interviewer finishes his glass of wine and pours himself another glass. The
interviewee pastes his hair down with spit even though he cannot be seen, but
while on hold he will tidy himself up a bit.
The
interviewer watches the sports headlines on Sky TV before having another sip
from his glass before resuming the interview. Questions about experience and
future career paths are posed and answered. The interviewee
feels confident and smiles at himself in the mirror. The
interviewer loosens his belt and lets his stomach out. The interview is
concluded.
Mr Unkempt
gets through to the next round. This time he has to SSS which means exactly
what it says, SSS. He spends ages in the bathroom , more than his sisters did
when he used to live at home. He wears his best shiny black shoes, only for the
laces to snap, so then he has
to hunt
around to find a lace that matches his shoes. Only he cannot, so he steals a
navy one from a different pair of shoes. He looks in the mirror to see if its
noticeable, and it is, so he loosens his belt, so his trousers hang lower so
that they hide his shoes, only problem is that with his fat belly his trousers
might fall off completely. That would certainly make an impression at the
interview. If he was applying for a farce actor’s position then it would be
great, Brian Rix would be impressed. The interviewer is a power dresser,
his
1000pound suit compared to the 49.99 one worn by the interviewee. And yes the
laces are noticed, immediately. Positive body language v negative body
language, neutral body language. Arms folded, arms open, open legs with hands
on top of knees. Licking of lips, eyes skyward,
eyes averted, eyes straight and looking into the soul. The usual
interview so to speak. Then the waiting for a letter in the post, or an email
for fail. Happy Interviews everybody.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
As these
tears fall, we remember we have been here before.
As
these tears fall, the love we feel hurts so much more. As these tears fall, we
are stunned and don't know what to say.
As these tears fall, we must remember them all.
As these tears fall, we think of the smiles.
As these tears fall, we remember the laughter.
As these tears fall, we remember the kisses.
As these
tears fall, we touch their things that will never be used again.
As these
tears fall, we finish ironing the shirt or the trousers that will never be worn
again.
As these
tears fall, we feel a hole in our heart that aches so much.
As these
tears fall, we remember their touch, comforting and more.
As these
tears fall, we are heartbroken for our lost futures.
As these tears fall, we give thanks for what we did
have.
As these tears fall, love carries on, we will meet
again.
By Michael Casey
I watched
as the candle's life ended, smoke spiralled in the air. I tried to see where
the smoke was going only it just disappeared into nothingness. Another candle
came to an end, but suddenly it rared up a final flicker of flame then it was
gone, black smoke twirling into the air. I strained to see where the smoke was
going only it was no use. I'd need a magnifying glass, binoculars, a microscope
or a periscope, smoke just could not be followed. Another candle went out again
I strained to see where its life had gone, but it was no use, the trail
disappeared into nothingness. The candles were going out randomly, I had to
jump from one to another in a vain attempt to see its moment of death, so that
I could observe what was happening to them. In all 7 maybe 8 candles
"died" as I watched from my position sat next to the candle rack in
the cathedral on my lunch break. That was all yesterday, and today the process
was
repeated.
Each candle is a hope, a wish, a prayer. Just as Jazz music is music turned
into smoke, that weavers and sneaks its way through an audience, a candle and
its smoke is a living flame of hope and love which we all
hope will touch God's spirit and let him hear our prayers.
The smoke from a candle is like a ballet dancer doing the most intricate of
dances, its like girl dancing with a ribbon at the Olympics. Only the candle
and its smoke might say more for us when we can't think of the right words to
say, God Help Us, can be all we can say, but if said from the heart then it is
enough, For Faith Moves Mountains.
And candles
are more than flickers that end in smoke, they remind us of the Light and
Warmth of God's Love.
By Michael Casey
Well the
sun has shone on Birmingham, my wife took the kids to a fancy pool with slides
and so forth. I had said just go down the road, 200 yards to the local swimming
baths. The kids wanted slides so off she drove. Only the Stourbridge centre was
closed. So she soothed the kids with magazines. I just laughed when they got
back, the kids didn't want to try the local baths as they now had something to
read. So the back garden was now the beach, a pink umbrella was now a sun
shade, pink hats were worn and sun tan cream was spread everywhere. The plastic
kids chairs were also dragged out into the garden, the bedspread from one of
the beds upstairs was also dragged into service. The fish radio would also have
been pressed into service only the batteries have fallen out. As for
me I went
out shopping when the edge had gone off the heat. It was a DIY Subway brought
into the home, so we had wraps that we filled with mayonnaise and ham and spicy
stuff. Washed down with fizzy pop and coffee. Ice cream and cones were ready in
the fridge. We had a pudding if that’s the right word of ice cold pineapple and
its juice.
If you've never had pineapple and its juice chilled right
down, then do try it. It was family affair then we settled down for Dr Who on
tv, we cannot decide on the new Dr Who, he just seems silly, we want him to be
great but he isn't.
A kind
neighbour knocked the door to tell us the car window was still open, the kids
had left it that way when they were out searching for a pool. So at least the
car will still be outside in the morning. My girls are off to join a choir in
the morning, so you can imagine what that'll lead too. I can remember my sister
singing and 45 years ago and more "shut up" was how us Casey boys
responded, she's still in that church choir. So If I
reach 100
my own girls could be singing in the Warley Woods choir. So that's our day
today, tomorrow is Pentecost which is when the Holy Spirit came to the
disciples, its a kind of birthday, the birth day of the Church. It was a
beginning and Pentecost can be a beginning for each and everyone of us, we
don't have to speak in tongues or do miracles. Just saying hello to somebody on
the bus or in the street, a simple smile can be a beginning, breaking down
barriers with love.
By
Michael Casey
It’s a
contradiction in terms immediately , how can I copyright a Saint . A brand new
saint at that . I first heard of him through some Religious reading I did . I
feel embarrassed to admit it , but I am a practising Catholic , its not
fashionable to have any Faith but its mine so I admit it . Immediately the
prejudice begins , but if I WERE A Jew or a Muslim , it would be the same . I
do feel that my catholic tastes have given me a broader outlook on life , as
has my eclectic tastes and rubbing shoulders with a wide variety of people .
But I want
to talk about Padre Pio . I had a crisis and was reading about him at the time
, so I said my prayers to him and the way forward was revealed . Though Padre
Pio always says go Higher , he is just a stepping stone on the way to a better
place . What is so hard to understand about Padre Pio is how he suffered . He
had the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune . Condemned by his own
superiors , made to be quiet for a decade and so forth . Science Fiction
teaches or rather amuses us
about Time Travel , but with Padre Pio it really happened ,
he wanted to share in Christ’s agony so he thought , what if he too could have
and suffer the wounds on that day of Crucifixion . So it came to pass that he
suffered for 50years . He had the indignity of medical examinations and of
being thought just to be a mental patient , but his work and life proved his
holiness .
So
it’s nearly 1990 and I hear about him and read a few books , its hard to
understand the value of suffering in this age of quick fix pain killers and the
lets have a
fix
, whatever the fix might be , sex, drugs and rock and roll or whatever . Its
like suddenly studying again after years of lying fallow , the learning curve
is enormous .
So too is
it with Padre Pio , the idea behind his life is enormous , but so too is the
capacity for love and help . My favourite story is how Padre Pio explains that
The Wedding Feast at Cana happened because Jesus could not refuse his mother .
Very Italian , or Irish or Spanish
and so on ,
but could any of us refuse our mothers? So I thought more about what Padre Pio
said , and his
motto of
Pray Hope Don’t Worry became my own . Carpe Diem is another good motto but
perhaps this can be used by any Hedonist , or other kind of selfish person
.Padre Pio
reminds us to pray and that pray is not wasted , its perfume
that is never wasted is a phrase I like . My mother always used to say that if
you couldn’t sleep you should say the Rosary , and she was right . Though in
today’s world an hour on the Internet or with MTV might do the trick .
So why the
devotion to Padre Pio , I’ll cut to the chase. My mother died suddenly but
peacefully in her sleep , my brother tried CPR , but she was gone . Imagine the
anguish amongst her 6 children and her husband of nearly 50 years . All except
me , my mother had said no tears when she go ,so I never cried , I was the odd
one out .I know how prayerful she was , so I had no need of tears . Eight bare
weeks later my brother , the same brother heard our dad fall out of bed , so he
ran to his bedroom
. My
brother was facing the exact same situation , he tried CPR , the ambulance was
called , an injection was given straight to the heart . On weekends there is a
doctor in the ambulance , so Luck , if that’s the word was with us . The next
day 4 of my brothers and sisters came around to tell me the news . When my
sister had come around 8 weeks previously I knew somebody was dead but I
assumed it was my dad , he’s die first we all thought .
At the hospital dad was given 1 week to live , I
cried
like a baby , worse than a baby , but I loved him ,
so I
told he he should go to our mother and not hang on
if he
didn’t want to . The next day I was in my sister’s
house
crying , we picked hymns for his funeral .Yet my
father
survived , 19 patients on a heart ward , 18 died my
dad
survived . Padre Pio was besieged by my prayers , I
put
Padre Pio’s photo under his pillow . Dad lost his
mind ,
he was in Dudley Rd for 3months , 12 weeks , more
than
half of them all tubed up . His life hanging in the
balance . At the same time somewhere in Florida
another
man was at deaths door , he was a totally stranger
to me
,
I didn’t even know his name , I’d never met him , he
was give 24hours to live , a Chinese man from Shanghai was at deaths door . The
Chinaman survived .My dad’s memory was totally wiped , he did not know who I
was, I’m your son was greeted with , am I married . I was the favourite son ,
he did not even know me . But still we prayed , it’s a feeling in your guts ,
just like when you
are nearly
killed as you cross the road , its in your guts and in your heart , Jesus save
my dad , Jesus save my dad , Padre Pio help !!! This goes around your head
like a merry go around or a kaleidoscope . Finally dad awoke
. He said that he can remember hearing the doctor say to wheel him down to the
end of the ward , because he’d be dead soon . At that moment my dad awoke, and
the doctor dropped his cup of tea in shock . No not an instantaneous miracle ,
but as Dr Singh had said if he were 30years younger he’d have a heart
transplant because dad’s heart was rubbish .
Now , when
I told my brother that dad was reading a newspaper he was shocked . His memory
had come back . He knew who we all were .Every day for three months I walked
the corridor at Dudley Rd , the longest hospital corridor
in Europe ,
1 kilometre long . Finally he left the hospital , my sister had found a good
home for him to live in , he was far too weak to live in the family house .
For 3 years
dad survived , like a Godfather with all his children making constant visits .
Finally I met my future wife . It was her uncle who had miraculously survived
at the same time as my father . It was her uncle who encouraged us in our love
. From Shanghai to Birmingham
.These
great men , her uncle and my father never met , but I know Padre Pio must have
helped both of them .
Further prayer was needed to bring me and my wife permanently
together . A Chinese miracle happened . Now we are wed , we have a 2year old
and please God a healthy second baby in the Autumn . The improbability of our
meeting , plus the fact that both men HAD to live for us to be married and have
a family , this may be a coincidence to some but I know a miracle when I see
one. A miracle is something that makes you feel humble , it makes you know that
God has whispered your name . When I look at my wife , I feel humble . Seeing
our daughter
laugh and play
also makes me humble as will our new baby. Then you can look back and know that
prayer is like perfume that can never be wasted , your life has led you to
where you are now , yes at times sad and terrible ,
but be
humble in the sight of God means something , not just for me , but for all
Believers .
I once
stood by the fridge and said to Padre Pio , I give up , you take over , all I
want is to be married , and perhaps have a family , and do something useful
with my life . That was just before my eyes were opened to my wife . I used to
say that I got 2 out of my 3 wishes . Perhaps my current occupation is my 3rd
wish , or a more outstanding miracle is waiting in the wings , but as
I suppose
my love affair with the watch started when I was just a child now 30 years on
the passion is still there . I remember lifting up my dad's shirt sleeve to
look at the watch on his wrist , watching the second hand sweep around and
asking what time was it , not that I really understood the concept of time , I
knew midnight was always dark , that was about it really . Oh apart from some
special time called "opening time" and "closing time" , our
lodgers would pay their rent at the back door before rushing off to the pub ,
it was a mystery to me .
A cousin of ours was to be ordained a priest in
Dublin , so dad and
2 of my
brothers went off to Dublin for the ceremony . I remember Tony coming back with
a watch on his wrist , it had a black strap and had a small face , then at the
bottom was separate dial with a second hand on it , we all thought it was very
posh . So being children we now used this dial to see how long we could hold
our breath , we'd take a deep breath and pump up our cheeks then Tony waved his
hands and we'd start our endurance test . Only stopping when we fell over our
faces brilliant red and our eyes bulging . I remember Tony seemed to win this
game always , not because he cheated but because he loved under water swimming
so had mastered holding his breath . Then we had a contest to run down the yard
past the hedge to the bottom of the garden and touch the fence and
come back
and touch the wall of the house , we were all young and mad then but such
simple fun was all because we had a watch with a second hand .
I badgered
him for a present , for a watch . if I passed the 11 plus exam. Finally he gave
in and gave me his own 2nd best watch , in fact I got it before I even sat the
exam . So the watch Jim gave me was my first watch ever . The trouble with
leather watch straps is that they dig into your flesh , so you loosen the strap
but then the watch dangles , so I compromised by using stretch straps , then
you can slide a stretch strap all the way up your arm , until it feels
comfortable . I also always liked mechanical watches , it was a night time
ritual , taking my watch off and winding it up , setting the time against the
chimes of Big Ben on the radio . So you can see just how important a watch is
to me . There is just one thing I've forgotten to mention , watches always
break . Well when I wear them anyway . For the past 20 years as a computer
operator I'm always carrying something and banging my watch on doors or
whatever . So they break , leaving my watch in the bathroom while I take a bath
was another of my bad habits . Watches steam up on me , or the winder gets
rusty and breaks off , or I break the glass , or the glass falls out . Once the
glass fell out , so I glued it back again , only to
make a mess of the job
and glue the hands of the watch together as well .
Finally I decided to
get a quartz watch , they were accurate , only my
sweaty wrist steamed up
the face constantly , so I couldn't read the time .
On average a watch
lasts me 1 year , my sister Mary always laughs every
time I show her my
latest new watch . A simple Lorex watch was the best
one I ever had , its
long
because when dad was in hospital after mum had died and he had nearly died too
he wanted a watch so he could pass the time , by looking at the watch , so he'd
know when his next meal was , the fact that there was a clock on the wall not 2
yards away did not matter . Of course I took the watch off my wrist and gave it
to him . he was my dad and I loved him , so
if a watch
would please him , he could have mine . That was 4 years ago , dad is called
the miracle man , by the doctors , he beat death , dad's time was up and the
grim reaper made an appearance twice , but dad is still alive and kicking , my
watch ticking on his wrist . Or so it was
until last
month . Jie Jie my Chinese wife bought me a fancy watch for my Birthday so I
gave dad my watch , a fancy Esprit model , and I retired the old one , but I
have kept it as a souvenir , we all thought dad would die in weeks , but his
heart is still ticking as strong and reliable as a
Rolex watch
. I think when we all die , if we are not worthy of Paradise immediately God
will issue us with a Rolex and we have to wear it for a billion years , until
we are worthy of Paradise . God's watch is the turning tides , the movement of
the stars across the heavens and rumbling super novas , after all didn't time
begin with creation . It is us stupid mankind who try to limit it to a dial on
a watch .
