ColoursAug 8, '12 6:01 PM
for everyone
Colours©
By Michael Casey
I don’t know about you but I find BBC4 has some really good stuff on it. Today I was
catching up on a programme about colour in Art, then tonight I caught the final
episode which was really interesting. We all have a favourite colour, mine is
blue, not too blue but blue enough, and then there is the Virgin Mary blue that
you see on statues of Mary in church. The show on tv explained how the Church
wanted to keep a monopoly on the colour, and in fact how only She should be
coloured in that blue. So it was heresy for Mary not to be painted in the right
colour so to speak. This is the European tradition, for Faiths all over the
world I imagine there are and still are rules and so forth, so I’ll stick to
Europe.
I’ve always liked paintings, I saved up and bought a
few for my walls many years ago before I was married, you know when you don’t
have to think about children’s shoes and so forth, now you think about the
colours of the shoes at your daughter’s school and not about paintings for your
wall, though both my daughters are artists.
Colours are Life, they really are, we have the beauty of girls all over
the world and the traditions of hair and the colour of clothing, to be honest a girl’s smile and eyes are the
most important thing in my opinion.
Girls being girls like or should I say adore a bit of colour, it really
does control men, if you like colour is the bait that gets a girl noticed and a
man hooked. Yes I know that sentence may annoy some, but you can write your own
essay and let people judge your writing. Colour is soft, colour is cold, colour
is warm, it is matched and mixed, and when every aspect of colour comes
together it stops the show. How do I know this? I have a Shanghai wife and two
daughters, they have taught me! However for me its just the eyes and smile
which I look for.
In the tv show it talked about artists’ ideas and
beliefs, their feelings are so intense, a factor of 100000 compared to you and
me, Don McClean’s Starry Starry Night explains a lot, even Dr Who when
he met Van Gogh, colour means so much. We can hate a colour for many reasons,
it may have been your school uniform or your work uniform. I wear rugby shirts
a lot, so bright orange with a polo scene on my Polo is my favourite, I can
wear office wear when I have to, but otherwise its big brash colours for me, on
my site and on Facebook you can see my use or abuse of colours.
On the show they talked about architecture and the
use of scale and colour, why do dictators like themselves so much, North Korea
has giant statues, Fascists had statues galore and giant imposing buildings to
match their egos. To me its like the Emperors New Clothes, we the people should laugh at those kind of
people, their worth and intellect is in inverse proportion to their monuments. In North Korea the new boss’s wife has her
fancy handbag worth 1 year’s salary
compared to the average person in that country. Laughter should be used
to bring those people down.
Banksy leaves graffiti all over the place making a
statement about stuff, perhaps he should do a tour of all these totalitarian
places and draw moustaches and chads all over the loved leaders posters. The trouble with leaders is that
they see things in black and white, colours are forbidden.
0 Comments
Food
and PandaAug 2, '12 1:33 PM
for everyone
We've just come back from a family meal at Wing Wah,
the one by Wing Yip supermarket. Its a bit like doing bingo, you get a list of
up to 80 and you tick off what you want to eat. You have a sip of your drinks
while you are waiting. Then wave after
wave of food arrives, its more like snacks, very tasty. Jing Jie, the wife,
ordered 11 items, including chicken feet. We did not finish everything so we
took two items home, and Jing Jie ordered half a duck too as take away. All in
all good value, and best of all she paid. I'm all for equality where women pay.
We then paid a visit to Costco to get some books for Annie our daughter, Eve
wanted a giant teddy bear, 53inches tall, but we did not get it for her. You can also get a cheap snack at Costco
should the need arise.
I'm also on Facebook, in the vain hope of getting
noticed as a writer, hasn't worked yet. There is another Michael Casey on
Facebook, but he is a porter at Heartlands hospital. And to add to the
confusion on Amazon Kindle there is another Michael Casey, but he is a Monk and
writes spiritual texts, so that's not me. I have 4 photos of myself on the
covers, those are me.
Cheerio from Birmingham, I'm listening to Usher on
the computer as I talk to you, I got a free CD when I bought some aftershave.
Usher is good, I just hope his aftershave is, or I'll give it to the wife
instead.
I forgot to say one of our pandas is a bit dizzy, he
was looking manky so we popped him in the washing machine, we watched as his
face appeared and disappeared as he tried to swim around the washing machine.
Panda came out all bright and clean, the white whiter than white and the black
all nice and black, Bold really does work. He said he's talk to his cousin Ted
about it. Now the panda is sitting on top of a chair with his bum in the air to
dry it.
0 Comments
And
the Gold Goes toJul 30, '12 9:06 AM
for everyone
And The Gold Goes To ©
By Michael Casey
It’s the Greatest Show On Earth and after years of
being a couch potato its every sports fan’s chance to shine. So it’s off to the
off-licence for crates of Stella Artois and multi-packs of crisps and a load of
chocolates. Then there must be pizzas, 20 pizzas to share, no arguing Pepperoni
Rules ok? And after all this eating and drinking there must be toilet paper, so
a 48 role multi packet from Costco will do the trick, just in case the host’s house gives you the
squits, at least a full role ready with 3 more ready on the shelf.
So all is ready and you have a spare set of
batteries for the Sky remote control, the chairs are in the best position in front of the 42inch
lcd tv, cushions are ready and crisps are at hand and 16 cans are ice cold and
ready in the fridge. So let the games begin, everything is ready, apart from
air freshener and domestos.
