Homecomings or why we feel glad

Homecomings or why we feel glad ©

By Michael Casey

I’m so glad, I’m glad I’m glad I’m glad sings Cream on one of their tracks, they are just so glad. Things can make us us glad, silly little things. A couple of hours ago my brother turned up on our doorstep, it was unexpected and unannounced, he doesn’t live in Birmingham he lives near London, so its always nice to see him on one of his flying visits. We were very close as kids and it was on one of his flying visits that her was there when mum was dead in his arms as he tried CPR, and then 8 weeks later on another flying visit he was there and he saved dad’s life with CPR on the bedroom floor, its all in Padre Pio and Me which is on the Internet.

So you can see I’m always happy to see my brother, without him I would not have been invaded by the Shanghai girls. Things in all our lives are signposts to the future and are lanterns from the past that guide us back to happy memories. Me and my brother used to be altar boys together, as Fr Brain used to say I was Sancho Panza to his Don Quixote, Fr Brain is now Bishop Brain. We all feel glad because of shared memories, whether it was stealing the lead off the church roof, or serving Mass in the church below. Though some might say the thieves on the roof were closer to God, technically if not spiritually, though if they fall off the roof then they would have definitely been with God.

So memories bring us home to our past, to lives lost, and wives won, a memory is a hope that changed or morphed into something else. I can look at the sloped wall of the old Lloyds bank and remember pushing DMC off the wall and making him cry, though he insisted he only cried 25%, the memory makes me smile after 50years. Though a certain person did persuade me to hold a banger in my hand while he lit it, if I did that today I’m be armless, it was not a harmless activity. Now I can look back and smile at my only stupidity. A memory is a homecoming to our own past self, to our own naive younger self, but its always god to feel young and innocent before growing up gets in the way.

She’ll be coming round the mountain when she comes, singing ai ai yipee ai eh , is a song we sang in primary school at the Christmas party, you’ll have to grab a primary school teacher to see if I got the words right. I’m sure if you ask parents they’ll all smile because it reminds them when they were young and innocent with no mortgages nor bills, just a pocket full of sweets with a snotty handkerchief on top.

Going back to Ireland has the same effect on me, as I recognise the landscape, the “Pops” , its 2 mountains together which look like giant breasts on the landscape, that’s what my old Aunty Delia from Killarney used to call them. There’s the beach at Cromane, the old coast guards station and the strand, there are the Lakes of Killarney too, as well as the1000s of acres of forest. These are the things that make me smile and all the memories tumble out. A visual stimulus evokes smiles and laughter and tears. Yes I’m from Birmingham but the Love in me was made in Kerry.

A time and a place is in the stones, in the mountains and in the sand and in the sea, and it is is you and in me. People, all of us have a love for our patch, or spot on this earth, for that corner chair in the bar or at the back of the church. That physical connection is in all of us. That’s what lifts us from the dust from whence we came, maybe that’s why we all buy tacky souvenirs with our favourite place, our home printed on them. But they say that Home is Where the Heart is, and so long as its in our Heart it does not matter where we are on the map, for all roads lead Home.  

The Mirrors on our Walls

The Mirrors on our Walls ©

By

Michael Casey

Well its the Wednesday before Christmas and like everybody else we are double checking when our dustbins will be collected over the holidays. I’ve not even finished my Kenco smooth coffee, yes I know you are all laughing the idea of anything smooth and me, ok, so I was listening to Justin Timberlake’s Mirrors and as I listened a pair of old ladies zoomed past on the pavement, or sidewalk in American.

The old ladies must have been in their 70s, their arms were linked and they had long walk coats on with coloured woollen bonnets on their heads, all protected from this first day of winter as the Google graphic tells us. I got up from my chair to watch them, instantly I knew I had today’s story, and that’s how fast the ideas come. I’m still listening to Timberlake Blue Ocean Floor is the track now, when I heard it for the first time a couple of days ago it made me cry, following the Mirrors track. Ok, I’ll admit it, I’m a big softie, I may look like a retired WWW wrestler but I have feelings.

So we all have mirrors on our walls and mirrors in our life, and they do say if you break a mirror it’s 7years bad luck, so what mirrors in your life, people and places and children pulling faces. When my wife came to live with me I had an enormous mirror placed on the bedroom wall opposite the then empty wardrobe. So to me that mirror represents getting married and having my home invaded by Shanghai girls, first my wife then our first followed by our 2^nd daughter, and finally by a female bilingual cat called Totoro.

A mirror allows you to comb your hair before you leave the house, Dan Dan the desperate man, washed his face in the frying pan, combed his hair with the leg of the chair, is the rhythm I can half remember, you can google it for fun. The point being a mirror allows you to tidy yourself before the rest of the world sees you. Puddles used to serve that purpose but if you were in a dry spell then puddleless led to untidiness, but the invention of mirrors sorted all that.