I look out
my window the breeze gently rocks the rose bush in my front garden. Loony Chick
the teddy bear or should I say the teddy chick big and bright yellow sits in
the front window. He or is it she, came all the way from Shanghai last Summer
now Loony Chick sits in the window of our Birmingham home. But at least Loony
Chick can still hear some Chinese every day and still smell Chinese food. So
Life is normal for him or is it her? So what is normal? Having your own bed to
sleep in and not some hotel far far away, not grandma's house in Shanghai, not
an uncles house in Shanghai. Just normal, ordinary Birmingham. The clouds are
so bright, the white white candy floss with all its funny shapes. The grey
clouds
are trying
to group together to form rain clouds and then in the middle is the blue blue
sky. This is Nature and is
a Free
Show, just as the breeze can be like a kiss on the cheek, the flowers beginning
to bloom, the buds on the buds on my neighbours apple tree next door, the
golden chain at the bottom of my own garden. Transplanted 20 years ago and more
from my own mum's garden. The technicolour green grass in the garden, the
bluebells in the flower bed and a few stray ones in the lawn itself.
holds such
memories for us. There are a few weeds too and some wild shamrock that survived
this harsh Winter just gone, scattered chalks in the yard, or should I say
patio,
which has drawings all over it, thanks to my artistic girls. Then there is the
view of the washing line with small small clothes on it, until you see my
"flags" giant items blowing in the wind, my clothes are so big
compared to my girls things. When I was in Shanghai the 1st time, now over
10years ago, we could locate Ma's house by my flags hanging from bamboo poles
from the window ledge 4 stories up.
And the
point of all my musings? Today everybody wants to talk about the new PM and the
New Politics, and there will be much noise made. So instead of worrying about
that, why not just sit sit back and have a nice cup of coffee and a Cadburys
Crunchy Bar too. Look outside in the garden and see the bumble bees bumbling,
see the magpies dance about, they may even steal your Crunchy Bar wrapper.
Watch the clouds amble through the sky, listen to that ticking clock on the
shelf besides the hugh Chinese/English dictionary, bound in red of course. The
Tick Tock is soothing compared to the whine of the PC
processor at my feet, I can hear the back door close as my
wife brings in the washing. All these are ordinary things BUT usually they go
unobserved, take time out, if I dare mention a rival chocolate bar, take time
out just to enjoy life. None of this costs any money nor takes any effort, BUT
will be good for your Spirit, failing that
just reach
for the Johnny Walker Red Label, or in my case the Dr Pepper.
I did a
quick google of "michaelgcasey" to see who was looking me up. Then I
clicked on Image to see the snaps of myself. This morning loads of snaps appeared.
This proves several things, my vanity, and who in the whole wide world is
clicking on "michaelgcasey" to check me out. There are family snaps
plus ones of me in a suit, or me in an Australian rugby shirt holding up the
self published version of my book. As you all know I still want a REAL
publisher and me holding up the book in a real book store. That's the image I'd
really like to see.
As you all
also know anybody who has clicked on my stuff or posted stuff in a comment then
their connection appears in a Google search. So their image is tied to my
image, even if really they have no connection to me at all. Its like a stranger
standing in at a wedding photo just for the fun of it. Wedding crashers is the
name of the game. This actually happened at one wedding I attended.
My main
theme though is Image. At a Wedding we all tend to wear our best suits and
polish those black shoes that have been gathering dust at the back of the
closet. We make an effort so to please our mum, our friends, our ex
30K in USD, all so that we look good on the Wedding
photos, we have a day to remember. Personally I say
its
the Marriage that Matters, not the Wedding Day. You
can
read from the Bible and as you read you wonder, how
long
will this Marriage last. Everybody looks so good,
and
they have chosen the best caterers, the cake was
made by
Aunt Ann and she does it for a living, we saved so
much
you know. All this is Image. You could have bought a
brand new car instead, but the Day in King, So even
though we can't afford it, we will have our day so
that
someday in the future somebody somewhere can google
and
find us all dressed to the nines on our wedding day.
Me I
just
bought a new car, I won't even bore you with why. I'll let you all use your
imagination. How many different guesses will you all have?
In Shanghai
and the East they do a photo shoot with various costumes including the
traditional white wedding dress, then they hand out credit card sized photos of
the loving couple. The book is as big as a shopping catalogue with photos
printed on very very thick paper. It’s a nice souvenir, a nice Image.
What of our own individual image. Don't take a photo
my
hair's a mess, say wives and girlfriends and perhaps some TV
reporters, male and female. Let me comb my hair first. Tuck in your shirt, wipe
the pizza from your face. Change your clothes, and the list goes on.
Politicians dress up
or dress
down, Royalty over here do the same. Why? For the sake of image. Before I
change water into wine, I'll just change my tunic... Sorry I cannot kiss him,
he hasn't changed, he needs a shave, he smells. What if it was your dad lying
there, dying there? I've been down that road. A kiss, a touch is PRICELESS,
never let ignorance and image get in the way of love.
This is me, that's what all these blogs are. Though
I'd prefer you'd read the attachments, they are
longer
and
have more depth to them. I'd also hope you'd read the 500page novel The Butcher
The Baker and The Undertaker. Or maybe my play Shoplife.
Though there is more to me and to you than that. I
took
my watch off last night and it set me thinking. Our
possessions define us, what we own shows what kind
of
person we are. My current watch is a cheap Russian
one,
but it’s an automatic one. I've fallen in love with
automatic watches these past 7 years since my
Chinese dad
sent one to me. I also like paintings, real ones
because
there was an Italian art gallery near my house, if I
look
out my window I can see it, the artist is still
there but
he's moved
on, now he does photos printed on canvas, his son's face beams out from the
shop window. I also like Kebabs but I hardly eat them at all now. But I still
love fizzy pop, 100 times more than I like beer. So does this make me a big
kid? Or should I be all grown up and tell lies and pretend to be this and
pretend to be that? I
also love
music, for years I saw bands in an upper room, a very smoke filled upper room.
As well as listening to
lots of music on the radio and buying CDs. Now I've
moved on, I've downloaded my CDs to my PC so while I'm writing I can listen to
my favourite groups.
So there
you have it, a picture of me. If you heard this on the radio instead of reading
it here would you like what you hear? Or the more of the picture you get do you
hate it more and more? Its like the Election 2010 the more we hear from the
different politicians the less or more we hate them. But what about you? What
would you reveal, what would you hide.? It’s like the makeup a woman puts on.
If its done right it highlights her best features, but if its done wrong, it
can be as bad as a
child putting its mom's makeup on. Its your tone of
voice
which has to connect with or sooth the listener.
Just as
a mum sooths a sick child, or just as a dad scolds a
naught child. Warmth can be heard in a voice, anger
and
violence can be heard in a voice, a voice can be as
bad
as chalk screeching on a blackboard. That’s why
songs and
music is so sweet because instantly it connects with
our
souls. If I'm very lucky it takes 20seconds for my
words
to reach your heart, music is so fast and so
powerful,
that’s why I admire and am jealous of music makers.
This is Me and This is You, you are the reader I
hope you
like what I write, I DO write so that people hear my voice,
I'm not clever enough to write long literary passages. I hope I write as the
average reader would write if they had the time to do so. Somebody was very
kind the other day and she said she liked my stuff. So I can say that a little
encouragement does go a long way. So when your son or daughter won't put the
light out because they have not quite finished their diary, just be patience,
just as you have been with me.
61.
May time of Spring flowers and Bitter sweet memories
May is a month full of memories. Tomorrow my wife is 33, so its happy birthday
to her.
Next Friday
, one week after her Birthday its the 10th anniversary since my mum died
2
months after that ,my dad died, my brother did CPR and
saved him long enough for the doctor to come injection straight to the heart.
Dad had died , but was revived. He was given a week to live. I sat in my
sisters house a few hundred yards from mine and we picked hymns for dads
funeral.
But he came
back, read Padre Pio and Me for details www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
Later in
May just 2 years ago my wife's dad was killed in an accident in Shanghai. I
rushed home from the hotel, my eyes full of tears. Only he agreed with me and
said I'd been right to send JJ back to China with he message to tell her
parents all my bad points. Now still young he was dead. He died a few days
before his granddaughter's 3rd birthday, his 2nd granddaughter was still only 7
months old.
Two deaths
and 2 Birthdays that’s what May brings. Every May brings the promise of Spring
and Happiness that
Birthdays bring. But it is balanced by 2 deaths. Death of a
mum for me, and death of a dad for my wife.
Eternal
balance and equilibrium .I remember my mum standing by the fridge in her blue
and white smock, that was the last time I saw her, apart from in her coffin
when I kissed her ice cold cheek. So much warmth now it was all gone. My sister
went back to her house one day a few weeks after the funeral. There were
flowers growing everywhere, white daisies growing everywhere. Our mum had
sneaked up to my sister’s house on the 82 bus, then she'd planted seeds. Their
scent was her memorial. Always
loving her
children, her 6 children, now the flowers were her smile goodbye.
I had put
my wife on the first flight to Shanghai, I rung the hotel and said I'd be back
in 2 weeks, I was left holding the babies, while my wife dashed off. Her dad
was not quite dead when she arrived in Shanghai, he was on support and still
warm, JJ had time to kiss him goodbye. Then she had to arrange the funeral.
Now I wear
my Chinese dad's best watch on my wrist, I have always loved watches , now I
have a good one , all because somebody had died. May is a time of celebration
in China and the East , the Spring Festival and so forth.
For me May reminds me of my blessings, a mom who gave me such
a deep Faith, as deep as I need it, and we all know
that can be
very deep indeed especially in time of need. My dad survived because of a
miracle and I am not abusing the word. My prayers were heard and now I have 2
daughters too when then I had no clue what the future would do.
May moves
me and I hope it moves you all, none of us can predict the future, no matter
how hard we try but I know my ma and a are looking down from up there in the
sky.
Over 40
years ago one Summer my brother needed to go to the library, so he took all of
us in toe. The library is
a fine old
building from the Victorian age when it was thought you could educate the
working class masses. You can google and find out more for yourself, or maybe
there is an old English history book in your own local library. Anyways we got
to the library and it was shut, so my brother said "at least you've seen
the library." It was a hot summer's day and we had all just walked 2 miles
and it would be 2 miles back. I can remember there was a little sweet shop
right next door, but I don't remember if we had any money for sweets on that
occasion. It was
before the tower blocks were built at Spring Hill,
this
was around the time that old houses were demolished
and
the brand new idea of tower blocks was invented. It
makes
me realise just how much the passage of time has
passed.
I'm like Bill Clinton now in that speech he gave,
"I have
seen more Summers than I will see." I've
reached part two
of my life,
the part that leads to the end. Personally I feel my Life has not yet begun,
does this make me a child or am I in denial? I still have dreams and you all
know what they all, they are attached to my blogs. Back to the
library, we have one at the bottom of my street, so we're
getting our girls to use it. No need to walk to the Victorian one, which still
stands, and they even diverted a new road to save the old library and now its a
listed building, and still opens occasionally. So instead we walk to the bottom
of our street, and to the right is the library, I think it was built in the
30s. Inside I get my girls to browse and pick up as many books as they can.
Nowadays you are allowed to borrow 12 books at a time, when I was using a
library it used to be four. I read
Sir Arthur
Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes books when I was 12 or so, I never became a
detective, I was just hiding from Mr Gallagher and his hit slipper, that
started at the age of 8 and changed my life for the better. Corporal punishment
hurts the butt but focuses the mind. Once bitten twice shy so to speak. I ended
up as Head Boy too. And all because of not knowing my times tables, but I was
never hit again, I made sure of that, There was the class library on the
bookshelves besides me so I practically read everything, literally everything,
mainly History. When I left Primary school I was given The Outline Of History
by H.G.Wells by the headmaster. It sits on the bookshelf to my right, next to
an enormous
dictionary, and a little fairy next to a photo of my
girls with just enough room for a clock, I do love a
nice
clock, and watch for that matter. Back to the
library at
the end of the road my girls browse and my smallest
one
chooses a few books with bears inside, anything
remotely
like Pooh Bear always interests her. She finally
settles
for 10 books and her big sister has five. Its still
the
Easter holidays so I want to keep their minds
occupied. A
bit of reading and then TV and cartoons, all things
Roal
Dahl on tv are always a bit hit. As we leave the
library
"Daddy when will your books be in the
library." "Whenever
I find a
publisher." is my reply full of hope. We cross over the road so they can
look at comics in the store, then its off home, later after they have done some
reading there will be reward while we do some shopping. I can still remember my
mother teaching me to read by looking at the Phantom cartoon in the local
newspaper, more than 45 years ago. Now my big daughter as I call her is on
Library books and she's away, my little daughter who calls herself the cutest
while her big sister is the prettiest she just needs a bit of encouragement and
then she too will be flying. My little daughter says she wants
to be a doctor, she has a plastic stethoscope already, so
only time will tell. I tell both of them to try and remember everything so they
can in turn tell their own kids. My big daughter wants to be a designer so if
she's a designer and her sister is a doctor then I'd be so proud. Us, we the
Parents are stepping stones for our children to stand on, our shoulders are
there so they can stand on them, and books are food to feed their appetite.
I wanted to
write a piece to celebrate Halloween, Christopher Lee the great Dracula actor
got Knighted today, was the spurr. However this time of year brings back a few
memories to me. 1977 was a turning point in my Life. 1986 another turning point
and 1999 a 3rd turning point. Why Autumn should be such a turning point I'll
never know. The Love my father had for all of us stands out amongst these
anniversaries. November was his Birthday as well, his last Birthday was his
80th, we had a gathering
at my
sister's house, he held his granddaughter in his arms, he'd beaten Death and
had 5.5 years of extra time. When I bought my house his advice was
"Michael, buy that house" So I did. The dog had actually found the
house,
he had
cocked his leg and christened the gate post, and it was only then that I saw
the for sale sign.
Now I dream
of a bigger house for my girls, so that they can have a room to do art in, even
if it is the garage. My youngest even has dreams about us living in a big white
house, the one on the school run, and that we have a dog and a cat. I'd just
love to have a bigger house closer to the park and the woods. That's been a
dream of
mine for 30 years at least, so I suppose I have brain washed
my girls. Though I do miss the days when at the family home we did have a cat
and a dog. One of the dogs even went to the seaside with us, even attending
Mass, and delighting a blind boy by licking him all over when he bumped into
him on the beach.
