100th blog post!

8553 views (my own views don't count as I have the "don't track my own page views" permanently marked), 46 comments and 14 followers.

I started this blog on the 12th of September 2010 and so after three years and eight months of writing, moaning, bitching and even some philosophical and emotional posting, this is my hundredth blog post!

The one that has had the most views is this:-

http://muksblogaboutstuff.blogspot.co.uk/2013/02/underage-girls-should-not-dress-like.html

The one with the least views is...well this one as I haven't posted it yet. But from one that I have posted not (including my last one as it hasn't been that long) it is this one:-

http://muksblogaboutstuff.blogspot.co.uk/2011/07/succeed-or-fail.html

With all the crazy thoughts I have in my head, I am amazed that it has taken me all this time to get to one hundred. I'm also amazed that I only have fourteen followers! Is that all!?!? Ha ha. And only forty six comments?? I intentionally don't reply to comments because if my blog ever became a worldwide phenomenon, I may end up getting thousands of comments and would struggle to reply to them all. I could of course hire a pretty assistant to reply to them for me but it wouldn't be the same if it wasn't from me. Not personal enough you see.

Anyway, for this landmark moment I am going to put my top five favourite blog posts. It was weird looking back and reading some of the things that I had wrote. And I also realised that I am not that great a writer! I don't think I am anyway.

So without further ado, here is my top five in reverse order. I will add a link and write a bit about them:-

It's depressing. It's sad. It's a goodbye:-

http://muksblogaboutstuff.blogspot.co.uk/2013/05/goodbye-dad.html

Then comes this. It was amazing that I actually got a reply. Not so amazing that I didn't get the job:-

http://muksblogaboutstuff.blogspot.co.uk/2014/04/job-application-for-manchester-united.html

In third place a short and sweet one. It was so strange writing this as I felt that I was completely and utterly lost. But writing this actually made me feel a bit better:-

http://muksblogaboutstuff.blogspot.co.uk/2011/09/burning-pages.html

In second place is this one. I think the amazing comment I received from someone I didn't and most probably will never know helped push this post up:-

http://muksblogaboutstuff.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/identity-crisis.html

This is my favourite blog post that I have written. I did so much research and enjoyed the fascinating things that I found out:-

http://muksblogaboutstuff.blogspot.co.uk/2012/01/time-travel.html

And that's it!

Thank you to all my readers and thank you to all of you that commented.

I will see you at 200.

Frogs on a lily pad.

I've never heard this story before for whatever reason, even though it is very popular. I should share it as I thought it was pretty awesome. This is word for word what someone messaged me years ago. (I didn't read the message until today).

Two frogs are sitting on a lily pad. One of them decided to jump in a pond.

How many frogs are still on the lily pad??

TWO!!

One of the frogs "decided" to jump, but he never actually jumped!

The moral of this story is you need to TAKE ACTION!! Do something and do it today! The longer you wait, the more miserable your life will become. The sooner you act, the sooner you can start the long, hard journey to putting your life back together. Things WILL get better! You just have to take that first step!

My reply from Manchester United football club.

"Hi, 

Thank you for your recent email regarding the role of First Team Manager at Manchester United.

This role is currently being recruited and the board will be in contact with suitable candidates. 

We would like to thank you once again for sending in your application and thinking of Manchester United.

Kind Regards

Group Human Resources"



I tried.

Short and sweet. Notice the "Hi". I write an amazing professional email and I get a "Hi". 

They don't know what they missed out on.

Job application for Manchester United football club.

To whomever this may concern.

I am writing to you in regards to the current vacancy for the position of Manager of Manchester United football club. I wish to apply for this vacancy.

I have previous management experience, mostly in retail, bars and hospitality and I know what it takes to get the best out of my staff-something that the last manager seemed to have no idea about.

I have been a lifelong Manchester United fan and have followed this great club through thick and thin and feel that I have what it takes to manage this club. I know for a fact that I will not be as bad as the last manager and feel that I would definitely secure champions league football for the season after next. I am also confident that in my first season in charge, I could at least win one trophy-something the last manager has never achieved in all his days as a manager.