As for lives, they have mirrors and cracked mirrors, a life is much more complicated than a reflection. The old ladies reminded me of the two old sisters who ran the bakery near our house when I was a child, one was married to a short man who wore a white lab coat all the time, and best of all they also ran a sweet shop too. We called it “OffYouGoes” as she always used to say Off You Go back home to your mum. The sisters were inseparable, only death split them apart. Many years later, maybe 40, the surviving little sister was buying bread at the bread shop near my house. I told the shopkeeper later what a high compliment she had received having this baker use her shop.

I used to see a couple of identically dressed twin sisters on my bus coming home work, forever together, it was near impossible to tell them apart. One day and thereafter, after many years of this sight only one was to be seen. I was afraid to ask what had happened for fear of opening up a wound, or a scar to the heart. They looked like legal secretaries to me, I have worked at a Law Firm in my travels, but I’d never know now. And now I’m at home a hausfrau, so I’d never meet them or one of them again.

Brothers match brothers, they go to the same school, and I don’t mean Eton, they go to the same grammar school in my case, or Casey case if you like.Do you or should you match each other? Major, Minor, Minimus as you are called by Mr Hanney the Latin and Spanish teacher, as he sizes you up from his 5feet zero height, made taller by his Operatic tones and steel heels. You are different from your brothers. And so I was, much heavier and tank like on the rugby field, but with a flair for French as Mr Notzing our French teacher used to say, 20 word test every week for 4 years. Either your were a dullard or you breached 80% because of him and him alone.

You must never try and copy anybody else, you are not a reflection you are yourself and nobody else. My daughter has a friend who copies her all the time, they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but Single White Female is just creepy. So looking directly into camera, Stop IT, I stole that line from Donald, not Trump, O Mac Donald he has a farm just outside Birmingham, you can google it if you don’t believe me. Where I live there was a chicken farm 100 years ago.

Some people assume my daughters are the same, their posh English accents do sound the same to me and my wife and we cannot tell them apart a lot of the time, so God help the rest of you. I believe in the Sinatra way, clear enunciation, then everybody can understand. Don’t pressurise your kids with you brother does this or your sister does this. They are not stuck in a mirror with no way out, that’s Dr Who or a Fairy Tale. Let kids decide for themselves, obvious hide the Stella Artois, just in case the little bastards, sorry little angels, find it, and use it to wash their hair with, that really would ruin your Christmas.

A mirror is a thing of beauty, and not because you are looking at yourself naked flexing your muscles, then you put on your Victoria Secret lingerie. Ok, stop will all the men wearing women’s lingerie put it back in the knickers drawer, its your wife’s Christmas present, its not yours. Your Christmas lingerie is the Marks and Spencer lingerie in the drawer below. I added this paragraph for all the transvestite readers as I like to end with a smile.

To finish as I do have to visit Aldi, as I do every day, remember always look in the mirror when you change, but the greatest change is not what you see in the mirror but what you do in your life. Sadly Michael Jackson sung the song but never followed his own advice. So from this Michael, have a mirror in your life, its the advice you give yourself, or you’ll be like the Emperor and his New Clothes, no matter how often you look in the mirror you’ll always be naked.    

Marking Your Own Report Card post 900

Marking Your Own Report Card ©
By Michael Casey

Well its that time of year again when we look back on our Year and think how we did, were we good or were we bad, will Santa come to our house or will he pass over us. I know already that Santa won’t come to our house, we have central heating so there is no chimney for him to come down, the Water Babies never came to clean it out, you can google Water Babies if you don’t know the Literary reference, see I’m giving you pub quiz information already, 2017 will be your best ever year for pub quizes.

So how will you mark your own year end report, will you give yourself all tens or 10s if you are a Bo Derek fan, see a film reference thrown in for good measure. I'll shut up now with the explanations, it spoils it for you. So are you honest in your own 360 degree appraisal, and can somebody tell me where the little degree symbol is on the keyboard. Do you mark yourself honestly or even harshly, or do you cheat? Some students reply, how do you expect us to pass if we don’t cheat. Some teachers tease, just make sure you sit close to a clever person.

But I’m talking about self-appraisal, were you good to your mum and dad, did you beat your kids, did you spoil your kids. Do you put your kids first even though they were/are and will forever be ungrateful bastards. STOP. Just think about that. Are you as good as your own parents, is the last generation always better than the current. Just a few thoughts for you, when Big Ben strikes and 2017 arrives perhaps you will be thinking these thoughts.