I do sing
If I were a Rich Man, from time to time, and then break down in pretend tears,
saying why do I have girls, 3 girls, if you include the wife. They laugh as I
do all the
actions and become a Birmingham version of Topol, though the Jazz
improvisations are all mine. Though I might add that my local priest does look
like Topol and sing as well too, Life does imitate Art after all. When finally
it is time for bed and I get my girls
to say
their prayers, they add " and please Jesus can we have a big white house
and a cat and a dog called SubWay" Direct and to the point, but Padre Pio
used to say always ask for the big grace, so if you all excuse me for
tonight, I
just have to say my prayers before I go to bed, I was thinking about asking for
a cat, and a dog called Subway just for the kids and maybe a big white house
for us to share with the animals. It is Autumn
after all and big things always happen in Autumn or
should I say the Fall
Telephone interviews are a new feature of the modern
world. With so many people chasing those jobs, it’s
the
fastest way to sort the wheat from the chaff. There
are
good and bad points to it. The interviewer can be
sat on
the bed in a 4star hotel with a nice bottle of wine
gently breathing beside him as he asks questions
over the
phone. As for the interviewee he can be in his
dressing
gown with 5 days worth of stubble on his face, his
hair
unwashed and uncombed, a hole in his slippers. Then
politely they talk about the skill set the
interviewee
can bring
to the task, how much experience he has doing this and doing that. The
interviewer can ask the interviewee to hold the line as there is another call
coming in, and he does apologise. So the interviewee is left on hold while the
interviewer finishes his glass of wine and pours himself another glass. The
interviewee pastes his hair down with spit even though he cannot be seen, but
while on hold he will tidy himself up a bit.
The
interviewer watches the sports headlines on Sky TV before having another sip
from his glass before resuming the interview. Questions about experience and
future career paths are posed and answered. The interviewee
feels confident and smiles at himself in the mirror. The
interviewer loosens his belt and lets his stomach out. The interview is
concluded.
Mr Unkempt
gets through to the next round. This time he has to SSS which means exactly
what it says, SSS. He spends ages in the bathroom , more than his sisters did
when he used to live at home. He wears his best shiny black shoes, only for the
laces to snap, so then he has
to hunt
around to find a lace that matches his shoes. Only he cannot, so he steals a
navy one from a different pair of shoes. He looks in the mirror to see if its
noticeable, and it is, so he loosens his belt, so his trousers hang lower so
that they hide his shoes, only problem is that with his fat belly his trousers
might fall off completely. That would certainly make an impression at the
interview. If he was applying for a farce actor’s position then it would be
great, Brian Rix would be impressed. The interviewer is a power dresser,
his
1000pound suit compared to the 49.99 one worn by the interviewee. And yes the
laces are noticed, immediately. Positive body language v negative body
language, neutral body language. Arms folded, arms open, open legs with hands
on top of knees. Licking of lips, eyes skyward,
65.
Let them eat cake or how the wife tried to poison me
My wife loves cake. She always brings home some really nice cake and if I'm
lucky I get the crumbs, and I mean crumbs. But we end up laughing so that's
fine, the kids love cake too. So I'll see the wrapper and be told that
it was the
kids fault and there was none left. I'm too big already I'm told, so I get
none. You can get some really nice cake in Sainsbury's or you can get some cake
and coffee in Druckers ‘cafe in the city centre by House of Fraser. My mum used
to buy glazed ring donuts when I was a child, somehow I always ended up with 2
or sometimes 3. That's a long time ago now. As for the wife and her cake, she
loves eating it and there is Chinese cake which is different to western cake.
So the wife decided to make cake and I was the crash test dummy so to speak.
The first attempt was ok but the filling was not totally baked. I still ate it
anyway. The crust was a
little
burnt too, but didn't King Alfred burn the cakes too, so she is in very good
company. Next she contacted the good and the great in the Chinese community,
even the Dr wife of the Dr who had given me acupuncture last week. No it wasn't
a medical problem, just what was the methodology for making the best cakes.
Chinese people are
totally focused on anything they do, whether its science,
industry, building Shanghai, or as I've discovered making cakes. There is good
news though, the one think Chinese people are bad at, is, drinking beer. They
fall over after just a few pints. So my wife armed with fresh insight and the
correct gas setting for the oven tried again. The second attempt was even
better, I was scolded for eating all her hard work. She even left a trail of
flour dust
all over the computer after she'd checked a Chines site which had a cookery
section. Today she was practicing making beef, so obviously I had to try it,
and it was very good. The 3rd attempt at baking was also today. And it was
perfection, her Chemist training no doubt had helped, even if she joked she was
a Chemist and she could kill me if she wanted. The cakes were good and I
reluctantly had to leave some for the kids for when
they got home from school. Tomorrow another lot of
baking
will happen .I will pretend to be a porcupine as I
have
more acupuncture while downstairs my wife will be
dressed
in her bright red cook's bib with the Korean writing
on
as she cooks. Masterchef in our house.
I remember my first radio, it was a small blue
plastic
tranny. I can remember when we heard the news on it
that
RFK had been assassinated. I remember the white
plastic
family tranny we had. I remember the old Bush radio
with
the saucer dial, that is now called retro. Having
that
radio given to us by Frank Brown a lodger of ours
changed
my life. We used to listed to the world tonight with
Douglas Stewart reporting followed by the book at
bed
time. I can remember listening to The Ghost and Mrs
Muir,
only I fell asleep so my brother had to tell me what
happened. I always had a radio beside me, it was my
company when me brother left home, company while I
did my
homework and studied for my O Levels. Listen to
Radio 4
constantly
for 20 years. Perhaps hearing 3 plays a week for all those years, enjoying
words, enjoying knowledge and news. When I heard about DAB I just had to have
one, though they do eat batteries big time. I even bought an adapter so I can
hear DAB through my HiFi. Real radio was my favourite until it disappeared,
stations with Music and less prattle and talking over songs were my joy of DAB.
I even bought a personal DAB radio as a Birthday present to myself 5 years ago.
My Ferguson is still going
strong, though my daughter has stolen it these Easter
holidays and wants one of her own, even though she has a Blick DAB in her
bedroom. Yes I am in love with radio, and if anybody wants to give me their
DABs because their love affair is over then just send them along. AND if there
are any fancy Pure personal dabs to be had I'd love them too, that way all my
family could have one and I wouldn't have to hide my personal Dabs from my two
girls. Radio can change a life and radio really is company, in some ways it has
been a best friend to me, 40 years a friend and I hope 40 more years of
friendship, though I'd rather hear my own plays on the radio. I can spot a
radio 4 play at 100 yards now........
How do YOU
blog? And perhaps more importantly, Why do you blog? I was thinking about my
next blog here when I thought instead of writing about today's events I write
about how I get to write about today's and any day's events. Me, I've started
writing back in 1987, I kind of stumbled into it like I've done most things in
my life.
It did take
my 1 year to learn, learn the hard way to write. I hope that I'm a better
writer because of this. Little stories gave way into an attempt to write a
book. Sat in front of the gas fire, on an old barn chair with the back cut off
I perched a typewriter on a stool and away I went. I ended up with a 235 page
novel which I then called "A Nation Of Shopkeepers", which was
Napoleon's contemptuous phrase for the English. Until Wellington cut him down
to size. A few years later I decided I wanted more that just one typescript of
my "masterpiece" so I bought an Atari 520 and started Copy typing it
all out, so then I'd have it on a computer and I could make multiple copies. I
should add that the novel doubled in size and I renamed it The Butcher The
Baker and The Undertaker, I still have those multiple copies scattered around
my house, just in case of fire or
theft. 10 years ago when I met my Shanghai rose we had to
invest in a proper computer and Internet so my wife could talk to her mum in
Shanghai. As for me it was a chance to have a website so that my babies were
safe in cyberspace. It also gave me a chance to blog. Now IF you compare one of
my essays, attached to these blogs, then you can see there is a difference in
style. I hope my blogs read as
if its a
bedtime story, your nan or grandpa is sitting in the chair beside you and he's
recounting a funny story that makes you feel secure and happy and lets you
drift off to sleep. For me its writing practice, if you don't practice then you
forget how to do it. It’s also a short form of writing that takes no more than
an hour or much less, but it gives you a chance to "preach" to the
rest
of the
world. You can also make friends. I used to practice my writing on positive
thoughts.com and there were lots of nice folks there, one post got 800 views.
The forum has now closed that's why I annoy people on this site instead. But
back to my theme, why do we all blog, well its so we can all say "hey
listen to me " , "I'm just as good as you", ultimately we have
our own tv/radio station via our blogs. Or perhaps I should say Newspaper, it’s
a chance to share, to boast, to grow
are some good jokes that do the rounds and I do like
them, not to forget the poems and thoughts that are
shared. I was once in a bar in County Kerry and the
pub
was owned by an Irish writer, his book The Field was
made into a film with Richard Harris. His niece told
me
that he wrote because it was "in him".
What does that
mean? I think I understand because the stories that
are
"in me" just have to come out. Even if you
stop writing
and its only as you are picking up litter around the
4star hotel car park that that ideas come back to
you,
then you can begin to understand what "in
me" means. Just
as musicians have the music in them, so words are in
me
and in you all as you blog here and now on this
Multiply
site. Do
you wait for all the story to be ready in your head or do you just start with
an idea and wait for the Muse to take you where it wants to go. I enjoy going
with the flow, it’s like closing your eyes when you are on a
long
journey and when you open your eyes you have arrived at some place totally
different, like crossing a border
in the
night. While I blog my big daughter sometimes sneaks downstairs so she can
watch and read as I write something. Or when I finish a new blog I get her to
have
Some Poetry for you all. Normally I write comedy
Let There Be Light ©
By Michael Casey
Let my tears be my words
Let the candle light be my eyes
Let the flowers in bloom be my lips
Let their scent be my blood
Let the wind be my breath
Let clouds be my mood
Let children’s laughter be my hope
Let widows’ sighs be my conscience
Let a stranger’s prayers be my delight
Let the bees be my wisdom
Let the trees be my strength
Let my patience reach to the stars
Let me be always remembered in your prayers
This next
poem is from my novel The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker which is a
comedy/drama
Percy is a
Poet who happens to be an Undertaker. He has a fight with a builder and the builder
runs for Parliament and wins because Percy takes him on a tour of the rest
homes. Now read a poem from Percy
by
Michael Casey
I first saw
a deceased when I was nine years old ,my father said not to worry as the dead
are the same as the living , only the laughter has left them , the sparkle has
gone from their eyes , the worry has been lifted from their shoulders , and
their voice has vanished to eternity .
In paradise the sparkle will return for it is the
twinkle of the
stars , the
laughter will return too for it is the morning breeze and the turning tides are
their sides shaking with laughter .
I
treat the deceased with the same courtesy as I give to the living , though I
find the deceased are always more polite . My father also had a few words to
say about the living .
He said
that the living are only the caretakers of the soul , yet they think their
existence is everything , that they know everything because they experience
many things with their senses .
What the living
don't acknowledge is that their time is short and when I lay their bodies to
rest then their souls continue without them , without their strong , without
their weak , without their beautiful or even ugly temporary form , to where I
cannot say , only that it is a better place .
Percy the
undertaker placed the lid on the coffin ,the soul was free THE BEGINNING
You're
Never Alone When You Are in Love © By
Michael Casey
Love is being together , Love is a smile , a Look ,
A Touch
Or Just A
Sigh , Not really knowing why you chose one another . Yet Together Till You Die
Love is a
Kiss soft and gentle on the cheek which warms your heart and makes you glad you
chose one another .
A Kiss can
lead to more but I'll leave Passion locked Safely behind a bedroom door
Passion spent you'll not give up each not even for
Lent .
You'll just
lie in warm embrace and remember you forgot to say grace .
Whispers
and Promises are made , plans for the future and if she put her hair this way ,
Do you think it would suit her ?
Then
giggles and more embraces , Till the Night is over and with a dig in the ribs
you make him move over .
Then your
oneness complete , you have to put up with his cold feet !
But when
you are apart your hearts are still one , Thought half is absent you are still
one .
His
"toys" scattered about , and the clout you'll give when he returns
and the warmth of your body he yearns .
His cold
feet to chill you after he thrills you , are absent yet the thought makes you
smile , at least you have the comfort for a while. His grins and leers , which
makes you smile at least you'll have peace for a while .
But his
heart is still with you , the love is always there - as bright as your fair
hair .
Close
your eyes and he is still there , Remember the embrace as he played his fingers
across your face .
Let
your dreams go and remember the whispers in your ear , warm kisses on your
shoulder before he gets bolder . The warmth of love that soars through your
blood .
Dream
long , Dream deep , your Man toils while you sleep , though you are apart you
are still together whatever the weather , for you are never apart for he is
locked in your heart .
Though
sometimes he can be trying , there's Never any need of crying for your love is
Undying.
Always
remember he fills your heart even when you are apart End
That's all the poems I can share at the moment.
Crawling
Like a Worm in The Dirt, humbled by a photo copier.
by Michael Casey
This is one
piece from essay/blog postings, I type fast so excuse any mistakes.
Well this
is my 100th post, I had hoped I could think up something nice or even
spectacular. This is what I've come up with. I'm laughing now as I type.
Yesterday 5minutes after I started work I bent down to fill up the copiers. I
filled one, then another, then I did a third.
I then
screamed, I had straightened up too fast and had ricked/strained my back on the
right hand side. So these past 27hours have been a lesson in pain and humility.
I felt such a fool at work, the girls I work were both sympathetic and funny.
Somebody came by for some coloured paper , I bent down to look under our shelf
and I was racked with pain, one girl told me to crawl away out of
the way so
that she could find it instead. I hobbled away, out of the way. The rest of day
I moved about like an 80 year old, rather like my own dad. I hoped that on my
lunch break while I sat for 30mins in the cathedral my back would be restored.
We stand all day in our print as
some of you may remember me mention. Prayer and rest for
30mins no doubt aided my soul but not my back. I went back to work and hobbled
about for a couple of hours.
Then I
decided I really had to go home and rest. Getting home I got off the bus and
had to walk only 300yards, a crippled Charlie Chaplin kind of walk, though I
look more like Oliver Hardy. I was home 2 hours earlier than normal so the
family were surprised.
I told them
I was fired as a joke. Then I sat down on an old chair and then I could hardly
move. Standing up again was an impossibility. Last Friday we had a drama with
my youngest, this Friday, Friday 13th it was my turn. My girls all laughed at
me, just as I would laugh at them if the tables were reversed. Night came and
knew I could never climb the stairs to bed, but at least our bathroom was
downstairs. So I tumbled onto our sofa and got ready to spend the night there.