“Pass us a can, and a packet of cheese and onion
crisps,” you shout before burping and lifting a leg to fart. You flick through
the 35 BBC digital channels of sport, technology is great, Elvis used to have
banks of TVs you only need one a 42inch lcd tv monster. Pizzas are passed out
and faces are decorated with tomato sauce, and the sport has only been on for
30minutes. Then it’s time for another can and a visit to the bathroom, the toilet
paper is ready, see everything is planned to perfection.
You get down stairs only to discover you’ve missed
your favourite sport, but with 35channels you’ll soon catch up. Then disaster
strikes, no not a sprain of a crash of athletes, you cannot find the remote so
everybody has to stand and search for the remote. Then it’s back to the crisps
and Stella, but then another disaster, you cannot find the matches to light
oven. Somebody has an idea, then you lean over the garden fence with a twisted
piece of paper and like an Olympic torch
you lead it into the house to light the oven for more pizza.
So welcome to the 2012 London Olympics, your friends
and you have already won the Gold for pizza, Stella and laddish behaviour.
1 Comment
FlowersJul
24, '12 1:07 PM
for everyone
Flowers ©
By Michael Casey
I was talking to Ana and we got talking about flowers and gardens and such like, I told her
to look at www.rightmove.co.uk and enter B67 with a radius of 1 mile, then she
could see what Birmingham looked like. As quick as a flash she showed me a
house on the site, I told her it was a ten minute walk from my house and that
there was a park and then a wood nearby. All a world away from her own
homeland, every country has its own treasures.
I told her what my garden looked like, the grass was
cut yesterday as it happens, what kind of flowers we have. I forgot to mention
our small front garden with roses, fuchsia and pink hydrangea too. Talking to Ana made me think of my mother,
she had green fingers all the way up to her elbow, she even left a surprise
after her death, white daisies sprung up in my sister’s garden weeks after our
mother had died, a kiss from Heaven so to speak.
Flowers remind us of loved ones and bring smiles and
sometimes tears back, but most of all flowers bring us pleasure. Flowers are
given on Mother’s Days and Birthdays and
on Wedding Anniversaries, and at Funerals too. There is a lot of love
connected with flowers, kiss from a rose Seal sings, daisy daisy give me an
answer true, if I am remember The Good Old Days correctly. The thing is flowers
mean something and flowers mean more to women than men. Flowers are symbols,
they are even on some National flags, the humble Shamrock is a symbol of Faith
and of a Nation too.
Flowers were used in the English Civil War hundreds
of years ago, the War of the Roses , white and red roses, if I’m remembering my
History correctly. Flowers have a scent, they are soft to the touch, as soft as
a lover’s first kiss, flowers hide the stench of death, ring a ring a roses a
pocket full of roses means something. Flowers are spread on a wedding bed, a
bride’s delight with the scent of roses.
Flowers can also be false, a traitor, a trap, hiding
behind smiles of love when really it is lust. Me am I all romantic, do I bring
flowers for my wife all the time? No never, I never bring flowers, even though
I have a painting of red and yellow roses on the wall behind me. No, because
she has hay fever.
2 Comments
Saturday
with the girlsJul 14, '12 1:22 PM
for everyone
Took the girls on a mystery walk this afternoon.
They had been swimming in the morning, then singing in the afternoon, at a
wedding and they got a few quid too. Then it was time for our Saturday
afternoon stroll. I had been looking at www.rightmove.co.uk with area B67 and 1 mile radius. So I knew
that near my daughter's new school there were some great houses, only 4 times
tyhe value of ours, but maybe one day I'll win the lottery. So we went for a
walk and the girls tried to guess where
we were going. When we got to the top of the main shopping they guessed I was
taking them to the new school. I told them it was a mystery, and we walked past
the school. The girls said I was in league with the fairies and I was taking
them nowhere. I promised a shop and a treat from the shop when we got there.
The girls did not believe me. I knew from Google exactly where I was going, I
kept on saying keep right on to the end of the road, then keep looking right,
they did not believe me at all, more comments about fairies and fairy dust.
Finally we arrived and there was 7 shops in a row with a newagents at the end.
So we had tiptops from the shop and then headed back. Tip tops are plastic bags
full of flavoured ice, if any of you not from UK have never heard of tip tops.
I was transported back 45years. I really enjoyed the tip top, we'd walked 3
miles nearly 5k to reach there. Going back is always faster, so we got back
with 10k under our belt, or should I say under our shoes. We did stop off for a
lottery ticket, so maybe we can afford to move there IF we win. Now the girls
are watching Charlie and The Chocolate Factory for the 10th time, as they eat
mint flavoured chocolate. Twilight is on afterwards so we'll watch that
together. I hope you all had a good family day today. Michael in a dry for a
day Birmingham
1 Comment
Facebook
the new Pen PalsJul 13, '12 6:33 PM
for everyone
Facebook the new Pen Pals ©
By Michael Casey
I used to have a SW radio and I’d listen to all the
foreign stations from all around the world, in English as I’m not
multi-lingual, though one of my brothers is, and a very old friend from grammar
school too. The quality of the radio reception was truly amazing, I had a
30foot round room antennae made from old electrical wire. I had a schedule and
I’d listen religiously to all the programmes, I even got a request on Radio
Brazil, and one on radio Switzerland. That was 30years ago and more. I even
heard radio Australia. This was before computers and Internet.