As well as all this, I would not waste ridiculous amounts of money on players who are not worthy to wear the Manchester United shirt-for example Marouane Fellaini.

Nor will I be held to ransom by players who get too demanding, want to play every single game and never want to be substituted and then have utterly disgraceful games-for example Wayne Rooney.

Also along with this, I will personally make sure that transfer deals are fully complete and not be turned into a total embarrassment.

I am passionate, fair and have great tactical awareness. I will do what is best for the squad. I will play the team I pick in a positive way-the way Manchester United should play. With excitement, personality and with penetration. All traits that the last manager had none of.

I am also willing to be paid one percent of what the last manager was on.

Yes that is right. One percent.

And I am guaranteeing silverware and champions league football.

I realise this season has been a tough one for players, staff and fans alike and I feel that I would be a a suitable candidate to bring back the glory days to Old Trafford and to leave a legacy that football has not even seen yet.

I understand that MR Ryan Giggs is to be taking over for the rest of the season. I would like to wish him best of luck. I hope you will consider me for the start of next season.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I hope you will be in contact with me soon.

Mukesh Dhimar.

I can't afford to buy things from charity shops!

These days (I sound 100 years old now don't I?) it is so easy for some kind of trend to start. Mostly it stems from some online buzz. For example right at the minute, it seems to be some drinking game that people are dying from and before that some weird game you can get on phones. Whoopee. Something for the masses to talk about. Something for them to feel like they are with the "in crowd".

Something utterly pointless.

I thought one trend that would have stopped which hasn't, is people buying things from charity shops. Not that there is anything wrong whatsoever in buying things from charity shops. But the problem is a few years ago when a few world famous couples went into charity shops to donate some of their clothes, there seemed to be a massive surge of people who were all of a sudden "doing their bit" by purchasing things from charity shops because it's "all for a good cause" and because "you can find some amazing bargains" and also because some people may be hopeful that they could actually own some celebrities' garment to wear, smell or do whatever they felt necessary in order to...feel closer to them.

There used to be a time when you could go into a charity shop and pick up bargains. You would of course get what you paid for. A ragged hat for 50p, a torn up bow-tie for 25p or a book with half the pages ripped for 10p.

Now charity shops aren't even charity shops. Everything is so expensive! A hat I saw for £27, a tie for £14 and books are behind displayed glass cases for prices that I didn't even want to look twice at.

I saw a dress in the window which was £450. Four hundred and fifty pounds! What the hell??

They have volunteers but managers get paid a full-time wage so they have to make vast amounts of profit and the volunteers get free tickets for festivals and the theatre and whatever else they may be interested in and fuck me isn't it COOL to volunteer in a charity shop.

For customers, buying from these shops is FASHIONABLE. It's FASHIONABLE to pay for overpriced goods, it's FASHIONABLE to tell your friends "I bought this from a charity shop, HOW FUCKING FASHIONABLE AM I and also VINTAGE. Oh I am so VINTAGE."

Gone are the days of the actual humble charity shop where decent people used to go in as they simply couldn't afford to buy clothes, books or whatever else from the, simply because they hardly had any money and couldn't afford to go into normal stores.

There are two Oxfam stores on Oldham Street in Manchester. One is called Oxfam essentials and there is nothing "essential" in the shop whatsoever. The other is called Oxfam EMPORIUM. It should just be called "EMPORIUM" without the Oxfam.

The sad thing about the whole situation is the delusion it creates for people who think they doing something awesome and hip by buying stupidly overpriced bollocks in these shops when there are people out there with no clothes and no means to buy any. These charity shops should be for them so the little money that they may come across, they can maybe buy some much needed clothing to help live.

Instead the rich posh idiots are now going in INSTEAD of it being a win-win situation where people can get rid of any items they may not want so poorer people can get something that they need with the money going to charity-not to "managers" of the shops.

There have also been cases of clothing being found cheaper in normal department stores and more expensive in these "charity" shops. Do some staff buy clothes from these department stores and then sell them on for a profit that they can pocket?

It's just another blow for the poorer people in this world. It doesn't surprise me that people turn to stealing if they can't afford to buy anything from what is supposed to be something that was created for them.

A piece of writing that I am proud of.