Only we have a glass coffee table in front of it and I was afraid of falling
off onto
it. So at
1am I staggered up the stairs like a drunk with locked joints, then I rolled
onto my bed, screaming as I did so. I did sleep, but in the morning I had to
slither out like a snake sliding out of bed on my belly. Some positions were
possible and some were not. My wife
I laughed
and cursed and laughed again. My wife went to see the pharmacy man for advice
and a spray for me. The pharmacist laughed too, he's an old friend. When she
got back I was all sprayed up, the old spray and the newly bought one drenching
me and my room with the stench of a bad back. I slithered in and out of bed,
crawling around
as I
couldn't stand up straight. As for getting down stairs that would be an
impossibility. My wife went shopping, stopping first to steal my debit card,
laughing she left me in my bed of pain. When she returned she gave me yoghurt
and orange juice. Later I just had to go downstairs, but I couldn't walk. I
slithered off bed like snake, then made it to my hands and knees, then an
inspired idea. I bounced down the stairs one step at a time, on my butt , one
step at a time. Then I crawled across our living room and pulled myself up onto
a chair.
I did
notice that we needed a new carpet after 20years our carpet does need
replacing. I then rewarded myself by stealing my wife's pork she'd just made.
Later after
some movements like belly dancer of 120 years old, I managed to straighten up.
I do walk as if I have a full diaper though. I made it too my big chair in
front
The moral of all this? Well I am a very bad patient.
Health is the most important thing in our lives. I
rejoice that my girls have a good sense of humour,
even
if I am the butt of it all. Last year when I had
food
poisoning they had plenty to laugh about then. And I
do
laugh at that memory. We are all worms crawling in
the
dirt. It is
God's love that lifts us up, as does our family life. Sometimes it is only
though pain and adversity that we learn such truths, sometimes we learn mundane
things, but they too have meaning for us, even if it’s just the fact that we
need a new living room carpet.
By
Michael Casey
The trouble
with technology is that we all use it , now if we just left it all alone then
we all have no problems
. Simple
really but we all just can't leave it alone , we all just have you use it . In
the beginning if we wanted water we'd fetch the bucket and drop it down a well
. My mother was born just 30feet from the sea , but they were fortunate because
they had their own well , so they went outside and dropped the bucket down the
well and then they had water . Then technology comes along and we just turn a
tap and we have clean water instantly . We have hot water too , at the turn of
a tap . In one generation so many changes . However technology then works
against us , because we assume it will always work and that there will be no
problems
We don't
even know where the stopcock is , so our homes flood and then we discover we
are not covered by our insurance .
My mother
grew up with an oil lamp hanging above , no luxury of gas lamps for her , as
for electricity , that
was just a dream . Nowadays how could any society
manage
without electricity , its impossible to believe life without
electricity . No tv , no radio , no freezers , no street lighting , no traffic
lights, the list goes on and on . As for indoor plumbing , the luxury of a hot
bath , the WC in the home . My mother grew up with no indoor plumbing , if you
needed the bathroom as the American's say , then you'd leave the house and pick
your spot in a field with the cows gazing on , as for toilet paper you had a
blade of grass to wipe your %^** . As for me we did not have such hardships ,
we had an outside WC , which we did not have to share with any other family ,
just 8 Caseys sharing our outside bog/toilet . There was a yard light to
illuminate the way and a light in the toilet too
. Which was
sheer luxury compared to my mum's and my dad's childhoods . My dad would always
come home and immediately switch off the yard light because it was wasting
electricity . Then a shout would go up "Put the light on" , and my
dad would always say "I didn't know" . Then there was the indignity
of running out of paper . My brother Tony had a very good sense of humour so it
was always the case that I'd shout from the yard "More Bog Roll"
which is the English slang for toilet paper . Tony was kind so he'd always
bring out a fresh supply of paper
,
only he liked to tease so he'd push one sheet , just
one sheet of paper under the door and say that's all there was in the house ,
and that mom said I'd have to use my finger . Then he'd go away laughing . He
always left a full roll of paper on the doorstep , much to my relief .
Simple
technology , we all take for granted , water and electricity . What does all
this technology do for us ?
It gives us
independent comfortable lives , we have clean water , hot water , light and
warmth . Then with the miracle of TV we can all watch the world go by , from
the comfort of our homes , or the local bar whichever is our true home . We are
now a global village as has often been said , but then we become antisocial as
its easier to watch tv than to interact with real people , we'd rather watch
fiction on tv than have a real life . But with technology we can send an email
to our neighbour across the road , with pictures and video , rather than leave
our castle homes , rather than going over for a coffee and a bar of chocolate
.That's one view the optimistic view says that we truly can break down barriers
by using the miracle of email to keep us connected though we are thousands of
miles apart . I have to hold my hand up and
admit that I am an email Junky , I did send up to 5 emails a
day to my friend in another part of the office , because we were both having
fun . Then when I fell in love with my one true love it was ONLY because of the
miracle of email that our love survived .I sent my girlfriend long long emails
everyday for 6 months . She was in Shanghai while I was in Birmingham . My
heart was breaking with love and hope until finally she came back to me . I'd
come home from work at 3am and hit the keyboard , with luck because of the time
difference we'd actually be live and talking almost in real time .You cannot
imagine how heart rending it was to come home to an email , to get up in the
afternoon and read an email before going on night shift .I think whoever
invented email should be made a saint, without email our love would not have
lasted . An exchange of letters takes 14 days from Birmingham to Shanghai , so
thank God for email and God himself KNOWS just how much I mean that , Sainthood
is not high enough reward for the inventor of email .Is it Saint Bill Gates ?
The telephone is
fantastic ,
but too expensive , I know my phone bill reached 4 figures , but an email can
be read over and over again , and even printed off , so it is a letter.
So I confess email is the most important leap in technology
of the 20th Century , as far as I am concerned .
The next
stage in the technology story are mobile phones that send/receive video and tv
, so we are literally wired up where ever we are in the world science fiction
becoming science fact . We all used empty match boxes to pretend we were
Captain Kirk communicating to the Enterprise but now they are here for real .
If you have been in a theatre church, hospital and these things bleep you have
to decide for yourself are they useful or just a real pain in the *&^% . On
balance they are good , but people have to be a lot more considerate , nobody
else wants to hear their conversations if they are in church or at the theatre
or even cinema . I remember a
conversation I had at dinner on Xmas Eve just gone ,
the
guy sat next to me happen to design mobile phones ,
he
was very very good at his job , but I did warn
caution
about saturation point being reached . Then today
4months
on , I am proved right , the mobile giants are in
trouble
,
why , because of saturation point now being reached .
I don't want to end on low note , so I'll tell another anecdote , we all
remember when we had our first colour
tv , how wonderful it was and how we all marvel and the
colours . The BBC started showing snooker because of the colours , and now tv
without snooker would be unimaginable . Then remote control came in , so we'd
try different positions and even outside the house and through the glass into
the room where the tv was . Technology makes us all like children , its
supposed to be a triumph of engineering and technology but really its our
greatest toy , and our greatest joy . On Saturday my dad will come out of the
old peoples home to spend the day with me and my Chinese wife in our home .
I'll be able to show him the internet and I hope I can bring tears of joy to
his eyes as I show him County Kerry on the computer monitor . Sitting in my
living room in Birmingham he can read the Irish newspapers and see his homeland
where he started as a blacksmith in the 1930s . This is how we should be using
technology
As I speak
my wife is painting the bathroom. Its 9:45pm and the kids are all tucked up in
bed. So she can paint away to her heart’s content. She is a much better painter
than me, if any of you have trawled to the bottom of my site you will have read
Michael’s Bathroom a tale of paint and disaster from 11 years ago, from before
I met my Shanghai wife. That’s her 10years ago on my profile photos. Right now
she’s wearing her pink and red strawberry pattern pyjamas while she paints. She
is very good, she can even do intricate calligraphy, I think its because she’s
good at that so she’s good with a paint brush in her hands. Earlier I had to
test our 5 year old ready for her spelling test in the morning. She got 10/10
last week so we want her to continued. I got her to write the spellings out
while I said them for her, you have to try and sound out all the letters, and
remember the “baby” pronunciations too. She got lunch wrong she spelt it “luch”
so I got her to write it out ten times correctly, only she wrote it out ten
times incorrectly,
so I
encouraged her again and she wrote it out 10 times again, but this time
correctly. We never had any of this
40 years ago, education has progressed in leaps and bounds.
My other daughter had homework and a crossword too, I had to explain what
crosswords were all about, and not arguing, but words that crossed and fitted
into each other like Jigsaws. She also had some maths, she was on a high
because she was the best in her class that day. The teacher made her a bracelet
out of stickers as a reward. But my big daughter has been “cheating”, while she
was in Shanghai her grannie, Ma, had given her lots of homework every day. Ma was
the accountant for the bus company you see, when I 1st visited Shanghai in 2000
I had been in her office and there is a photo of me trying to safe
crack her
safe, the bus company safe. My daughter has in fact got a photo of Ma and my
wife with the safe behind them on her bedside table. Ma’s brother a former
journalist also gave my daughter homework while she was visiting his house for
a few days. So it was that combination of Chinese discipline and love, that had
helped her so much. Now she is in bed asleep, the smell of paint is slowly
drifting towards me though 2 doors are firmly closed, but in the morning I will
have a new bathroom, so much better compared to when I did it. Being married
these past few years has given me an appreciation
of the finer things in life, and one of them is to know when
to “allow” my wife to dabble with a paintbrush. We just have to make sure the
girls don’t touch anything in the morning. I should say that one thing I go get
my girls to do every night is to say their prayers. At the moment there is a
little girl of about their age who has just been diagnosed with cancer, so I
ask my girls to pray for her. They say that a sinner’s prayers are golden
,
a child’s prayers are golden too, so if any of you who
are reading this can spare some time then DO pray for that child. I remember
back in 1998 I was in Paris and I stumbled on a funeral and they were saying
that the deceased was a traveller and there I was a traveller at his funeral,
so of course I prayed for him. So now I ask the same of you, please pray for
this child.
Tomorrow is
another day, tomorrow I may have a new job, I’ve been redundant 8 weeks
tomorrow. I could be getting a new job with a different Law Firm. All I need is
a new lick of paint and then I’ll be ready for the rest of my
life. It would be a good birthday present too, that’s
all
I have to
say tonight, except buy some paint brushes for the Love in your life.
My girls
are home at last after 8 weeks in Shanghai, so I'm no longer Home Alone. I'm
not like the kid in the film, I'm a grown up, or so I'm told. My 2 small
daughters plus the wife were in Shanghai visiting the Mother-in-Law, or Ma as
we all call her. My smallest
shed a few
tears as she missed me so much. My big daughter as I call the other one
discovered the joys of IM, so she could send me messages. We did use the camera
as well, and the voice aspect too. One daughter spoke to me while the other
sent cartoons and silly things via IM, I got my
big
daughter to practice "the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy blue
dog" as an exercise. I can remember my brother doing that 30years ago or
more when he taught himself typing and Pitman shorthand.
My parents
could never dream of such modern technology, text, voice, and full voice and
camera. If you saw a postman once in a blue moon, now that was something
special, though that was back in 1920s/30s Country Kerry. Now the generations
have moved on, technology is king. My kids went to the zoo and saw not 1 but 3
pandas and one was a baby panda. Something big to boast about when they return
to primary school in a few days time. They also
went to the new beach by Ma's house. There wasn't one there
10years ago when I first visited, so they decided to build one and charge
people 30RMB each to use it. It looked nice on the photos they emailed me,
however as its that part of the world you do have to be careful, because there
are small sharks around. A great experience for such small children, they have
come home speaking even more Shanghai dialect. They moved around too and spent
time at various houses belonging to uncles and aunties. The Film uncle, the USA
uncle, the Army uncle, the Taxi uncle, I cannot pronounce the names so we have
shorthand to explain who is who. I have a Chinese name, Panzi, it means FAT FAT
BOY, because I'm so big compared to the Chinese side of the family. They also
saw Google cousin, because she and her husband work for Google. They did go to
the Irish pub and send me a photo showing them enjoying themselves, I think
that should be classed as torture, there I was Home Alone while they were in
the Irish Pub in Shanghai, it’s near the US Embassy if ever
you are
over there. They came home via Frankfurt, and 2 bags got lost because of
equipment failure, but luckily the bags appeared, along with my wife/kids'
treasure, shoes, a bag of shoes. I got a silk duvet, and that is a
p.s. The
house is so noisy again after 8 weeks of silence!
We all have
different views on what is funny. Americans seem to like custard pie humour,
where the joke is telegraphed. Pie face pie face, custard pie in face. Say like
Laurel and Hardy. Over here in England it’s a bit different. I can remember
Monty Python starting on TV, I was in 1st or 2nd year of Grammar school. We had
to explain to our French teacher what was all this "woody" business,
Monty who? was his reply. Different styles of humour work in different different
places. As you all know a baby can hear while in the womb. So why does our
youngest daughter have such a good sense of humour. Was it because of us her
parents, her West meets East in her blood. you know what we think, while my
wife was visiting she was 7/8 months pregnant, so the unborn baby heard her
Chinese granddad making jokes and making everybody laugh. So that at an early
age she is a mimic and makes us
laugh,
michaelgracycasey she calls me, putting on a deep voice and reciting what my
prayer is, let my comedy book be published and can we have a bigger house,
please god.
And pumping
up her shoulders too. This makes us laugh and is a natural thing, a 5 year old
cannot be taught this.
My own dad used to say "your ear is very near
me", which
was an implied threat, so it told us to behave. Me and my
sister remember this and laugh, a 40year old laugh, I have told my own kids
this and the smallest says it back to me in her deep voice. So it will pass
down the generations, a remembrance, a prayer almost.
I was a
concierge in a 4star deluxe hotel for 3years, this job gave me plenty of time
to watch and learn from people. It also gave me a chance to practice my stand
up while dealing with people. In the main I could make most people smile. It is
a different art compared to writing
or
straight presenting, if you can do one it doesn't mean you can do the other.
But if you smile at people they do tend to smile back, so if you start with a
smile then you cannot go far wrong.
They say
that 100 years ago a man knew 2 blocks North, 2 blocks South, 2 blocks East and
2 blocks West. Or back in Ireland as far as the market and back to the farm. No
doubt the same in England. World War One changed everything, their innocence
was taken away from them, no virgin on a wedding night. But rape as the guns
fired
over no man’s
land. Men came home with tales of woe, tales of Paris and drinking by the
Seine. Tales of Mud and Death, they never spoke of because it was too much of a
torment.
The small
world of the village was swept away. Buses came along and linked village to
town, the railway too. A
small world
was changed into a bigger world. Radio was invented, the wireless as it was
called. The world could reach into every nook and cranny of the isolated
village. Was it the work of the Devil, this radio. Newspapers too, not to
mention the fact that more people could read. Isolation did not exist any more.