People will probably laugh when they hear of SW
radio, it was the bees’ knees back then, BBC world service is SW radio still.
Reaching out, or listening out was very interesting for me. My first radio was
a blue plastic radio with a small square battery in it, the kind of battery you
have in your 2 smoke alarms. I listened
to BBC Radio4 on an old Bush radio for 20years before I tried writing, so you
can understand just how important radio was/is to me. Radio brings another
dimension to your life, as children we listen under the bedclothes so dad
cannot hear. Or we’d save up for an earphone, which went in one ear only,
headphones did not exist back then, 1960s what an era to grow up in. We had a
white plastic radio for the living room, my dad heard my brother’s request on
Tony Blackburn, long live Tony Blackburn.
Computers and Internet have changed the ball game.
We can speak and see folks all over the world, we broadcast to Ma in Shanghai
all the time, MSN messenger does the trick, its all so easy. You’d be burnt as
a witch if you predicted all this years ago, but technology does bring all of
us together, that is truly wonderful.
Now what about Face Book. It does bring people together, even if Mark
Zuckerberg never answers my messages, and has never bought any of my books.
Face Book is the modern short wave radio, it brings people together from all
over the place, and best of all it’s a 2 way communication. So in my case I
contact writers in the vain hope that they’ll think I’m a great humour writer
and tell their agents and hey presto I’ll have a 4 book deal and be on Opera
telling her about my latest oeuvre, and I promise I won’t jump up and down on
the couch, I weight more than a heavyweight boxer. Another side to FB is the sharing experience,
so as I did some Esol English teaching
I can give a few tips, share a few websites with people.
LearningEnglishWithMrDuncan on UTUBE is a great resource, 150 short lessons
with subtitles. Mr Duncan is now working in Shanghai, this amuses me because my
mother-in-law could end up as his landlady. I would still like Mark Z to buy my
4 books and tell the world to do the same, then I could live in Palo Alto, and
who knows Mark Zuckerberg could be my landlord.
0 Comments
We
all just love call centres (c) Jul 12, '12 3:31 PM
for everyone
We all just love call centres ©
By Michael Casey
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 trousers’ 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 fag 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, its 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."
1 Comment
What
Uniforms Say About UsJul 9, '12 8:54 AM
for everyone
What Uniforms Say About Us ©
By Michael Casey
Our eldest daughter is off to Secondary School in
the Autumn, so she has a few taster days at the school, so it won’t all be a
big surprise when she gets there. The parents are all invited too, so we can
see what the school is like and what the school expects of the students. Some
say the new school is strict, I just think its like my old Grammar school 40
years ago, so it’s good.
The new school had a uniform display and uniform
shop so the parents could get ready for the new school term. It’s quiet expensive,
but we have a younger daughter, so she can have the hand me downs. She is
always happy with caste offs, we are lucky to have such a daughter. She’s seen
the new school and decided she wants to
go there too, so all in all a good deal.
Why do we have uniforms, to be uniform is the
answer, though I never want to be uniform myself, I want to be me. In schools
it’s to give an identity, or so the tell us; rich and poor alike look the same,
so no envy can show its face. When you follow a football team you buy the strip
because you want to look like your “heros”, the fans have a uniform, and a
uniform appearance. The players wear a uniform so they don’t pass the ball to
the wrong player, only to somebody in the same strip. As players they have lots
individual traits, lots of different tempers playing together to win the game.
When the team is successful the rewards are mind boggling, they have an off the
field uniform, made up of Bentleys and bling, and vacuous trophy girlfriends,
each with their the same body, the same uniform body.
We have uniforms in other areas of life, such as DHL
and other courier people, it’s a brand so people know immediately how the man
is knocking at their door. The Police have a uniform too, so we all know who
the man is walking down the street, we feel protected by his uniform, it gives
us reassurance on a Friday night. A priest has a uniform too, the clothes he
wears when he says Mass, or the collar with the white bit in the centre instead
of a tie. Uniforms help us connect with those who serve us, who protect us, who
love us.
My dad had a uniform too, size ten steel toe capped
boots, a small leather bag to carry his lunch in, an old Russian soldier
overcoat to keep him warm once he left the warmth of the furnace in Brasshouse
Lane. People have to be safe at work so there is a uniform to keep them safe,
maybe a harness while they clean the windows on the 30th floor.
Teachers have their uniform too, shirt and tie and
maybe a suit trousers and jacket. In my teaching days I wore chinos, blue
chinos and a shirt and tie, though away from a classroom I wear rugby shirts,
like an orange Polo with a Polo playing
scene on it, it’s my off duty look. I always wear comfy Clarkes, your feet are
important, especially if you stand all day. During my 3 years as a Concierge at
CPNEC I was supposed to wear a uniform, I was too fat so I ended up wearing
some decent trousers and an almost matching jacket. People always though I was the manager
because I was not in a uniform like the reception crew, I was the silver haired
guy, 20 years older that the reception people, so I must be the manager.
Everybody’s style is their own uniform, the pants
falling off hips is a modern uniform, they want to be individuals but they all
end up looking the same. Listening to the same music and wearing baseball caps
back to front, holes in jeans, bad haircuts which are good, and bad means good
now, its confusing. Music is a uniform too, all so very same, no never as good
as decades before, pick your own decade. Flick through the music channels on
Sky and its all so very samey, yes there are some great new people, Lady Gaga
for example, but just how much is the music all the same, so uniform.