Do wish you were bolder and followed that girl into the paper store room, I could tell you tales about one of my old companies, but that’s another story, I am just the writer not the priest hearing confessions. Do you wish you stood up to that lazy idle boss, you were doing everything and they were hiding in the store room, alone no girl or boy included. You should have got the recognition, but you said nothing, you had to protect your job as you were the main breadwinner in your household, so you bit your lip when you should have bust his lip, and maybe had your own moment of glory in that store room, luckily there were no security cameras in there. But if they were one or two people could have become film stars, but not the kind of films shown at cinemas.

Did you give a penny to a beggar in the street, even just to impress that girl you loved, or did you brush the beggar out of the way, you had feet of clay. Your romance ended that day, but that day you vowed to change a modern Ebenezer Scrooge in the making, you swore never to lose another girl that way. However fate is cruel, you had lost that girl  good and proper, it was as if a sign about you said MISER, now no girl wanted you ever and that one was the prettiest girlfriend you ever had.

So you marked yourself down on your report card, you were stuck in your own personal Groundhog Day. But you were good to beggars forever more, and they all echoed God Bless to the sound of your footsteps, but still no girl appeared on the horizon. Over the road from Aldi was a opticians and every day for a year a girl in designer specs watched and smiled as you furtively gave alms to the beggars. Without knowing it she was loving you more and more, she was an optician and she had her eyes, her 4 eyes on you.

So one day you had just given a packet of chocolate biscuits to a beggar when May ran across the road, I’ve had my eye on you she said, then she just grabbed you and kissed you in the street. Her horoscope had said be decisive so she was, 5 minutes later she dropped you on the pavement, she was a black belt in Judo martial arts so when she grabbed a man they stayed grabbed.  Consider yourself to be my boyfriend she said, as she flicked her red hair back into place, or do you want me to break both your arms?

So for a finish what we do in secret can be the very thing that  brings the greatest results,  if you give biscuits to beggars you may find yourself a Judo black belt for a girlfriend, and free glasses thrown into the bargain. Because God sees everything and rewards us.




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Outside First

Monday, 19 December 2016

Outside First

Outside First ©

By Michael Casey

We’ve all seen that great cartoon Inside Out, they do in fact use it in the classroom at school to teach psychology, my daughter just an A* that’s 90% plus in her mocks, which is expensive as I give her a tenner for every A*, if only she were stupid then I’d be richer.

I’m not talking about psychology today, though indirectly I am, I will be talking about house hunting instead. The first thing when you are looking for a house is to look for the NEGATIVES, my brother told me that a very long time ago. It’s easy to fool yourself and end up buying a rubbish house that leaks. So think NEGATIVE.

Today I had a look at house that had possibilities, they all have possibilities don’t they. I had a wander around the roads where the house was, checking for level of litter and dodgy people, not to mention the level of shoddy parking. If an area looks like a tip it won’t suddenly get nice if you deign to live there. If there is a prostitute chewing gum by the bus stop, or men angrily screaming in the street then it may be wise to cross that area and that house off your list.

If you have a chip shop as neighbour, that may be nice but when the potato lorry delivers your parking space may be blocked, and do you really love the smell of frying chips all day everyday, not to mention a posy of pussies trying to break into the dustbins to get at the fish.

These are basic things that you investigate before you look inside a house. Is there a school nearby, that may be handy if you have school age kids, but nasty parents blocking the entire street while they pick up their beautiful children, noise and mayhem twice a day, and if you are a shift worker who needs his sleep.

And what if the kids are visiting that chip shop at dinner time too. Or what if Brenda the sexist prostitute in the area lives about the chip shop. Cries of passion while she batters her client above while the fish are being battered below in the chip shop. Local colour maybe, all right in Islington in yet another photocopied Hugh Grant film, but in real life?

So don’t drive to the house and look and buy without walking around the area. You may be spending the rest of your life there, so make sure you want battered fish from the chip shop and even from Brenda above the chip shop, but also make sure you don’t get battered, assaulted and battered by local criminals.

I know lots of busy Yuppies never walk anywhere but this fat writer of one million words DOES walk everywhere, so be observant, as observant as you are with whatever belief you have, be careful don’t buy rubbish, a wife or girlfriend may be easy to change, but a house is a much more difficult proposition, and propositions you’ll get in plenty if you end up living next door  to a chip shop with a battering prostitute living above it.

Now that I’ve taught you all the pitfalls I hope you realise that shoe leather is the most important part of house hunting. Look at the pretty picture of the house on www.rightmove.co.uk then immediately check the map, you need to know where you will be living. Then check google earth and satellite view, walk around your new neighbourhood, and see what you can see. If you are afraid of the Dead then don’t buy a house by your ever so quiet neighbours, if everything seems ok then look at the pictures of the interior of the house.