Then came the Cinema, the Flicks as it was called because the films flickered.
Everybody's world was changed, everybody had a bigger and bigger world view. It
was like a walled garden that had its walls removed. No longer a cosy world,
but
the winds of change, the winds of communication. The walls
came tumbling down, the walls came tumbling down. You would need to be a
hermit, or a monk hidden away on top of a mountain on an island that was lost
at sea, then and only then could you have a sheltered existence. TV came along,
black and white then colour. Then cable and satellite and then HD. Not to
mention computers and Internet, perhaps living on the dark side of the moon is
the only place to be, IF you want solitude. For my street is the world, and all
its news.
I'm big, my
boss calls me "the big man". Some may say "fat", I'll stick
with big. I am 3stones heavier than I look which I suppose is good. 3 stones
is18 to 20 kilos, that in itself is the weight of a growing child, or one
suitcase ready for international travel.
My fat is not wobbly fat, so I don't look like a
jelly,
its tight
fitting fat. Makes me sound so glamorous, you can see my photo on this site so
you can be the judge. Just big, or big boned as some fat people say. Me, I'm
just big, so let's leave it at that, you don't want me to cry do you. I did
have a compliment from my Chinese masseuse, she told my wife that all my skin
was tight, so there you have it from a Phd a Chinese doctor.
Now what if
I could share with you knowledge which will make you all lose 1/2 a stone,
that's 7lbs is you are an American or 6 tubs of margarine if you are metric.
So how do
you lose weight? You just don't try, and then as if by magic you lose weight. A
Muslim friend at work SR, explained Ramadan to me. I said for Lent I'd just
give up chocolate or something. Very easy compared to Muslim fasting. That was
when I was a kid, now old age and so on meant...
So I agreed to give up Chocomilk from the company drinks
machine. The drinks were free and we did work in a very hot print room. So I
gave up my favourite drink for Lent.
I still
carried on drinking, but only the squash, not the nice and calorie laden
Chocomilk. After a few days I did not miss my favourite drink, and the weight
just fell
off. Though
another friend was quick to mention that M&S had just closed its sandwich
shop near the office, so I was having smaller and not as nice sandwiches. That
he thought may be the real reason why my trousers were looser, whatever the
reason, once my friend had come back from holiday with a new bride, he saw the
difference. Mainly with my thinner face.
So what is the moral of the story? If I can lose 1/2
a
stone then so can anybody else, I did not look at
any
magazines or starve myself as girls do. It was the
lazy
man's diet and it worked. So here I am still Big but
happier looking more and more like George Clooney.
Look at
my photo and judge for yourself, more photos can be
googled.
As we sit
in our armchairs watching the news , do we care what is going on over there ,
in some place hot , too hot to think about , or too cold to bear , ice and snow
everywhere . Are we just waiting for the sports report , are we waiting to see
was the battle hard or a walkover , did our favourite player score a home run ,
or 10 touchdowns , were the crowd , the audience behind him , did we win
100dollars from the bet we had on the side . In the interviews after the war
was won , were we just watching to see the design on the teams shirt , is that
a new logo , is that the same logo spruced up . Or is it a new logo entirely ,
does it make any difference in how the team played , or just another million
dollars in the owners pocket , paid by us the audience , the fans , just so we
can all look so identical . The reporters are screaming loudly , half excited
and half in fear , they want to watch , they want to cover their eyes , but
they are there so they must report . Are they in some arid desert , or in some
cold cold place , pain and fear and hope etched on their face , are they in
some war zone ,
,
could we tell the difference , do we care , so long as
we can switch it all off with our remote control .
********
Just a
little food for thought , you can read my Betting On Disaster
Where I was born and grew up, is only 2miles or so
from
where I live now. I was born in the shadow of a
brewery
and ended up working for a Market Research company
doing
research into alcohol sales and I was a shandy
drinker.
Do you want
a girlie I was asked when we went to the pub, sadly the barman died early, so
you can pray for him.My father, my dad was a blacksmith and my mum was a farm
girl. Both from County Kerry, the best county, just you ask any Irishman. My
dad was apprenticed to a Blacksmith in Rathmore, in 1995 we went back an
rediscovered the very place next to a new road. The blacksmiths had turned into
a hairdressers and the store had been demolished. My dad always spoke fondly of
the blacksmith. That blacksmith never had any children, but my dad was treated
as family. Go out woman to the henhouse and see has the hen laid. This would be
about 1935/6.It there were 3 eggs then they all had one. If 2 the blacksmith
did without
, and if only 1 egg was laid my dad got it. This is how "family"
should be. In 1944 my dad came to England and the steelworks in Brasshouse
Lane. For 40 years he endured the heat, 400degrees beside the furnace. You
could lose 1/2 a stone a day in sweat. My
dad often did 12hour shifts and sometimes 16. So coming from
that he always wanted his children to do better, EDUCATION was the key and it
still is. I remember asking him what subjects I should do when we did the 3rd
year split. His answer was I don't know, but do what you like but do your best.
Now perhaps that should be written on every blackboard throughout the country.
My dad had a large family and he loved and encouraged us. So imagine his pride
when in 1968/9 one son went to the best university in the land. Then a few
years later another son went to the opposition best university in the land.
Today do kids listen to ignorant teachers, back at our grammar school we were
encouraged. And mum always said you are as good as anybody. Me I'm the failure
I'm just a Wordsmith.
My site,
this site disappeared for a few days, a few thoughts passed through my mind.
Have I lost my "babies" my "work" my "stuff". For
anybody that writes, be it me who writes simply hoping for a bigger audience
once I'm discovered, or say for the Google Librarian in charge of millions of
books. Worthy books and all kinds of everything, the one word passes through
your mind "OH HOTDOGS" as the astronauts used to say. However I used
to be a computer operator back in 78, yes 1978, I was still just a teenager
then. And the "one thing" as Glen Beck is fond of saying, the
"one thing" I learnt was NEVER
NEVER NEVER
trust a computer, always but always have lots of backup. We were a very small
outfit to start with but then we taken over. And in the beginning we flew by
the seat of our pants as early pilots used to. So at work we kept 3 generations
of backup, first of Magnetic tape then many years later on super8 video then
data storage tape. AT home over 20 years ago when I first started to write
I had not
one but 2 photocopies of my book. Then when I decided that a typewriter was old
fashioned I moved to an Atari 520 which a few years later I updated to an Atari
1040, my friends were into games big time so that was
their recommendation. I only needed a word processor but I
took their advice anyway. It was very expensive 300pounds or 480dollars at
today’s exchange rate, and that was nearly 20years ago. Yes a fool and his
money are soon parted. Our lust for writing soon means money departing. Now I
had my own computer then, so did I have 3 generations of security. NO, I had
TEN. My stories, my babies were the most important thing in the world to me, so
I always too 10 copies on floppy disc and scattered them all over my house.
When I finally finished my book The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker I even
hid one in the family home. So if there was theft or fire I'd
still have
my back up. I'd leant from the antics at work, always but always have back up.
Moving onto the Internet age, I hide/store/conceal/save whichever is the
correct word, my writing is in Cyberspace so that it should survive anything as
its on servers on the 4 corners of
the globe.
Which book would you chose to save in Cyberspace. On Desert Island Discs the
Radio4 show on the BBC they ask that question in a manner of speaking. The
Bible and Shakespeare is given to you and then you can chose a book. Would I be
conceited and chose me own book. No, yes really, no, because you know your own
book so
easily as more pieces of the jigsaw appear in your
mind
that nobody would chose their own book, well perhaps
some
Hollywood types. So what would I chose. Probably a
History book, I once wanted to be a History teacher,
and
my own
History teacher did recommend Don Camillo to me, a comic priest tale from
Italy. In some ways I hope my writing is like Don Camillo, a mythical place
with comic, English meaning of comic, goings on, If finally somebody says my
stuff is comic. Then then I have finally made myself understood
That’s all
Folks as Bugs Bunny used to say or was it OH CARROTS
Well I
start my new life today. I'm redundant and looking for a new job, so I have my
plan to follow. I will walk
to the top
of Bearwood every day, it 10mins there and 10 mins back, so it might be 2k
altogether, or 1.25miles on the way I browse in the shops but spend nothing as
I have to watch the pennies until I get a new job. On the way back I do my
shopping. I look for bargains, such as gamon instead of sliced bacon, fresh
orange juice at half price, yogurt as a treat and at the lower original
price. Cereals too because they are quick first
thing in
the morning. Not forgetting green bananas that will
ripen
for when I'm ready to eat them. Cheap 1/2 price
pizza too
and 1/2 price cheese that I can slice and add to the
pizza to make them nicer. Milk is always good so
3litres
of that as well and some sweet corn for good
measure. All
in all my week's shopping. I used to work for
ACNielsen a
long time ago and they would put me in the
opportunist
shopper bracket, no brand loyalty just a vulture so
to
speak Once home some 1/2 price coffee from when I
stocked
up before
then its on to the Internet to trawl through the job websites. Staying positive
is the name of the game. Apply for nice jobs that will speak to my heart, as
well as apply for jobs that will just feed me. Now at my age,
I'm 20 in my head, but my birth certificate says otherwise, I'd like somewhere
where I can stay till I can retire, hopefully with a lottery win in 3hours
time, but failing that till regular retirement age. However with politicians
being so bad as they are, and the economy too, I imagine I'll be 92 before I
can retire, which leaves only 8 years to have fun. I always said I'd like to
live till I was 100.So where will I end up? God alone knows, and he doesn't
talk to me anymore, perhaps I should listen more and then I'll hear his voice.
Though I can say that when you do listen you can come up with inspired poetry
which some may say comes from God. You can find several such pieces scattered
all over this site, or in my 2nd book Essays and Plays.
That's all
for today, I hope it doesn't pour tomorrow because whatever the weather I must
do my walk, just to blow away the cobwebs and who knows I may come up with a
new poem I can share on this blog. I find IF I can get
the first
line then the rest just pours out, poetry is harder than anything else. Writing
a book is much easier, it’s getting published that takes decades. Cheerio from
sunny Birmingham as the clock strikes six.
WE just
finished watching Die Hard 4.0 on the tv. We all really enjoyed it. The story
revolved around people taking over all of the computer networks in the USA.
There was
loads of action but what made me think was how would you deal with hackers?
In England
we have a man with a form of autism who just after 911 he broke into USA
computers, because he was looking for news of ETs, it was his hobby. He has
been dragged through English courts and finally he will be sent to USA where he
could go to jail for a long time.
So the
question is why weren't the USA computers hack proof. Was it because they
weren't tested? Was it arrogance? Me, if I were the USA authorities, I'd give
the guy a job and let him explain just how he did it. Or is it empty pride? It
would be far cheaper than sticking him in jail. I'm sure if those of you who
are in the USA are reading this and you stop to think you agree with me. War
Games is a film from 10 to 20 years ago when teenage hackers get into NORAD. A
similar them.
When I
eventually get around to writing Tears For A Butcher my follow up comedy novel,
then in that book there will be a handicapped person who is a whiz on IT.
Their body may be mal formed but their brain is not. In my
story it’s to show that we shouldn't put people in a dustbin because we are
ignorant about them. And arrogant towards them. In my story those IT whizes do
get offered a great job working for the USA, why because they did what was in
Die Hard 4.0, by the way I thought up my plot line before I saw the film. Also
in the follow up book
two twin
sisters find their first boyfriends, and who do these Venuses pick. Do they
chose football heroes with bulging muscles, but maybe no brains. NO these two
Venuses chose a guy with a limp and the other pick has a severe stutter.
Why do I
chose to make my characters in my book behave in such a way? I want people who
see the true worth of people. Its not the smile, all flashing perfect teeth. A
better person may have bad teeth and bad breath. A real hero is not all
"Hollywood", it’s the guy in the garage
who fixes
your car. It’s the fat middle age lady who is the crossings lady when you take
your kids to and from school. It’s you when you deliberately start a
conversation with the lonely old lady on the bus. Your very words are warmth to
her soul. She'll smile and get off the bus and wave to you. She'll talk about
you to her
These are
ordinary people who make up our world. Some will have talents which God has
sprinkled randomly, just to remind us that all are loved by him. Even me, even
you.
We just
watched Shakespeare in Love the 1998 film. It was very good and I enjoyed the
music too. The passion for words and the wheeler dealing was funny too. I think
Dame Judy Dench got an Oscar for it too, forgive me if I'm wrong. The Passions
and Pain was all revealed too, I'd forgotten how good the film was. A long time
ago I did a course on Shakespeare, you have to try and understand the style of
the language too, the metaphors and old English language. All in all a very
good film, with even a young Ben Afleck in it. So grab and pizza and get a copy
from your local video store.
What
Shakespeare also reminded me was how we all need to communicate to each other.
If Joe knows cars then we speak in car metaphors. It not patronising its
socialising,
when I was working at the hotel 5 years ago if we had Scots visitors then the
word "wee" would slip into my language it was the natural thing to
do. We even had Top Cops conferences so I'd share a joke with a Chief Constable
or two as I walked around the hotel on a security patrol. The joke was we had a
sniper on the roof to keep petty car thieves away. We did have the most secure
car park on the NEC site. The NEC is the biggest
If talking to chefs you always listen with respect
not
just
because they were masters in their field but because chefs have knives, lots of
knives so it’s always best to
have
respect. The housekeeping crew knew everything about cleaning rooms and
corridors, so I'd share a word while I did my 30 mins patrols that took me
everywhere. Some
days I might even be helping them when the hotel was
ultra busy. So I'd stay out of Vicky's way by
cleaning
the bathrooms while she cleaned the bedrooms. It’s
very
hard work, but there is a sense fulfilment when a
corridor has been done. 15 rooms a day I think it
was,
though it could have been 20. I'd take off my front
of
house jacket and roll up my sleeve and put the
rubber
gloves on while I was on bathroom duty. My dec phone
might ring then I'd be summons downstairs to help
out at
front of house. Its all like a mad and busy ballet,
though I've never worn a tutu, though I have been
positively vetted by a Chinese ballet dancer when I
first
met my wife, but that's another story.
Life is all
about stories, if my story is appealing to another person then we may become
friends, to others it
may be boring and go on forever, so then I'm a bore. Its how
our lives connect and how social jigsaws fit together that makes us all work as
friends and as work mates. Sadly there are people who put themselves above us,
it can be a boss or a priest in church or the snob selling newspapers in the
street. Life is about blowing bubbles in the air that blow this way and that
way, they may stick together or blow randomly all over the shop. But bubbles
are a glorious thing they make us like children, happy and innocent and willing
to share our sweets. I'm forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air is
the song. But the most important thing is the range of colours, the joy, the
happiness that bubbles bring, just like Shakespeare's sonnets.