It’s our words that stop us being so uniform, how we
speak and what we actually say, and then do. It’s when we step out of the
uniform that we can make change. If you look at my photo what do you see and
what do you think? “He’s an old fart, he can’t do anything .” You’ll have to judge for yourselves, I hope
in the end you do realise, I’m not uniform.
0 Comments
Tombstone
(c) By Michael CaseyJul 5, '12 10:05 AM
for everyone
Tombstone (c)
By Michael Casey
What do we leave
when we leave this life? We leave a wife and grieving children, we leave
a few friends. If we have had a long life we don't leave any friends because
they have gone before us. All that remains of us is our tombstone, our name
etched in gold on a stone.
Some have the job of erecting these stones, what do
they think of as they put the stones in place? Do they think of the poor dead
person lying dead below in the grass. Do the tombstone installers think of the
lives gone before? Do they think of how old or young the deceased are. That man
was the same age as me, or whatever?
The words chosen can reveal a little about the
deceased. He was a dad, he was an uncle, he was a man without a name. He was
the unknown soldier. She was a Jane Doe with nobody to mourn her, she had lain
in a fridge for 6 months and now finally she was buried. Nodbody came to her
funeral, just old Mrs Casey who hitched a ride with the priest so the dead were
not buried all alone. A stranger saying a pray for the unloved.
Tombstones are not always sad. Spike Milligan had
"I told you I was unwell" etched on his stone, written in Gaelic so
not to offend English speakers. My own Chinese dad, my father in law his stone
is all black marble with gold writing in Mandarin, but also on it is one small
piece of English "MichaelgCasey" its almost as if my email
address is on his tombstone, has the
Internet reached Eternity? No, but it has reached one small corner of a
Shanghai graveyard.
0 Comments
From
a Father to a DaughterJul 2, '12 6:47 PM
for everyone
From a Father to a Daughter ©
By Michael Casey
We took our small daughter swimming today, Monday is
her day and Saturday is her big sister’s. As me and big sister watched the
swimming we talked about the future, Secondary school. My daughter wanted to
know what exactly Physics was, and could I help her with the Maths once she
started secondary school. I promised to do my best but now it was a long time
since I was at school.
I told her she could do anything she liked, she
could be an architect or a designer, I mentioned the Bird’s Nest stadium in
Beijing; here was a great design that was world famous, she was ½ Chinese after
all so who knows what great things she could achieve. I
don’t believe girls are restricted in their career or life path, in fact
I do believe that girls are best.
I explained how it was when I was at grammar school,
I was the 3rd brother in the same grammar school, GD as we called it. I said
how we had some really clever people in my class, one Dr Peter as still a friend
after 40years, I hoped she could make friends that would last a lifetime. I
have told her to make friends especially with those who can help her with her
weakest subjects, be honest and open about it, they can help each other, a
trade if you like.
I explained that technique can beat brains, the
chicken and the hare I miss said, it’s the tortoise and the hare, in the
swimming baths they have a giant turtle on the wall as big as a bus. My big
daughter has loads of technique, she has a great work ethos, she works so hard
she could be a Protestant. Clever people can get lazy or bored, that’s when the
technique of the worker beats them. My girl has beat the Maths wiz in her class
because of her technique, so the little boy is cross, he is not the winner any
more. I told her how her uncles used to stop up past Midnight that’s why they went to the best Universities in the
world.
In two days time she will have an induction lesson
at her new school, then in the evening we all go up to say hello and buy the
school uniform. At home, the family home we have a photo over 35years old on
the wall, its of my sister in her old grammar school uniform, so I will
recreate that photo and give the photo to my sister so she can put it on her
wall.
0 Comments
PerspectiveJun
26, '12 12:51 PM
for everyone
Perspective ©
By Michael Casey
We were walking home after school and we decided to
take another road instead of our usual one, it’s a quieter road and it’s a
curvy road. What this did was change our perspective when we hit the main road
again. In fact my daughter couldn’t recognise our street because of our view,
we were higher and looking down at our street, the trees framed it, so it
looked prettier than the normal view. I suppose every street has a good end and
a bad end, we are at the good end I suppose and the bad end is the route to and
from school. You could live your life and never see the other end of your
street because you always take one route and never another, the quickest route
to the bus stop or the shops.
As a non-driver I take a smaller amount of routes,
because I’m on foot or I’m on the bus, so when the wife drives me places it’s a
different perspective. Birmingham does have a good bus service so I get where I
need to go without discovering too many different roads. Back streets stay off
my radar, though I do go walkabout and enjoy our local woods and I dream about
being able to live just besides the woods, I even have a name for a dog, Subway
the dog will be our dog if ever I sell some books. I will enjoy daily walks in
the woods with Subway, though its more likely I’d winn the lottery first, which
means it’ll probably never happen, but dreams are dreams.
Perspective is a thing we have in life too, having a
Shanghai wife has changed my perspective, a whole new world has opened up, I
have an Eastern eye now. Having two daughters does change your perspective
too, Disney Channel and girly tv, not to
mention Fashion and girls knickers cluttering up the bathroom. This reminds me
when I make some money I want my own
bathroom too, a male only bathroom, with no lotions and potions in my way. The
girls are far too young to shave, but I don’t want to share my razor with leg
shaving girls in the future.
