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Wear and Tear ©
By
Michael Casey
Its 2nd August we’ve had a heat wave here in Birmingham and the rest of UK. So folks have being going around in their Summer gear, sandals and shorts for men and women alike. Acres of flesh exposed, and lots of it you’d wish WAS covered up.
The thing about Summer is that as people try to look their best, the wear and tear on their bodies is exposed. The grey hairs announced to the world with shirts unbuttoned, 3 or even 4 buttons undone to feel the breeze on a hot Summer’s day. Silly sunglasses are everywhere, fake Ray-Bans multiplying in the sun.
Mum’s embarrassing their children as they wear sarongs in Aldi, it may be ok for Beckham, but why does mum have to show us up. Varicose veins on display, it’s too hot for tights, mum’s legs look like a map of rivers.
Grandpa is outside sitting on a bench, he hasn’t got the energy to walk around Aldi. He sits enjoying an ice cream, really loving it, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his toes sticking out of hippy style sandals . He is wearing belt and braces, half his shirt in and half his shirt out. He belches and farts as he finishes his ice cream. He shuffles up on the bench and tells you to sit beside him. You love him so you do, but making sure you hold your breath. Then he takes out his false teeth to suck them clean, before taking out a used hanky to wipe the sweat on his bald patch.
Children pretending to be girls pretending to be women strut past. Badly applied make-up smudged as they smoke a cigarette as they talk loudly about what they did with their boyfriend last night.
Traffic wardens sweat as they prowl about looking for victims, everybody is united in their hatred of traffic wardens. Summer, Winter or Fall as the Americans say, nobody loves a traffic warden.
People glow in the sun, too much sun worshipping, and not enough sun cream. Kids moan, why can’t they have some more sweets, “do you think, I’m made of money” snaps and slaps mums as they push a buggy loaded with shopping. Children sulk and curse under their breath, “wait till I get you home” threaten mums.
So a normal Summer’s day here in Birmingham and probably anyplace anywhere. So much wear and tear of mind and spirit. A house can be repainted, a new gutter here, a garden weeded there. It’s relatively easy, if you have a few quid to buy paint and a few odds and ends. Then your kids draw everywhere with chalk on the patio or should I say yard, and then kids chalk the walls too.
What about wear and tear on the soul? How can you erase that? Well you can start by being quiet, barricade the house so the kids cannot get in your room. Put your Barry Manilow on, other music is available too. Then lie on your bed and dream, dream what it would be like NOT to have kids or grandpa sitting in the street sucking his false teeth. Dream that you don’t have varicose veins, dream that your husband is 4 stones lighter.
Yes dreaming does take the edge off wear and tear of the spirit. I would say pray too, but in England I bet most people only pray when the lottery is being drawn. But if you play Barry Manilow loud enough you can imagine you are on the Copa Cabana.
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Published August 02, 2013

 

Wear and Tear ©

By

Michael Casey

 

Its 2nd August we’ve had a heat wave here in Birmingham and the rest of UK. So folks have being going around in  their Summer gear, sandals and shorts for men and women alike. Acres of flesh exposed, and lots of it you’d wish WAS covered up.

The thing about Summer is that as people try to look their best, the wear and tear on their bodies is exposed. The grey hairs announced to the world with shirts unbuttoned, 3 or even 4 buttons undone to feel the breeze on a hot Summer’s day. Silly sunglasses are everywhere, fake Ray-Bans multiplying in the sun.

Mum’s embarrassing their children as they wear sarongs in Aldi, it may be ok for Beckham, but why does mum have to show us up. Varicose veins on display, it’s too hot for tights, mum’s legs look like a map of rivers.

Grandpa is outside sitting on a bench, he hasn’t got the energy to walk around Aldi. He sits enjoying an ice cream, really loving it, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his toes sticking out of hippy style sandals . He is wearing belt and braces, half his shirt in and half his shirt out. He belches and farts as he finishes his ice cream. He shuffles up on the bench and tells you to sit beside him. You love him so you do, but making sure you hold your breath. Then he takes out his false teeth to suck them clean, before taking out a used hanky to wipe the sweat on his bald patch.

Children pretending to be girls pretending to be women strut past. Badly applied make-up smudged as they smoke a cigarette as they talk loudly about what they did with their boyfriend last night.

Traffic wardens sweat as they prowl about looking for victims, everybody is united in their hatred of traffic wardens. Summer, Winter or Fall as the Americans say, nobody loves a traffic warden.

People glow in the sun, too much sun worshipping, and not enough sun cream. Kids moan, why can’t they have some more sweets, “do you think, I’m made of money” snaps and slaps mums as they push a buggy loaded with shopping. Children sulk and curse under their breath, “wait till I get you home” threaten mums.

So a normal Summer’s day here in Birmingham and probably anyplace anywhere. So much wear and tear of mind and spirit. A house can be repainted, a new gutter here, a garden weeded there. It’s relatively easy, if you have a few quid to buy paint and a few odds and ends. Then your kids draw everywhere with chalk on the patio or should I say yard, and then kids chalk the walls too.

What about wear and tear on the soul? How can you erase that? Well you can start by being quiet, barricade the house so the kids cannot get in your room. Put your Barry Manilow on, other music is available too. Then lie on your bed and dream, dream what it would be like NOT to have kids or grandpa sitting in the street sucking his false teeth. Dream that you don’t have varicose veins, dream that your husband is 4 stones lighter.

Yes dreaming does take the edge off wear and tear of the spirit. I would say pray too, but in England I bet most people only pray when the lottery is being drawn. But if you play Barry Manilow loud enough you can  imagine you are on the Copa Cabana.

 

 

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