Then if that seems ok go and look at the outside and check the neighbourhood out, there may be a right of way, a path outside that leads to a Scientology meeting hall, so you have 1000s of them walking by your house. If you are a Tom Cruise fan that may be interesting, but otherwise it may not be your cup of tea, or you may love Dune.

So now I’ll finish, I hope you all realise God is good, but house hunting is the work of the Devil as it drives you mad and ruins relationships, so you may decide go back home and live above the Chinese takeaway with the girl of your dreams. Rather like me and my Shanghai surprise, my egg fried rice, and me her Panzi.  

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Taxi Drivers

Taxi Drivers ©

By

Michael Casey

It’s the Sunday before Christmas, so that’s 18Dec2016 if you are keeping track, I was thinking about what to talk about today when I noticed a Toyota Avensis taxi outside, they are built like a tank and are so great for taxis. I did want my wife to buy one a few years ago when we changed our car but she insisted she was not a taxi driver. So she got something prettier instead.

So what can I say about taxis and taxi drivers? Well I did have a taxi home from work every night for a year, and I did run the taxis for 3 years when I worked at the hotel. So I think that gives me some experience, I don’t remember seeing the film Taxi driver with De Nero though I did enjoy the comedy Taxi with Danny de Vito.

So what can I say about taxi drivers, they are very sensitive and shy and unassuming, who would not say boo to a goose. And if you believe that you’ll see pigs flying pulling that sleigh in a week’s time. Though my graveyard taxi tended to be quiet as it was 2.30 in the morning when I finished work, I used to have them pick me up but after a couple of weeks I decided to walk down the road to the taxi office, then I had to wake them up so they could take me home.

If you don’t drive and don’t even have a car then a taxi is like a luxury, a bit smelly, nearly 20 years ago smoking hadn’t been banned in taxis, by passengers or by drivers. The roads were quiet at nearly 3am, apart from huge trucks delivering to supermarkets, we did nearly get totalled a couple of times by a supermarket lorry on a narrow stretch of the road. Iced by an Iceland truck, at least our bodies would have been preserved.

Getting home at 3am meant you could never sleep straight away so you have to unwind and have a drink and a snack before going to bed at 4am. I went to bed at 4am for a year, just like Sinatra no doubt. When I left that job, my wife was pregnant, it took me 3 months to deprogram my body to sleep before 4am. Though if any of you are hoping for a family 3am to 4am might be worth a try.

It cost a lot of money having a taxi for a year, lucky on the Friday I tended to get a lift from one of the crew at SMBC. I moved on and it was at CPNEC Birmingham that I ran the taxis. We had a great restaurant, then it was Brian Turners, but still the guests wanted to try other things, so I’d arrange the taxis as well as local food options. All I’ll say is that you have to be quick, very quick to keep the flow going, keeping the customer happy. If a guest wanted another pint  then I’d try and move up the taxis so my drivers didn’t have to wait 30 mins. You have to mix and match guests and drivers.

And yes I was very good at all this, the drivers were very sad when I left because I looked after them. If I looked after them, then they looked after the guests, so it was a win win situation, common sense really. In hotels the evening rush is something which has to be seen to be believed, there is a buzz you get, but you thank God when it is over.

You really do have to peel off your uniform and make the dash through the NEC to the train station, then the bus, then the walk home. I did this for 3 years, but if you have 2 toddlers you do what you have to do, standing up for 12 hours a day makes your legs strong, is that the irony, that’s why I had good veins for my quadruple  heart bypass 10 years later.

Another irony that I’ve just remember, Michael is the name of the old taxi driver in The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker and it is he that leads the charge to save the life of an Indian corner shop’s daughter. You have to read the book for yourself. So circles in my mind lead to circles in my life. We had a neighbour called Mr Mann who was bigger than Jabba the Hutt who drove an old Humber taxi, when our lodger was drunk and fell and burnt himself on a gas cooking plate it was Mr Mann who drove my dad and a screaming Barney Rooney to the hospital.

Of course as it was Christmas Mr Mann was plastered and drunk himself, he had not expected to be an ambulance after all. But he did get Barney to the hospital, Barney lived another 40 years and drank and smoked like a trooper, and died the day after his 83^rd Birthday after my dad and sister gave him a Birthday card in hospital. Mr Mann did offer to drive dad home, he lived 3 doors away, but dad decided to walk home, I seem to remember him once telling us that they were nearly totalled as they steamed down the main road, they were steamed up, or drunk after all.

So I’ll finish for now I have to go to Aldi, no alcohol required, 12 pints a year is about my limit, if you grow up with alcoholic lodgers you see what a waste it is. Which brings us full circle, my regular driver died, alcohol was to blame.