A tragedy is a very swift changer of Perspective, if
only we knew this, if only we knew that, I would never have said this if I
knew. Augustinian thinking talks about putting the other person’s shoes on, I
didn’t learn this, it was part of a sermon I once heard at Saint Mary’s. Having
an awareness for others’ views or feelings before blundering in, this is a mark
of sensitive thinking. Lads may laugh and say you are “soft” but girls like the
softer side, and the “drippy” one may end up with the Belle. In Tears for A
Butcher the drippy lads will get the twin Belles, why will I write it that way,
because I want to highlight what is truly best. So a man with a stammer and a
man with a limp will get the two Princesses, these two blokes are the real men,
not mouthy ignorant types that you see on Reality tv, its all about seeing
Perspective after all.
1 Comment
Crockery
or Cups and Saucers to You and MeJun 19, '12 8:21 AM
for everyone
Crockery or Cups and Saucers to You and Me ©
By Michael Casey
A cup, a glass, a mug. What do you drink from? I
have a mug with a cat on the front with a mouse on its head, on the back is a
reverse view. Its in a saucer like thing that came from a fancy mug, its either
used as a saucer or you put it on top to keep your tea warm, so really it’s a
lid that I use as a saucer.
Why do I ask you this? Well what we drink from or
how we describe it denotes our Class or
how we see ourselves. Politicians leaving with a mug of tea in their hands is a
load of rubbish, its pretentious and I know I just say “I hope he spills it on
himself the silly man” We used to have decent cups for visitors, and mum would say, “don’t give
him one with a chip in”, all those years ago. The Royal Wedding, the Charles
and Di one, led to mugs plastered with their picture. We had a cousin visit
from Cork, he remarked that his kids would love one, so my mum emptied the
dresser of the cups, mugs I mean. He had 6 kids so six mugs went back to Cork,
you couldn’t miss out any of his children.
A visiting priest would get a cup and saucer, now
that is posh, anybody else would get a mug, this was way back in the past.
You’d have a sideboard in your middle
room and the best crockery came out on important occasions, such as Christmas.
We’d have a sugar bowl too that made an appearance at Christmas as well. Plates
with fancy patterns and the plates had a design on the edge, so they weren’t
exactly circular, they may have even had gold on them. A bottle or port was
also in that cupboard and it came out on special occasions, that one bottle of
port may have lasted 7 years.
I was still living at home when I came across a
fancy crockery set, the love bird Chinese design on it. I bought it for a fiver
of a tenner in West Brom. Six of everthing, cups, saucers, plates, side plates,
and bowls. I told my mum the next person to get married in the family could
have it. So it gathered dust in the sideboard in our middle room, we never had
a lounge or dining room. We had front, middle and living room, no fancy names
for us. The years moved on and nobody else got married, we all ended up
marrying in our fourties. So I took the fancy crockery to my new home, the
Chinese love birds design in blue, years later I married a Shanghai girl….
What you have in the dresser can say a lot about a
family, how many in the family for example. I remember 40years ago and more my
brother was looking for something, he thought it was on top of the dresser in
are old, very small kitchen before the extension. He climbed up and leant on
the indoor washing line we had across the kitchen, CRASH. The dresser fell over
and everything was smashed, cups and saucers and plates the lot, we could have
been a Greek family celebrating by smashing the crockery. Dad came home and he
had to go back out again to Malcome’s
on the Dudley Rd to replace everything. Dad returned with thick, really
thick plates that might be strong enough to celebrate any Greek like
celebrations.
In my kitchen cabinet I still have some of the
Chinese love bird crockery, I even have some fancy thin plates with gold
pattern on. I have my sister’s left overs, crockery not food that is. Now I
have my own family things do wear out, you also get fireworks in your
microwave. Gold pattern plates don’t mix
with microwaves, it’s like lightning in the microwave. We have a lot of mugs
too, Easter eggs in mugs means we have a
new mug once the chocolate is eaten.
What about fine dining, we see all the cookery shows
on tv, and we see fancy people all dressed up with all the knives and forks in
front of them. I think you start from the outside and work your way inwards,
though if anybody thinks to invite me, they should know this I eat with a fork
in my right hand, so the crockery needs to be the other way around.
3 Comments
One
DimensionalJun 16, '12 5:57 PM
for everyone
One Dimensional ©
By Michael Casey
One Dimensional, what does that mean to you? To me
it’s when you come across somebody or thing that is flat. No personality, no
comprehending of anything other than itself. You may meet a maths geek, who can
even get a PhD in maths very early in his/her life, but do they know anything
else? Do they know about History or Art or Music, or about anybody else's Faith
or belief? Do they even care for anything else, are they stuck in a rut. It really saddens me when you meet such a
person, that person is only half a person. Their parents may be proud parents
and he is even the joy of the village, but really the "genius" is
just 1/2 a person. Think back to Good Will Hunting, the genius in the end
throws it all away so her can chase after his girl and find love. I support
that view entirely, I've heard of somebody like that who was lost, all alone, a
prisoner in his own mind. I remind my girls they should have lots of different
things in their lives, be observant, watch and observe life all around them.
