“They said I need to stay here for a year. Can you believe it’s been 9 months already. Another three and I’ll be going back to the UK” If Abdul knew what was in store for him, he wouldn’t have been looking so forward to going back to the UK.

“Why did they send you here for a year? That’s a bit random isn’t it?” I just didn’t, and still to this day don’t, understand why truant youngsters are sent ‘back home’ to live with a random uncle for a year.

“They said it’ll get me off drugs and all that innit. I started doing lines and stuff. Hanging with Raf and his boys bruv. They do a lot harder stuff than me. They proper G’s cuzzy”

“Don’t worry Usman, I’ll drop you off.” I said. I didn’t fancy going straight home anyway. It was an overcast day and I knew I’ll be stuck indoors all day and it was only 1.30 in the afternoon.

“You sure bro, it’s out of the way for you isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. So if I drop you off you owe me. Lunch tomorrow?” I joked as we walked to my rusty Vectra.

“You really need a new car bro, if I didn’t have to be home I’d rather walk than get a lift from you. Your car is just embarrassing.”

“You have a nice way of showing your appreciation. Just get in...!!”

We spoke about many things on the 10 minute drive to Usman’s house. We spoke about dragons, cars, jobs, Luke, houses and glab jams.

They were all crammed into the small kitchen. All four of them. Deciding what to eat.

“Should we have fish and chips?” asked Sannah, the youngest member of the family.

“Or should we eat out” suggested Adam. Their other child.

“We ate out last week, can’t be eating out every weekend, we just don’t have that kind of money at the moment – tough economic times and all that…” Typical dad!!

“Let’s just make fish and chips. We all like it and it’s cheap enough and it’s what we would have got if we went out anyway.” Ah – how the mother has an amazing ability to keep everyone happy. Gotta love her….

What to do on a lovely sunny day like today? I thought aloud.

“Oh, I know. Let’s have a water fight.” Suggested my 9 year old son.

“You did say we’ll have a water fight on the weekend” added my 6 year old daughter.

So – they’re acting their age, maybe I should act mine. “OK I said. You guys get the water guns and I’ll hook up the hose pipe.”

“Oi, that’s cheating.” Pointed out my wife.

“I’m not going to hose the kids down, I thought since we’ll be playing with water, I’d might as well get the cars cleaned at the same time”

“Hmmm… Good idea” Agreed my wife.

"Paul, you know we've not been out for a department piss-up since Terry left two months ago"

"OMG Steve, you're right. Has it been two months already?"

"Sure has, we should organise another one soon. I suggest going to the Airport Hotel. They have a really good Beer Garden there" Steve suggested.

"Lets make that in the afternoon" Andy couldn't contain the excitement at the prospect of another department piss-up "then we could go a pub crawl round the city  after dark and be a little worse for wear all weekend."

"I guess we should invite HR and Sales as well?" Steve didn't really like big groups. When theres big groups, no one gets a round in and you end up drinking less.

Before you criticise someone, you should walk at lease one mile in their shoes.
That way, when you criticise them, you are a mile away and have a free pair of shoes.

Salams All,

I have a few questions:

Are the blogs too frequent?

Do you get the feeling of "oh not again mate"?

Have you got something positive out of them?

Have they wasted time in your life; time that you'll nerver get back?

Are they boring? (do you read them when you can't get to sleep so that you CAN get to sleep?)

If you have any feedback about my blogging please send me a private message.

This could be positive or negative feedback. Please don't be rude, but at the same time please DO be honest. I like constructive criticism.

Thanks you.

Though provoking short film:

">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cbk980jV7Ao]

One day, while trying to eke out a living for his family the poor Scottish farmer heard a cry for help coming from a nearby bog. He dropped his tools and ran to the bog. There, mired to his waist in black mulch, was a terrified boy, screaming and struggling to free himself. The farmer saved the lad from what could have been a slow and terrifying death.

The next day, a fancy carriage pulled up to the Scotsman's sparse surroundings. An elegantly dressed nobleman stepped out and introduced himself as the father of the boy the farmer had saved. "I want to repay you," said the nobleman. "You saved my son's life."

"Mum, why do you always give me over cooked fish fingers? I like Fish Fingers a lot, but I don't really like the taste of the almost burned ones."

"Well, Sunnah, when I was a little girl you Grandad didn't know how to cook and used to grill fish fingers for me when ever my mum (may god rest her soul) wasn't home. And I used to love the crunchy ones, but he always used to take them from my plate. I really hated that, but didn't want to say anything as we lived in a different time. We never questioned what the elders done, we just had to accept it."

"He made me some Fish Fingers the other day and I put the over cooked ones in my plate because that's what you always give me, and you know what he said to me?"