To begin
with let me explain. I was trawling through the jobs sites when I came across
an ad looking for all kinds of everything for a Fashion Mag, nonpaid I might
add. So it set me thinking. I do have a Shanghai wife who sets heads turning,
and I have to comment on all the fashion she wears. So after more than 10 years
I have learnt a little about Fashion.
I would no
doubt be called Grandpa whenever I attended a Fashion Event, I have the same
white hair that the famous fashion designer has, I don't wear gloves with the
fingers cut off though. Though I do have thinsulate gloves in black and in red.
Just as he has two colours.
My
waistline is bigger, I'm as big as 2 models, though you would never see me in
purple lipstick and covered in rouge. Fishnet tights though, that's another
matter, Men in tights and Pantomime is an English tradition. Google Pantomime
if you have not heard of Panto. Men dress up as women and women dress up as
men, perhaps as Robin Hood. It’s fun for all the family. But I was talking
about fish
net tights
before I was side tracked. Fashion makes a very big statement. Some of the high
end fashion is not really fashion. It really is a work of Art. I saw a
documentary once on TV and after watching the man with the
funny gloves and the white hair go about his work I realised it really was Art
and not just Fashion. Now what would I do at a fashion show? I'd drink the free
champagne for starters, pity they don't serve hot dogs too, then I'd be in
heaven. Some of the designers destroy what they are trying to achieve by too
much hideous make up. The fashion really would be better served by well dressed
dummies. Smearing a beautiful models with soot just destroys the vision. The
dead eyes that you see when models walk the cat walk is terrible. Yes Fashion
is
King, but
if the models looked happy and you could almost believe that they all fought to
get into the dress they were wearing. Then you'd say, she looks so happy
wearing that you can see the joy in her eyes. Then Fashion would be better
served.
There are
other designs which are truly great but they are ruined because the colour
palette is so bad. It’s like when you see 2009 Punk Rockers, I remember the
original ones 30 years ago so today's versions are just so passe. You can go
into a shop and as you look around you see 40 shades of grey or 20 shades of
black. It’s not even worth trying the clothes on. Ditto when you can see the
clothes
are for 40 or 50 somethings. Colour is Great, so USE IT, life
is in Colour so lets see it in the designs.
Women are beautiful and the more intelligent 1/2 of
our
species, their beauty should be celebrated and
enhanced
by fashion. Colour and Cut matched to sympatric
makeup
will make women glow, and allow women to wrap men
around
their little finger even more. Good fashion does
this and
I know that when I look at my wife.
BBC asks
top writer to take course on drama. I just read that in today's Telegraph. I'm
trying to get my foot in the door in the writing game. I once posted my
Internet Story comic essay on a BBC site, where it was removed, why, because
"And
help find a publisher for my book , and then you've guessed it , just send me
10 dollars !" Is the tag line
for the
joke at the end of the essay. But to the BBC I was soliciting money, so they
removed it. If I had a Bafta and had the BBC telling me how to write , I'd slam
it down on the desk of the idiot who asked me to do a test and ask them to
write a thesis on "How to win a Bafta". Total BBC Idiots,
Sorry Moses
you cann't part the Red Sea without Health and Safety assessment 1st. And as
for that stick in your hand we will notify the Police, weapons are not allowed.
As for you Gandalf, drop it now or we'll try this new mace on you, we've just
imported it from USA.
Sorry no
Loaves and Fishes or Water into wine either, you don't have A3 consent.
Sorry
Gordon and David, those speeches have to pass the censor, and don't forget the
3pm watershed, we don't want
kids home from school getting all confused, which one is the
liar, is it always the one in Government or is it just the Opposition.
So the BBC
has to bore everybody with fair and balance just like Fox news. Sadly I am not
surprised, perhaps the stuff I write is never PC, so it will never be published
or produced. www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
is
where to find it, so judge for yourselves. My latest idea is to turn my non PC
play Shoplife into a Health and Safety piece by using reverse logic
What's
under your bed? We used to have an airline pilot stay at the hotel who would
open his room door and leave his flight bag down propping the door open while
he then rolled an orange under the bed. He said he travelled all over the world
and this was his safety routine. If you go to a bad hotel you may find an
uneaten Kentucky Fried Chicken still in its box, under your bed. Normally it’s
an odd shoe or sock, if the housekeeping crew are trained well you will never
ever find any of these things. Having cleaned a few rooms myself when I was at
a 4star deluxe hotel for 3 years, I can say it is hard work and you have to be
fast and furious. But so long as the hotel gets 6 quid or 10 dollars for the
room then they are in profit. But all of this is an aside, what's under your
bed? We decorated a few years ago and I had hundreds and hundreds of photos in
photo albums. We took down a couple of shelves while we decorated, but then we
had a problem, one of them broke. The one which had all my photo albums on. I
hadn't really looked at all these photos in years,
so the bin
beckoned. However I decided I'd keep them. So where to put them. Under the bed
was the solution, we had an old suitcase so I put all my photos away. It must
have
weighted 25 kilos, or 55 pounds or 4stones in English
terminology, which is as much as my big daughter weights, talking of weight my
wife only weights 6 stones, light enough to be a jockey. Now there's an idea,
my uncle Patrick used to keep a donkey just to cut the grass around the house
in County Kerry. My wife could have become a jockey, if only my uncle and the
donkey were still around. Life is all about timing after all.
So grunting
and groaning I carried the old suitcase upstairs and slid it under my bed.
There it remained for years. Two children later and today our smallest one
wanted to look at all the photo albums, the ones we keep in the pantry. Though technology
has moved on now and we have maybe 1000 photos on the computer and in
cyberspace on our family site. But our smallest likes to see herself when she
was even smaller. So I decided to drag out the suitcase and show both our girls
photos of me from 25years ago and so. We had snaps from when my sister did her
year abroad, from when my brother lived in Paris.
There were
lots of photos, 10 small albums of County Kerry, donkey included. All my
cousins, my dad's brother had 10 children after all, my mum had 5 surviving
brothers and sisters. There were photos of the beach at
Cromane , my cousin's son measured the distance from the
corner of the house to the sea, just over 7 metres he said, or about 23feet in
old money. I remembered the Love my aunty showed to all of us, she was always
the driver, 1000miles in 2 weeks seeing all the clan, she is truly blessed.
From the base in Killarney to all points North/South/East/West you could put on
a stone, or 14pounds in 2 weeks, 3 relatives a day, 3 meals a day.
All my
cousins were always so generous and welcoming, there was always so much gossip
and stories to be heard. All this lived in suspended animation in a suitcase
under my bed. They all awoke like a Princess in a Fairy tale story when I
dragged out the old suitcase today. My girls said I looked so cool with my
sunglasses and my moustache. I told them I was younger than mummy is when the
photo was taken. Why did everybody have a moustache in them days?
I also
found my copy of The Outline Of History By H.G.Wells , signed by Mr Lester the
head teacher from my Primary school. It was a leaving present, believe it or
not I was Head Boy at Primary school, it was a bit like being a jailer really,
as I had the keys to the building and I locked up at dinner time. I also found
a
certificate from 1969 because I wrote a story for a
competition, Junior Free Handwriting Story something. This impressed my big
daughter.
I found my
mother’s prayer book with lots of religious pictures inserted into the pages.
Mrs Murphy in my novel, The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker is based on my
mum, but not just her but my Aunty in Killarney and the 2 other sisters. So my
fictional Mrs Murphy is to the power of 4. While I'm thinking of it, I
deliberately did not
write about
my dad in my book, however after I finished it I realised that Big Sid the
butcher he was my dad.
Not because
of any similarities whatsoever, but, the Love Sid has is the same Love that my
dad had for all of us. Love is how you judge people, anything else is s*&%.
I also
found a nice little book about Saint Martin de Porres, I'll try and get my
daughter to read it, it must be 30 years old. All in all a lot of memories came
flooding out just because I looked under my bed. The suitcase I threw away, the
history book is back on the remaining bookshelf just beside me. I found a large
strong plastic sack and I put my photos back in the bag. The only thing I had
to decide was where to put it. You
know what I thing I'll put it back under my bed.
Memories to sleep on
I was in
Aldi and I spotted Winnie the Pooh wrapping paper, my smallest girl just loves
all things Winnie the Pooh, so I got the paper. I wasn't sure whether to wrap
her Birthday present in it or just let her have the paper. In the end I gave
her the paper to play with. She
was
delighted, immediately she wanted to use the wrapping paper to wallpaper the
walls with. As I've said before
she once
said she liked Winnie the Pooh because his belly reminded her of my belly. Such
is a child's love, unflattering but love.
It did get
me thinking though, why do we need wrapping paper? Packaging is part and parcel
of ordinary life. Easter eggs are the thing with the most packaging, so much
packaging and then so little chocolate. My mother gave up on Easter Eggs
because of the cost, there were so many of us Caseys after all. So we had bars
of Cadburys chocolate instead, the Cadburys factory is just a couple of miles
from where I'm sitting. Easter came and we devoured the Cadburys bars, cheaper
than the Easter Eggs but so very tasty.
People have
wrapping paper or layers all around them, we can all remember what Donkey said
to Shrek, so many
the wrapping paper called a "suit", so
that I can get a
new job. So people can see me at my best, hide my
tummy
and hope they forgive my premature white head of
hair, as
for my bushy eyebrows God alone knows what they may
think. You can judge for yourselves by clicking on
the
photos on this site. How much do you reveal, how
much do
you hide as you have an unnatural experience that is
called an interview. Perhaps interviews should take
place
in a coffee shop, as you may know LLoyds of London
started in a London coffee shop 100s of years ago.
Even
better interviews could be held in a bar. You have
two
pints to
prove your worth, so don't spill the peanuts over the interviewer's haut
couture dress. Perhaps then at the 2nd interview you have to sing karaoke with
the 2 interviewers, and IF you can sing My Way word perfect then you get the
job. It sure would be more fun.
More
wrapping paper is used when we are embarrassed or too shy to explain things to
our doctor, we waste 5 mins talking about the weather and the Fall leaves
before we finally blurt out that it’s a boil on the bum ort something below the
waistline. And why is it that on these occasions the doctor on call is one of
the opposite
Wrapping
paper is used an awful lot in Faith, we lie to ourselves and our God/Gods by
thinking we don't have to do this or we don't have to do that. Faith can become
a Buffet, we lie to ourselves and God, this bit does not matter, so we'll show
God only so much of ourselves. A
bit like
cheating in an exam. I'm sure God's smiling as he watches us, perhaps the
Saints place bets on who will finally come clean, clean being the operative
word. The Saints queue up ready to intervene, which 999 or 911 call will come
though so that a Saint can be dispatched. I
know in1996
when my mum had died suddenly and then 8 bare weeks later my dad was given 1
week to live, we actually picked the hymns for his funeral he was so bad. Then
all
the layers,
all the wrapping paper was off, Padre Pio came to the rescue. So that I met my
wife in the old peoples' home, 3 years after my dad came back from the dead.
Dad lived long enough to hold his granddaughter in his arms, 5.5 years after
that massive heart attack.
The
ultimate wrapping paper is love, It’s hard to say you love somebody when your
heart has been broken so many times before. It’s hard to take a chance when
somebody might laugh in your face. Slowly you reveal one thing,
then another, then another, yes I can see the idea of a Monty
Python joke as I write this. I do write comedy after all. But when 2 strangers
become friends, when 2 become one, then all the wrapping paper is off. She may
not mind your hairy back or fat stomach, he may not mind her big feet or
whatever she feared. It can turn out that what one thinks is ugly your Love may
find attractive. Love is Blind after all, Love conquers All, Love is all
you need.
Together naked, the wrapping paper is discarded.
The White
Door, or the dirty white door to be exact. I had a dream last night and I saw a
door, a dirty white door. There were two nails driven into it in the top left
hand corner of it. That's all I remembered, we do have 2 white doors in our
house but neither are like that.
So what was
I dreaming about? Years ago I had a dream dictionary, I would have eagerly read
that to find out. So instead I'll have to use the Internet, google will have an
answer no doubt.
I've said
for years that I'd only get a real publisher IF somebody opened the door for
me. A negative friend always says you have to make your own opportunities. I
take the view that it’s not ability but knowing somebody, the old saying, it’s
not what you know but who you know.
I knocked on loads of doors via emails, but still
after
20 years no
publisher for my novel. A friend said it’s not just a door but maybe a window
I'd may have to sneak my talent through a window before I finally got my
chance, before my boat comes in.
My smallest
daughter said she had a dream last night too, she dreamt we moved house to the
big white house we walk past daily on the school run, and that we had a cat and
a dog. The dog will be called Subway. She was all excited as
she told me. Children just love animals, but I've said
no animals
till we get a bigger house. Somebody somewhere has to find me and like me, and
then publish me before our dreams can come true. Or my 32 year old lottery
ticket could finally come up trumps, thought I doubt it.
You never
know what’s around a corner my old boss once told me a long time ago, she was
right, I met the wife in a most unbelievable way. It’s all in Padre Pio and Me
and my Literary Criticism essays. Doors can be opened and closed, closed in
your face. For 3 years I stood by a door when I worked at a 4star deluxe hotel,
the whole world passed through as I was a 30 second living commercial for the
hotel. Best 3 years of my life in a way.
Doors in
the mind are the best doors to open, because they free you to experience more,
I'm not talking about taking pills or whatever, just in case any Old Hippies
are out there and reading this. Just open your heart and you will open a door
to experience more, to remove barriers that leave you in a box, full of your
own prejudices. Think of it as food, we always have this and
we always have that. Because that’s the way we have
always
done things. Then we meet somebody different and our food
world changes, our doors are open. Imagine me meeting a Shanghai girl 10 years
ago , I told her fish and chips
was haute
cuisine. Now you need a degree in oriental languages to know what's what in our
fridge. The kids love going to Subway as it’s a change from daily Chinese food.
That’s why if ever we move house the dog will be called Subway.
I'll leave
it at that now, though I can say that Fear opened one door for me. I was so
afraid of my Primary school teacher when I was 8 that I started to read books,
and it changed my life. Getting an old Bush radio from one of our lodgers also
opened another door for me, expanding your mind is a great adventure. If you
are lucky it leads to a corridor full of doors and opportunities. I suppose
writing these blogs as well as the essays and plays and the comic novel is a
door too, you the reader are seeing into my mind, I just hope you like the
view.
Where do
the tears go when they are shed © By
Michael Casey
Where do the
tears go when they are shed While I lie here crying on my bed
Do the
tears drip drip away and seep though The floorboards and head for the sea.
Do my tears
join an ocean that rises and falls Do the tears yell and scream but only sea
farers
Hear them, do whales moan as they crash through them
Only whales know of my distress as my tears groan
In deep deep oceans in the unknown dark deep seas.
Do my tears head north to the North Pole and Santa
Does Santa
Ho Ho Ho so much because he is trying to drown out
The
cries and sobs and tears held back for so many years. Do tears form ice shelves
and become icebergs, silent and majestic
Like giant
cathedrals of ice. Is this the way to silent the voice of tears.