They may make it as writers where I have not so far. Life is Lego, you mix and
match experiences and friends and things to build something new, then you take
it apart and make something else. With one friend we are like this, we another
we are like that. If we drink we may be more relaxed or we may just be terrible
and chase the girls and get our faces slapped or get beaten up by husbands and
boyfriends. Life is a mixture of happy
and sad or even tragic events, it shapes us or moulds us. We are not rock, we
are like sponges that soak up life's events. I hope I'm never called One
Dimensional, with the size of my chest and belly that will never happen. I know
a man who travelled all around the world, he came back to our company and he
was exactly the same as before he left, dull. I'm not asking people to deny
what they are, to abandon their faith or their loves, or what they are good at
and enjoy. I just want people to see the world with bigger eyes, to talk to
walk, to sing and shout, not just to smirk when they have a PhD in maths at 17
years old. Go and do something
different, experience more of the world, you cannot make love to a calculator.
You can travel in your mind and you can be a writer, you can touch people with
your words, you can bring them hope, you
can bring solace. Just be more than One Dimension.
0 Comments
Growing
Up For DadsJun 12, '12 5:28 PM
for everyone
Growing Up For Dads
©
By Michael Casey
Does anybody remember Algebra? My daughter is doing
lots of maths and she asks me to help. Arithmetic I can do and I remember
getting 4 of the best on my behind by the teacher with a pump, for not knowing
my times tables. Next time he asked I knew them. I was 8 at the time. I did do
my Maths exam one year early along with English but that's a long time ago. My
wife was a toddler then, I do have a young wife. But its at the edge of my
memory when I am asked questions by my
daughter. She moves to 2ndary school in September and having an 11year old in
the house is amazing. And it only feels like seconds ago when she was born in
the middle of the night. So time and
tide and algebra waits for no man. Arithmetic is spontaneous, I don't even know
just how do I know the answers. I just
do, and that's great because I can help my daughter. She looks exactly like me,
a I look at her face its like looking into a magical looking glass and I'm
seeing myself as a child, though she is a femine version of myself. So I have
grown older with silver hair, a sign of
wisdom I hope, but in her face I see the future again. I hope I'll be of use as
she progresses through 2ndary school. I had to visit the school today to fill a
few forms in, I walked it so I could tell her just how much time she'd need to
get there. I ended up walking 5miles or 8 k today, good for my fat belly no
doubt. I was able to answer questions on Quakers and The Society Of Friends, I
was even able to tell her that Dame Judy Dench, M, James Bond's boss was a Quaker. So I'm not totally useless after all.
0 Comments
Look
in the mirror and what do you see?Jun 8, '12 3:12 PM
for everyone
Look in the mirror and what do you see? ©
By Michael Casey
Looking in the mirror what do you see?
Do you see yourself looking back at you?
Do you see grey hairs or are you still black?
Do you see yourself pretty and young?
Are you 20 or 30 or 40 or more?
Does a mirror show your age or just your rage?
Does your bust stand proud, or has it sagged?
Does your stumble look white, are you balding and
white?
Is your hair receding to match your pot belly?
Does your corset hold everything in?
Do younger men still look at you, are you still
young enough to
blush?
When you look into your eyes are you sad and grey?
Have the lights gone out in your eyes?
Or is there a glint, a bit of mischief too?
Or are your eyes sad and lonely, all hope gone?
When the kids come home do you dispare?
Or is there joy and life in your eyes and heart?
Does a kiss make you want to hold her tight and ask
for more?
Is your spirit like a leaf blowing across Autumn
skies?
Does your spirit reach for the sky?
When you finish putting on a tie and you look into
the mirror to
see if it is straight, do you smile or do you frown?
The eyes are the mirror of the soul, so be you man
or be you
woman let the lights flicker in the mirror of your
soul.
1 Comment
From
Bedworth to Bookshelf and BeyondJun 5, '12 7:04 PM
for everyone
From Bedworth to Bookshelf and Beyond©
By Michael Casey
The title sounds like a Buzz Light Year saying in
Toy Story but its not. I’m just wondering why when I Google stuff it keeps on
popping up and saying I’m in Bedworth when I’m always in Birmingham. Any
offers? Am I a botneck or whatever where your computer gets taken over? I don’t
think so, and its not all the time, its just irritating. I have antivirus and
so forth, so why oh why does Google say I’m in Bedworth.
Perhaps there’s a GCHQ in Bedworth, perhaps they
have an interest in my writing. But michaelgcasey.multiply.com has all my stuff
on it, and I annoy Daily Telegraph readers by posting there and on Facebook
too. So why Bedworth, can’t they wait to read my bi-weekly posts?
I also stumbled on something during my regular
random Google searches, don’t do a writing course, just write. A famous SciFi
writer is quoted as saying that, I’ve never heard of him myself, but he’s never
heard of me. I think if you haven’t got an imagination no amount of courses can
give you one. As for style, that just makes me sick, people are all taught to
write with the same style, the teacher’s style. Watch some American tv and read
a little, and see how the style is all the same, I’m not just talking about
writing but about reporters reporting style. They all sound like undertakers
with a death wish, “hey man be happy you are still alive” I want to shout at
them.
So you write and you put 4 books on Amazon Kindle,
you have 300unique blogs on your site, but you don’t make a bean. Why is this?
Because the only people who make money are those writers who cannot write and
just write writers self help books. Or coffee table books written by Z
listers boasting about their sex lives
with Y listers, so of course they sell 2,000,000 copies. Though 1,000,000
copies are remaindered, and you can buy the 20quid opus for a fiver in the
Works.
Perhaps I should write a sex on the coffee table
book, which would sell 3,000,000 copies, but that would be too boring to write.
Perhaps I should go on the after dinner
speaking circuit, I could warm up
the audience for Tony Blair or George Bush, I’d do an hour and get 100quid,
they do 30mins and get 20,000. My speech would be funnier but nobody would come
for me, I’m just the warm up man, but at least I’d get a great free dinner.
See its nice to dream, I hope it proves I have an
imagination, which might mean I should be a writer after all.
0 Comments
Ad
Skipper - Life SkipperMay 29, '12 1:30 PM
for everyone
Ad Skipper – Life Skipper ©
By Michael Casey
I read in the news that Dish TV wanted to skip the
ads in the tv it bought for its viewers, really its trying to get a discount
from Fox, but this is their bargaining ploy. They have a machine that will skip
the ads, now as in all things American its in the hands of the lawyers.
We have a Sky+ box at home and we use it to skip the
ads, we record a lot of tv so that we as a family can watch it at a later date.
A one hour show is really 50mins, we skip the ads when we watch the show at a
later date, its fun watching ads at x30 when we are skipping back to Glee,
skipping and Glee do go together, don’t forget the 90min show in 3 days time.
Films not on the BBC can have 20mins of ads in the middle or at the end when
the film has really finished but the next show has not started. So perhaps Dish subscribers should just watch
everything an hour later and then use a Sky+ box or equivalent to avoid the
ads. With the US Election in full swing that in itself is a good reason to time
shift.
But what if you could Life Shift or Life Skip, what would
you avoid? Would you fast forward past your first broken heart, fast forward
through the month of tears, a month of cuddling
up to your old teddy bear, fast forward calling all men “BASTARDS” or
all women “WHORES”? Would you fast forward past all the comfort eating, the
days of not shaving and not caring, the days of tears? What about when your pet gerbil died and it
was buried with full honours in an old shoebox in the garden, you had plucked a
few rose petals and thrown them over its grave. In the night you hear the foxes
in your garden and your beloved gerbil had become their take away or rather dig
up and take away.
Would you skip your first bump on your brand new
car, a 10 year old mini, your pride and joy, you spent days polishing it, and
then you had a run in with old Mr Jones a 85 year old, and it was your fault.
These are the events that mark us, the events we wish never happened, your mum
says it’ll all come out in the wash, and all you want to do is drown yourself,
in the bath. Instead you compromise and drown your sorrows and then get done
for drink driving on your way home from the pub, you get banned for a year and
have to sell your car.
If there was a machine just to edit out the bad
parts of our lives that would sell. We’d all have perfect lives, we’d all be
like Hello Magazine people, perfect just perfect. No beer bellies and 5 days
worth of growth and not enough deodorant, we’d be perfect just like Prom Kings
and Queens in Glee.
Do we learn from the bad bits, the unedited bits of
our lives, the slow and painful bits, the embarrassing bits that seem to last
forever? I’ve had more than my fair share of less than perfect times, learning
the hard way is the best way, even though at the time I wished it was over.
There is a Shakespearean sonnet where he speaks of the value of a good friend
or partner who will stick with you through thick and thin, a bit like wedding
vows, for richer for poorer etc. You DO know who your friends are when things
get sticky, we cannot fast forward real life,
only tv can be fast forwarded. That’s why art imitates life, and not the
other way around.
0 Comments
Pens
and PenmanshipMay 23, '12 11:22 AM
for everyone
Pens and
Penmanship ©
By Michael Casey
I just read a piece in the BBC magazine online, it was
all about fountain pens. Now I immediately have to confess my writing is
terrible, and no I’m not pretending, as far back as 40 years ago at grammar
school I was told off for it. In fact I was told off in Primary school too,
they even got me to write a few rows of “a” and of “b” and so on, it failed to
improved my writing, I was a massive reader at the time, for one year I was
practically left alone to read, perhaps
it was then that my writing died. In grammar school my friends said my
writing was like drunken spiders, or in today’s world my writing is like
spiders on acid. So there you have it, my writing is bad, very bad. So bad
perhaps I should be a doctor.
Once you have bad hand writing people take the mick
when you tell them you are a writer, as did the nice lady from the
neighbourhood office a couple of weeks ago when my daughter went to collect a
prize for drawing. Both my daughters draw and paint, they are very very good at
it, they have a collection of 700 crayons and paints and pencils, not to
mention felts and gel pens and all things that can make marks on paper. My
daughters always need more, so that’s dad’s job to provide more artists
material. I am of course very jealous of their skills, if I bit the top off my
thumb and used that to sign my name that would be an improvement on my
signature.
So what can a writer who cannot write do? He can
type, I remember learning to type in 1978, I stood at the bus stop moving my
fingers and trying to remember the qwerty keyboard. Now I’m a fast typist, when
I’m writing my stuff, I’m not so fast as
a copy typist, nothing is more boring than typing up somebody else’s stuff. I
remember one of the more mature ladies at the law firm who said “I was once
clocked at 100wpm” and so she was, and that why one of the partners gave her
two crates of champagne as a personal thank you for her typing, at that speed
the paper would catch fire no doubt, if we still used the old typewriters.
So how can this writer improve his writing? I use
different fonts on Word, and hope people like the look, looks do make a
difference. If I can give a silly example, the ASDA near us uses a big bold
font, but the size is too small and the letters touch other. This means to my
eyes it’s terrible, and that’s the only complaint I have about the store, but
I’m sure if any ASDA people read this they may change it. A sign encourages us
to buy or to laugh, when we leave stuff out in the entry for Sky Burial I leave
a note encouraging people to take our junk away. “Sit on Me” for a chair, and “sleep
with me” for a bed, as I look out the window our gay neighbours are getting a
new bed.