Frozen in
Time for 100s of years, the fears of today and yesterday are merged
Will
everything be forgot, deep freezed, quick frozen like garden peas.
Do my tears
evaporate and head for the sky, joining the clouds as they pass by.
Are my
tears blown this way and that, are they taken far away over the ocean.
As planes
pass through the clouds that are my tears, can the passengers hear
Can the
passengers hear my tears, all my hopes and fears, or are my tears
Drowned out
by the inflight movie, 007 killing my prayers to heaven.
Do my tears
wash away my pain, my guilt, are they like mothers’ milk?
For tears
touch us all, they are like a morning mist that shrouds us.
For tears
are the dark dark night of the soul, a cold coat that covers us.
In the
morning we remember we fell asleep crying, but what of now?
Now we’ve
looked at our dead mum’s photo and think of what she would have said.
But never
tears, she shed no tears for us, she shed no tears for us.
Tears will
come, tears will come again, but they are just water, we are stronger
Than mere water, we have a boat and that boat is
Love.
****
I had this poem in my head so tonight I tried to a
nail it down
88.A_Famous_Life_an_Expired_Life_Words_from_Beyond_The_Grave
I did my best, I tried to live a holy life, thinking of
the next
life and not tied to this. But now I'm gone you turn me into an icon, I get
15minutes of fame, after I'm dead, but those 15minutes last forever. I wanted a
humble grave, a quiet send off, only a brass band turned up.
People
spoke kind words about me, some even meaning them, but for what? For vanity,
for care, for compassion to
those I
left behind, or to make themselves important by association. I'm just a signpost
pointing the way, go higher, don't stop at me, the signpost, go higher. Go to
heaven itself, not this ornate graveyard, with people selling tee shirts with
my name on. Go higher.
I'm just a
mother so remember me well, don't fight with one another, love one another and
help each other, if you want to remember me then remember those words of mine.
And I'm not angry with you any more, for that joke about Thomas being the ideal
name for an atheist. Breath the fresh air, sit on the grass in our small garden
and remember how as kids we all cut that grass by using small pairs of scissors
because we couldn't afford a lawn mower. Life goes on without me, I never saw
those pretty girls of yours, but God lets us see things sometimes, and yes
you are right I would have spoilt them if only I had lived to
see them. But my passing led to dad going into the old folks home, and it was
there where you met you wife, at least he held the 1st girl in his eyes before
he was called into Paradise. And do you know they have a beautiful garden
there, and for fun we are allowed to cut the grass with scissors, one blade at
a time. So enjoy your life and enjoy your family. Those prayers you said for
years brought tears to Heaven, and then by chance at a letter box she met a man
who ran the home, and that’s why she was there waiting for you, waiting for you
all the time, love is no crime. Hope and Tears and love, and I did give cupid a
push from above, and I'm so glad you didn't call anybody Thomas.
I've just watched a biography about Pink Floyd's
Dark
Side of The Moon. It was very good, music really is
the
soundtrack to our lives. Compared to Music, Writing
is
rubbish, Photography is better than Writing too. The
old
saying a picture is worth 1000 words rings true. I
used
to be surgically attached to a camera as my old boss
used
to say. Any company event and I was there with my
camera.
That’s no
longer true, but I use it to illustrate the fact that I like photos, taking
them and composing them. Straight boring photos were people line up, like in
1950s school photos are terrible. Photos should have energy, I did enter a
competition to win a nice new Nicon. but I don't think I've won. They wanted a
cycle shot, like in Tour de France. I sent in a photo of my daughter, then aged
3, riding a plastic tricycle in our back yard, she
was wearing
her pink pyjamas and some pearls she'd stolen from my wife. If Nicon have a
sense of humour then perhaps I'll win after all. Anyways I hope that proves
photos are more powerful than words. Going back to music though, my brother
used to have a reel to reel tape recorder and a speaker through which he played
music at high volume, to drown out the sound of the rest of us
while he was studying. Using this method he got into the best
university. So it was then 40years agro that my Love of Music began, at the
time it was Cream music, which featured a young Eric Clapton. I still have that
speaker in my house. And as for Eric Clapton, I almost carried his bags. Going
back to my point though, Music touches us in seconds, a Clapton riff, the first
few notes of a piece played by a pianist on a piano, a phrase by Michael Bulee.
Musicians have power over us. So much power. Perhaps the caveman who drummed on
a skull with a bone from other caveman he'd just eaten; perhaps he, perhaps he
excited the cavewoman enough so he could mate with her, and that led to us, and
me writing here in Birmingham England and with a press of the button sharing my
thoughts with the entire world. So a drumbeat on a skull was the beginning of
music, and sex and the continuation of our species. As for writing, thousands
of years had to pass before it began and could be used to pass on stories.
Storytelling started straight away, as
the
cavewoman told he sister to get some of the action from the drummer. But the
writer as such did not start until thousands of years later. Perhaps that is
why Music is deeper within us, and why we hum and whistle or tap
tap tap on the steering wheel while we are stuck in traffic.
If there are 3 words that can be written to compare with the speed of Music's
power, perhaps its " I Love You" , "I want you", "Come
here...." Words like
that, spoken, do have power, but words have to be
backed
up with better words, stronger words, the words on
the
page have to ignite to get the reader to read more,
to
touch the reader. A poem or two of mine can touch
people
when my poetry is on form, but, but it takes
30seconds
for my words to go from the page through somebody's
eyes
and then finally touch their heart. And that's why
I'll
always be jealous of drummers, even if the drums are
made of leftover skulls from dinner.
90.
Tempus Fugit - I am your Future, you are my Past Its
my smallest daughter's Birthday soon, this got me thinking. My sister sent some
presents over in advance and my daughter was delighted with her treasure, even
if it wasn't Winnie The Pooh but some other bear. Eyes lighting up as she went
through her bag of treasure, counting out the treasure just like the King in
his counting house. Her big sister observing and trying not
to get
jealous, however she had some treasure of her own, my sister had sent some
Maths quiz books over to encourage her with her sums.
This
morning they were having a disco in their bedroom, with a DAB radio blasting
out Heart at high volume. I had an blue radio with holes in it like a sieve
when I was their age, it had MW & LW on it. FM was not the standard yet in
those days. IT was while listening to that radio
that we
heard RFK had been shot, I remember running down stairs to tell me mum, she was
in the kitchen, she was always in the kitchen, she fell to her knees and got
her rosary beads from her apron pocket.
A few years
later Frank who was one of our lodgers went back to Ireland to look after his
sick mum, her left all
of his stuff behind, a full and heavy suitcase plus
a
Bush Radio. He eventually came back and said we, that’s me
and my brother could have the radio. The Bush radio is a classic design. It has
a large strip carry handle, like a
giant strip
of marzipan, it also has a giant saucer dial with grooves in it, and as for the
controls they were like dominoes, plus a grooved wheel to turn for volume. That
radio changed my life. Why? Well me and my brother used to listen to the World
Tonight with Douglas Stuart reporting, which was a 30min news programme from
the BBC Radio4 and best of all it was followed by The Book at Bedtime. Because
I started to listen to Radio 4 from the
age of 10
or so I became addicted to Current Affairs as posh people call it, News to you
and me. The stories and plays were great too. Though after 20years of radio
plays, The Radio 4 radio play style can have its shine taken off. So that was
my thing for 20years or so, I suppose that was what led me to Writing. It also
made me realise Radio is better than TV, as far as news goes.
Radio has
more power and the picture don't get in the way of the story. IF you try an
experiment and listen to a news story then later watch the news and hear the
same story, you will realise that the Radio version is better. Those of you in
USA may not be able to do this experiment
directly, so try closing your eyes and listening to the news,
then watch the same piece later. Ears are better than Eyes.
Nowadays
DAB radio is the thing, though they use lots of electricity, but the sound
quality is so good. So my daughter has a DAB radio and that's her standard,
small radio but high quality. The Bush radio we had was bigger than a cereal
box and heavy too, but it did change my life. It was company for me when my
brother left home to do his gap year, before gap years were invented, as I
struggled with my Latin, my Bush radio was the sound in the background. Though
I had music on when I did homework, now as I write this I have music on too but
this time its via the computer. Where have all the years gone, I look at my
eldest daughter and she looks so much like me when I was small over 40years
ago. WE have a joke as we look into each other’s eyes. "I am your future,
you are my past."
I stumbled
over this from a few years ago, perhaps you'll like it. The attachments can be
downloaded in seconds and then you can sample my 2 books and a couple of plays.
They all go well with a coffee and a donut What If (c)
By
Michael Casey
What if
Today wasn't the 1st day of a New Year but the last Day of Your Life.
Who would
you hug, who would you kiss, who would you miss.
Who would
miss you, do you have a clue, and do you know why?
Would your
years of striving to be a good writer/teacher/cop or whatever still mean so
much to you .
Would you
miss making love in a tent high up in the mountains.
Would you
miss a real good coffee and donut on 7th and 4th.
Would you
miss the sales where you always bought nothing but shoes, shoes for work. But
the fun you had with the
Would you
miss Midnight Mass and Silent Night getting home exhausted and late and crying
for your late mother. Would you be too afraid that you'd not meet her again in
the afterlife, or would that be the only hope you'd cling too as you watched
the hands on clock sweep around faster and faster.
Would you
rail at the world and want to get your gun and shoot those bastards who'd
ruined your life in the past , even if all they ever did was steal your parking
place,
or would
you be all sweetness and light, dying peacefully without a fight.
What would
be your parting words, would anybody remember you, small kindnesses remembered
and rewarded. Remember thou art dust and to dust thy will return is the Ash
Wednesday phrase
Is that how you want to be remembered?
Or he made
me laugh, he made me cry but I was always was happy when he was around , I'll
miss him yes , but I've
not lost
him because because a laugh lasts forever. That is my hope, for the start of
this New Year and new day, and every day because we all should live like today
is our last because one fact is certain, one day it will
Happy New Year from this Comedy Writer Michael Casey
This is my
new children’s book, this is the first page or so, my big daughter is going to
do the drawings for it. Perhaps I'll end up as the new Roald Dahl Pick Your
Poem + (c)
by Michael Casey + Annie
ONE
Dad loves watches, he loves if they sparkle
BUT THE SAD THING IS THEY ALWAYS BREAK.
He told me
that he got one for passing the 11 plus I’m not sure what that is, I think its
when you are over 11
So when dad
was 11 and 1 day he got a watch. He said it was
from one of
the lodgers, Big Jim. Big Jim was like an uncle
to my dad,
he gave him things and when Big Jim died dad got lots of his things. But I was
talking to you about watches.
Dad has a
very sweaty wrist, so when dad works his wrist gets
sweatier
and sweatier. So that the watch steams up, just like
mum has to
ask dad to open the kitchen window to let the steam
go out. She
is very small you see, because my mum is from Shanghai
which is in
China, didn’t I tell you that already. Well you know now.
Unlike a
kitchen a watch does not have a window to open to let the
steam out,
the teacher in school told us that blind people do have
watches
with windows, but that’s not to let the steam out, its so the
blind
people can touch the time. So really dad should have a watch
like that, then everything would be ok.
The
Photo is Mum and Dad a long time ago in the kitchen Dad has had lots of
watches, not just steamed up watches but
he breaks
them too. Dad says its because he’s always been carrying
Things,like heavy paper in computer rooms. He even
told
Computers
used to be as big as washing machines, I think he was
telling me
lies, computers are as big as books everybody knows that,
so I told
him “liar, liar burn in fire” That’s what Irish Grandma
used to
say. He said one nightshift the glass came out of his watch,
so dad
glued it back on with superglue, only dad glued the hands of
the watch
together. Sometimes I think dad is stupid, but then he tells
me stories
so he cann’t really be that stupid. Mum says he’s her stupid
and clever
husband. Chinese Grandpa sent him a watch and dad hasn’t broke
that one
yet, he’s had it 6years perhaps all he needed since the 11 plus
was a Chinese watch then he wouldn’t have broken 20
or
more watches.
TWO
Tick toc tick toc
The hands are getting dizzy
The hands
are going around and around Tick Tock Tick Tock
The glass is steaming up,
its hot inside this watch.
Tick tock Tic Tock
The hands are slowing down
The hands are slowing down
Its steamier than a bathroom
Inside this watch
Tick Tock Tick Tock
The glass is all steamed up now
Tick Tock STOP
The watch is as quiet as a mouse
The watch has stopped forever
Tick Tock stop
If you like
what I've done so far then send me an email thanks. Michael
93.
The Next Big Thing or how my big daughter told me to
write a childreen’s book
The
kids finally go to bed and we can hear them rushing around and laughing.We
shout up the stairs telling them
not to make such noise and be quiet or they will wake the
baby next door. But it does make us smile, me especially. Then my big daughter
sneaks downstairs to have a chat while the other half of the family sleeps. Its
nice, I
used to
have a "social" with my mum when I was young, she's sit on the top
step of the stairs while I told her
all my
hopes and dreams, then she'd give me a goodnight kiss and I went to sleep
happy. Now over 40 years on I am doing the same thing for my daughter, and not
doubt she will do the same with her children. Tonight I was explaining sibling
rivalry and how it was really a waste of time, I could never match my brothers
and their very high educational standards, I was me and they were them. Could
they write a poem such as this:-Let There Be Light ©
By Michael Casey
Let my tears be my words
Let the candle light be my eyes
Let the flowers in bloom be my lips
Let their scent be my blood
Let the wind be my breath
Let clouds be my mood
Let children’s laughter be my hope
Let a stranger’s prayers be my delight
Let the bees be my wisdom
Let the trees be my strength
Let my patience reach to the stars
Let me be
always remembered in your prayers Well I don't think so, but they can drive, I
have a driver in the form of my wife. So I tried to explain this
to my big
daughter, how we were all different. Then she got me to put her to bed, and
tuck her in, then she said I should write poetry for kids. So there you have
it, I'll be trying to do that. It doesn't take as long as writing
a play ora
novel, she said I should put Tears For A Butcher on hold. The 1st chapter is
written, and I've got ideas for 50% of the rest of the book, but now I think
I'll follow her request. Then she can do the drawing for whatever I come up
with. We did think of writing "My Silly Family" a while back, but now
while I try to find a job I have a bit of time to try writing poetry and
stories for children. So forgive me if I park my new babies on this site. Does
anybody remember Edward Lear and his Nonsense Verse from 100 years and more
ago, we can all check google for him after I have finished
Goodnight and
God Bless as my mother used to say in the 60s.
I watched
the film Traffic today, I recorded it the other night and left it on our
machine, so today I watched it. Everything was understated, it was directed by
Steve Soderbergh, ,I hope I got that right the credits were
rolling
fast. I was impressed by the good Mexican cop who risked his life so much, he
was a very good actor.