We get loads of junk email, if we had an open fire
we’d never need to buy fuel, we’d just toast our bread on junk mail. Junk mail
tries to look appealing and is printed on glossy paper, glossy paper is very
heavy as I can remember when I carried bags at CPNEC, homes abroad salesmen had
cases and cases of the stuff. So writing and communicating all needs words, good words from a writer,
but how those words are written and displayed has a massive impact, ask any
politician. When contracts are signed
it’s done on quality paper that is bound together with a heat bind seal, and
it’ll be a red seal if the contact is for Chinese clients, I know I’ve done
1000s. So presentation is king, you don’t want “thank you for your pieces of
paper” when you send stuff to a publisher, and yes 25 years ago I did get that
putdown. I hope you are all enjoying this Bookman Old Style, but I know just
how important type setting is, another putdown a really good snide one was when
I was turned down for a job and the HR lady replied in flowewry type face and yes I do know her name.
All I can say is thank God for word processors, 1988
was the year I bought an Atari520 just for the word processor and it was very
very expensive, it did play a big part in my life, I had Shoplife accepted by a
theatre, I wrote it in Aug 1988 when the Olympics were on. Yes I’d love to be
able to write, but I can write but not handwrite, so I hope any future readers
will accept a rubber stamp when I do any book signings, my daughters will be on
hand to draw a cartoon on each book.
0 Comments
Alternative
SwearingMay 15, '12 12:29 PM
for everyone
Alternative Swearing ©
By Michael Casey
Swearing is the norm nowadays, but if it defuses
anger and prevents physical violence
then I’d say it’s a good thing, it’s a safety valve. In the Hitchhiker’s
Guide to the Universe “Belgium” was the
worse thing that could be said. Nowadays everybody swears in films, American TV
is very strict so that when it comes to films all the swears that could not be
said on tv are said on film. I remember watching Saturday Night Fever when it
first came out and thinking they don’t need all this swearing, and later the
film was edited so that it got a lower certification and more people could
enjoy John Travolta, as you all know I am Birmingham’s answer to John Travolta.
Now how to we prevent the air going blue, so that
the ladies don’t blush and aren’t offended by all the language. I was
talking to Bernard Manning the other
day, well in my imagination anyway, and he gave me loads of ideas, as did
Lennie Bruce, they share a cloud together in Heaven, it’s a blue cloud of
course. You aren’t calling me a “flowering petal” are you? I’ll be very angry
if you are, “you’re just a custard cream
anyway” Now don’t look at me with that tone of
voice or I’ll “dip your biscuit
in my tea” and there won’t be any “sugar in it either” Are you calling me a
“Politician, take it back you table you”
ok, so we’ve all calmed down a bit.
“Politician” is the rudest word of all in the
alternative swearing dictionary, though don’t broadcast this but I was once
called “A lollypop lady”, I nearly used a “liquorice” on the person who called
me it. Our local MP is a bit of a
“custard pie” it must be true it’s written on all the bus shelters. Tell me why
he is a custard pie, that I cannot deny, he really IS a custard pie. What do
politicians, real politicians call themselves?
Honest as the day is long is what politicians call themselves, but in
reply the press corps call them “A bunch
of Daylight Savings, fiddling with the minute hands” which sounds about right.
Just a moment I can hear my phone ringing, no not another metaphor, my phone
really is ringing.
I’m a bit flustered, that phone call was the worst
I’ve ever had in my life, an hour of heavy breathing, then the lady called me,
I can’t bring myself to repeat what she said, it was so shocking, an hour of
heavy breathing from a lady I can handle, but she just called me a “political
WRITER”.
0 Comments
Bring
Back BarterMay 10, '12 1:39 PM
for everyone
Bring Back Barter© By Michael Casey
Should we bring back barter? I got an ad for
something a few mins ago, so I offered to trade my 4 books for some nice Adobe
software. Could I write a poem for a loaf of bread and some shopping. Could I
pose as a George Clooney lookalike in exchange for some orange juice, and I do
love my orange juice. Could I hop 100yards in exchange for some vegetables or
stand on my head for a bottle of milk. Should I wear my clown hat in exchange
for a nice Jorg Gray watch, the nice blue hands one on Amazon, President Obama
has one but the one I like is cheaper,
84quid. Should I sit on the wall outside
my house and tell stories, I was once called Jackanory when I was at a law
firm, no I'm no lawyer. Would people leave scraps in a bowl for me, would I
earn coins and maybe notes, food of all kinds as a reward for being a modern
fool. Would Prince Charles say "off with his head", would I be thrown
into a dungeon, would I be chained to a wall till my beard was 10feet long and
my nails were long and curly. Would people
people come and mock me in the dungeon. Or would I just be ignored, the
fool on a hill, and I do live on a hill. Who knows or do I have a talent to
amuse, just as a book on Noel Coward was called. Maybe I'll be famous when I'm dead, and no
don't send a hitman to get me, my girls need me, if only to get the bike out
from the shed.
this is from 8 years ago I think
this is me today, in need of a shave, with shades perched on head,I use shades as a filter while I'm at the computer. Let's hope Tinnitus stays away tonight