Michael
Douglas also gave a very good performance. His daughter slipped into drugs from
being a very rich kid who was bored, in the end she was a hooker to pay for her
habit. Very seedy. The style of the film also made in more interesting. How
many awards it won I don't know. I could Google and find out but I'm sure the
film buffs reading this will tell me. In the end Michael Douglas realised that
his grand job was worth nothing compared to the love of his daughter and his
wife for that matter. Family is everything.
Bubble bath
is so nice, perhaps some may call me a girl for saying this but it is true. A
good old soak in the bath is great, especially with the radio for company.
Being like a Hippo for half an hour or until the water is no longer hot IS
great. You do come out all wrinkly a lot like a prune but it is great. I know
in USA its showers
then a shower or a bath when she comes back from the
sauna at the bottom of our street. My old uncle Dan
in
Boston loved the public sauna too back in 1980 I was
taken there when I was on holiday. But back to
bubble
bath, it is a kind of church. Why do I say church,
before
you have cartoons in your mind let me explain. You
are at
your most relaxed when you are lying there in a warm
environment with nice aromas around you. Its a kind
of
womb, and if you put your ears under the water then
things sound how the outside world sounds to an
unborn
baby. In the bath or should I say tub, in the bath
you
can relax and all the day's problems can dissolve.
You
are probably closer to your god too, no outside
events
crowding your time and mind, I'd bet too that people
pray
more while they are all alone in the bathroom. You
are
all alone and there are no barriers, you are
literally
naked before God. No expensive suits and designer
jewellery, you cannot be pompous and powerful when
you are
naked and looking like a prune and covered in
bubbles.
Inventors probably get their best ideas when they
are in
a bath.
Don't let us forget Archimedes in his bath either.
But why am I linking Traffic and Bubble Bath? Drugs kill and
corrupt. Bubble bath turns us back into kids and cleans us. Our minds, our
imagination are our greatest gift. We may be thrown into jail but we still have
our minds. We may be doing a job we hate, but our minds are free. Drugs are
just a passing high. But if you have
your mind,
your imagination then you have something to play with which is more powerful
than any drug. An imagination is even more powerful than Nuclear Weapons. And
man's imagination can bring an end to nuclear weapons.
Perhaps its in our baths covered in bubbles and hot
water that
we know just how great Peace is and how Peace and NOT drugs should be shared
around. So starting one person at a time we can influence Life on Earth.
p.s. while
I was cleaning the car park of CPNEC that's when the idea for Tears For A
Butcher came to me. Imagination is our greatest gift.
We have a
lot of snow in England at the moment, some even say its the worst Winter in 30
years. The Infant school opened only to shut down on the first day at Midday.
The Junior school over the road stayed open, they did let you take the kids
home if you had a sibling at the Infant school. Both schools are at the top of
the hill,
literally
on the brow of the hill, with the soup bowl woods just behind the Junior
school. I decided it was safer to walk than drive the car, so JJ stayed while I
walked the kids up the hill. I kept on saying "remember this", as we
listened to the sound of the snow crushing under our feet. I got them to observe
the snow as we walked to school, the pretty natural "pictures" they
could see and how they could draw them in the future. I encouraged them to
observe the shapes, I want them to have memories for the future. When they have
children and grandchildren they can tell them about the big winter of
2009/2010, just how pretty it all looked. They may even remember me. After
school we went through the woods ,the snow looked great behind the school as I
showed the girls. There must have been 150 people all enjoying the snow and
maybe 15 people with sledges, any of you film
fans out there will remember "Rosebud" and citizen
Kane, so I needn't say any more. For me though it was an opportunity to plant
seeds in my kids imagination, joy and love and snow. Today and the weekend we
missed another load of snow but there may be more tomorrow. In fact it was
noticeably milder and the snow in the back garden wasn't rock solid, it had
melted enough to make a snowman. So I started a snowman for my girls and when
they get back from school together we can finish it off. These simple pleasures
are what makes family, so I hope wherever you are reading this you do the same
for your own family.
I don't
know about you but junk mail is a total bore. I think I'm world famous now,
why? I get 20 a day, sometimes more. Sometimes for fun I reply and give them
rubbish information. You always get the story that they are dying of cancer and
they want to leave you all their money. Or the subject line is "from the
desk of barrister James Pooh" and other such gems. I saw on tv news how in
one place in Africa there were a line of computers and a teacher at the front
who had written the fake story on the blackboard and they were all typing it
out. Junk emails also come from China too and all corners of the globe. HOTMAIL
ALERT please send us all your info or lose your hotmail. Phishing scams galore,
and I click them out of existence. If I had Captain Kirk's technology then I'd
vaporise them. If only Bill Gates would let me hit
return
and them send a magnetic pulse in an email so I could wipe their computers, and
far far worse. I'm sure everybody who reads this is agreeing with me. Oh don't
forget the 1,000,000,000 I've just won according to the junk email, just send
my details and then they'll ask for a 100 to cover expenses and then they'll
post a check
for 1,000,000,000. And yes I just to attention when its from
the desk of barrister James Pooh. And don't let us forget they are believers,
DECIEVERS and crooks and liars that is what they really are. With each email
address that is zapped they get an even more improbable new address. I still
think Bill Gates should let me send a zapping email that wipes their hard
drive. But he's too busy trying his new Google phone. Hey Bill can you just put
that down for as second and help me with this email. However somewhere in the
wide world somebody who has English as a 2nd language may end up reading this
and think Bill Gates is sitting on the chair next to me sobering up after
stealing all my beer from the fridge, and then I'll end up will 200 junk emails
a day. But as
we all know today is Thursday 7th Jan and every
Thursday
that is also the 7th Bill goes bowling with the
President, not the USA President, but with the
President
of the Michael Casey appreciation society and
they read all my stories from my site
www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com
AND IF YOU BELIEVE ANY OF THIS THEN YOU BELIEVE IN
FAIRIES, or you are still reading from a
Blackboard......
I asked my
daughter for an idea then I'd write a story, just as we all used to do when we
were kids in school. She said "Pain" as I hurt my back again recently
and it took 2 weeks to heal. But I decide to write about Horror instead. As I
speak the kids are in bed, either that our they are staying in their room and
drawing. Drawing is big in our house. My wife is very good and can ever do
calligraphy in Chinese symbols. My own brother can also draw well, so I'm
pleased its being passed down the generations. Me, I'm just rubbish.
What about
horror? Well you meet somebody and then they turn out different to what you
expected, so that in a way
is a horror
story. As for real horror films, or suspense films they tend to be polarised.
You have the buckets of blood ones, which I cannot really watch. Or the
suspense ones, with the creek on the stairs. I think the creek on the stairs
ones are better, buckets of blood ones tend to be just that, all buckets of
blood and no plot. I saw the Lost Boys recently on TCM it was funny and had a
good plot and did not rely on too much blood. My wife hides behind her hands
when the suspense ones are on. It was film that brought us together, watching
films, and yes we
friends arrive I say "welcome to the Adams
family" ,
sharing a good film does break down barriers.
Japanese films are good too, the cartoons that are
so
well drawn, we saw one this afternoon it had even
won an
oscar, best of all it was on BBC so there were no
adverts
to ruin the film. It’s still funny when we see an
old film
and it’s the first time my wife has seen it in
English, or
without Chinese subtitles. But then I watch Chung
Ying
Fat in some things and I'm raving about it. My wife
just
gives me a potted history of all the stars and who
is
married to
who. So films are our joy, so don't switch off the lights I'm going to bed now
and I'll make lots of noise as I go up the scared, just to frighten away any
ghosts that may be there.
98.How to bribe the kids while the wife is at the dentist
Well, just how do you bribe the kids while the wife is at the dentist? The
answer is Dr Who, a science fiction action show for all the family. Goggle will
reveal all.
My kids
knew there were 2 Dr Who episodes on tonight on 2 different stations. They
reminded their best friend and
her nana on
the way home, it was so important not to miss one.
Once home
we had 2 hours before Dr Who started. So books out and must be read before any
tv. Apart from me and Tv news, I watch BBC, Sky, Fox News. My girls hammered
the books and I prepared their meal. Mini instant 3 minute pizza, followed by
milk and bananas and oranges.
Normally
its Chinese food made by my wife, rice with everything, so what I dish up is a
change for them. Its three saucepans on the go and my wife stirring just like
the witches in Macbeth, ubble, bubble, boil and eye of newt and tail of bat.
That's how I tease her, you have to, it’s what she'd grown use to after 10years
or so.
The kids ate
and I watched the news. Then the reading all done it was wash then Dr Who, I
got them to get all cleaned up so they could watch Dr Who back to back. Dr Who
then bed, everything all done by 8pm. Well so much
for the plan. The 1st episode I did not want to watch again
so I browsed the Internet, just in case Tiger Woods had stopped by.
The 2nd
episode of Dr Who was set in ancient Pompeii, on Volcano Day. I have actually
been there, back in 1995 its a great sight to see. If you ever get the chance
then do go, but no doubt Google can reveal lots for you. So I enjoyed Dr Who
with the kids, I should say that Dr Who started 40 years ago when I was a kid,
it was reinvented recently and has won awards like the British equivalent on a
Tony award. Yes that good. Dr Who does not die he just grows a new body and
carries on, he's over 900 years old. I'd love to see his 401 plan. So Dr Who
ended and the kids went to bed. Result.
My wife
arrived late, I knew she'd gone off for an adventure. Only to Cost Co for
margarine, with the coins she'd stolen from my wallet all in the name of car
park machines. I had wanted to go with her tomorrow because you can get a great
hot dog and a soda and a soda refill for 1,47 which is 2.25 in dollars I think.
So I had
missed my
chance for a hot dog. She did have some news though. Her wisdom teeth would be
taken out in January, and they wanted to pay her 150pounds or 220dollars IF she
witches and she would be in the pot so to speak. I told
her she should have said NO. She had said No
already. Then
she told me the date. The date for her wisdom teeth
to
come out will be my dad's 8th anniversary of his
death.
My daughter
brought her first Christmas card home from school today, so in time honoured
tradition I picked her up and we placed it on top of the kitchen cupboards. In
fact she had 5 cards, so we bunched them all together so that when the
avalanche of cards arrives we will have room for them all. Back in the days
when me and my sister lived at home there were stings going backward and
forward across the living room and the tally was 200 or even 250, my sister
was/is very popular so her cards were the bulk of those that the Casey family
got.
So now
25years and more further on I hold up my daughters and we display the cards.
Soon the kitchen space will be full so then I perch the cards on the paintings
that we have on the walls, then we fill the space on top of the telly with more
cards. Christmas is on its way. My brother came with cards and presents for the
girls. I hid
the presents and they will have to wait 3 more weeks
before they get them. They love their uncle because
he
always brings something, he does look a bit like
santa
too what with his huge white beard. Our mother no
doubt
blesses all her children from Heaven, we continue
the
love without her.
My youngest was at a Birthday party tonight so I took her big
sister with me when I went to fetch her home. We went up the shopping street
and could see the Christmas lights as they were switched on tonight. We also
noticed how the posher streets than ours were so dark, at least our
street
lights were brighter. We passed by one of my dream houses, but again in the
gloom I did not like it so much. Bringing the small one home we got her to
close her eyes and walk, she didn't cheat either then on the count of three she
opened her eyes to see all the pretty colours that make up the shopping street
Christmas decorations. she was impressed.
Walking
home we observed all the Christmas trees and lights that people had in their
own homes, nice and pretty. Though it does remind me of County Kerry when
everybody has a light in the window, so you can look from Cromane over to Inch
on the Dingle Peninsula and see all the lights in the windows. I think its to
guide the 3 kings, but ask your own local priest or Fr. Google may know. Though
it was in 73 when I remember it the most. We were all much younger then.
Christmas is a time of Love and Family, a time of watching The Bishop's Wife
with Cary Grant. Of watching a Christmas Carol with a tear in
I went to
see a friend and his crew today, a few beers followed by a noodle bar, a few
jokes too. Time really does fly when you are enjoying yourself. 40 years worth
of time to be exact, I've know Big D since grammar school, 40 years ago. In
fact my mother knew his grandmother for years before we ever met. He remembers
our exam scores from 40years ago. He credits me with much more than I really
am. Though I do use him for references, why because he went to University, in
fact he is Dr BigD PhD,
I had him
sign his name at my wedding too, just so my kids in the future would be
impressed by it all. Mind you once I married into a Chinese family and met
Chinese folks a PhD was quiet common. If there are 1350,000,000 people you had
better have a great CV or you'd get nowhere. Also at my wedding was William and
Cindy. Cindy was a beach babe/lifeguard from Taiwan and her husband William was
Dr William and his PhD was in Metallurgy, and my dad was a Blacksmith, so
William was both impressed and honoured to meet my dad. On the bus Big D, which
is his nickname because he is so small and Big D was a brand of peanuts 40years
ago. On the bus Big D was telling me how he had to take a few exams every year
so that he
stayed certified as a Path Lab person, obviously I'm totally
ignorant of all things medical. On my wedding day
JJ
and Big D were doing chemical equations on a napkin in
McDonalds, jj the wife has a chemistry degree so they have something in common.
Big D once had chicken's feet cooked for him by jj at our house, he thinks I'm
a girl
for not
trying them. The bus carried on so I asked had he made his Will yet, what with
swine flu around, besides he could always leave me his stamp collection. Then
I'd buy a bigger house. Sadly he said he wanted to be burnt with all his
worldly goods with him , a bit like a Viking I suppose. I told him JJ wanted to
be cremated too, but I told her I'd just bury her in the back yard. Yes we did
get a few strange looks from people on the bus, but we had alcohol and Chinese
in us so we didn't care. He told me he'd send a postcard from Seattle, he's
been going there for 8 years, so Christmas time is his vacation time. Then he
stumbled off the bus, my stop is 3 stops more down the road. So I got off and
did my usual sprint down the Bearwood rd. I noticed a half price bed in one
shop, IF I can squeeze it into my dog leg stairs then I may get a new bed for
Christmas. Then getting home I managed to fix the computer, 1st law of
electrics, unplug
and rest and then try again. So it worked. I also entered a
win a watch competition on a watch website. So if I win then I'll have a nice
new watch, a 250dollar automatic one, it will be my Christmas present. At the
moment I
wear one donated
by my Chinese dad the year before he was tragically killed in Shanghai. But I
did meet him when I went to Shanghai in 2000, and he agree with me, he was the
only one who agree with me that sending jj back to
tell all my
bad points WAS the right thing to do. And the rest is history or you can have a
look at the photos section. That's about it really, oh by the way tomorrow our
youngest is a sheep in the Nativity Play so I'm looking forward to that. And
then 14-18 Feb is Chinese New Year. So Goodnight Wherever You Are, HIC
Well
I hope you all enjoyed this selection of Blogs. Amazon Kindle has 5 of my books
for sale. So enjoy
and click link to buy my 19 books on Amazon
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
today is 24/May 2013