An email to my mothers' solicitor.

For some reason I felt it appropriate to put on here.  

Why the fuck not? Here it is:-

Hello. No need for me to tell you who this is as you can probably tell from my name. I can imagine the name "Dhimar" turns the pupils in your eyes into pound signs. 

First of all, I would like to make a request in that you don't go to mandirs (temples) and broadcast about you "winning the case". I can't believe a place of worship even has solicitors coming in for speeches in the first place. That is sickening in itself. What is more sickening is how you told everyone there about this case. Even though you didn't mention any names, the Indian community is fairly small and close knit. Everyone knows each other and can put two and two together. I really don't want to go onto the street and have another person come up to me asking about my fathers' money and what happened to it and why you were involved. 

As I wasn't at the temple when you said this, I am unsure as to whether you were bragging/showing off about it or whether you were just being really unprofessional and quite frankly, idiotic to mention your confidential dealings. 

It is either one of the two. Either way, you should not be talking about confidential matters in public like that. Or it could be that there is some part of you that actually enjoyed being a part of something as horrific as this.

Secondly, not that it means anything to you but I miss my dad. So does my sister. Personally for myself, I have had trouble eating when I am at "home" for the past six months. I am fine when I am outdoors or at a friends but when I am at home, I just cannot eat. I have always had trouble sleeping (since I was 16 years old or so) and now eating too. I had to go to the Doctors' three times as it was really affecting my health. I was crying in my sleep and then I developed breathing problems. 

And then my mother went to you to get the hands on the money my dad wanted me and my sister to have. 

Obviously it is your job to help my mother. I understand that. You have to earn a living even if it is going against a dead mans' wishes. You have to feed your own kids etc. 

My dad didn't want my mum having any of this money. Originally me and my sister were going to share it with her anyway as we both know how much money means to her.

For about nine months or so I have been out of work and I moved back home. It has not been easy at all for various reasons. I am used to working and most of my working life I worked two jobs. There was a time when I was working in four places at once and there were days when I would wake up and forget which job I was supposed to be that. Luckily I am temping at the minute.

Contrary to what my mum may have told you, my dad paid the bills. My dads' name was on ALL the bills. Every single one of them. Whilst I was working, I used to give my dad some money. OF COURSE I used to do this. My dad really hated taking money from me and he would very reluctantly accept. It is only right as much as he thought it was wrong. When I was out of work, he flat out refused to take anything from me and I accepted this as it was more difficult for me to do this with hardly any income. 

After my dad passed away, it was obviously the worst thing to ever have happened. I'm not sure if you have had a parent that has passed away so I can't say if you know what it is like. I'm not sure if either of your parents are like my mother either. Everything was so surreal as it still is. My sister was coming over a lot and me her and my mum were together a lot of the times. Anything that occurred in the past had been forgotten. I will get to what I mean by that later. 

Even though I didn't have a job, I was paying for the phone, TV and internet bills (all in one with Virgin Media). Ironically I hardly EVER use the phone and I hardly EVER watch the TV. One day whilst I was out, she told my sister to come round and to put it back in her name. I never understood why she did this until I realised that it obviously made it look like she was paying for everything and that would help YOU get her the money that was entitled to me and my sister. Maybe you are even that intelligent to have told her to do this. Maybe.

About 2 months before my dad passed away, my mum asked my dad about the death in service. She told him that she didn't want him to have it. My dad said he didn't have it. The reason he told her this was because he didn't want my mum to have ANY of it. He already knew that my mum was absolutely loaded (six bank accounts) and that if any money was to be left, it would go to me and my sister and our future. My sister has a mortgage to pay and I have struggled the past year or so. I don't eat much at home anymore but I do buy my own food. I contributed to the bills. You of course wouldn't want this to be true as it would make it easier for you to claim the money in saying that I didn't help with the bills. 

But as I stated, my dad wanted me and my sister to have it and NOT my mum. You have gone against a dead mans' wishes. But as I have said, you are doing your job and I want to clarify as much as you might tell yourself different, I want to clarify that this isn't about the money. I repeat, this is NOT about the money. To YOU and to my mum it is. NOTHING or NO AMOUNT OF MONEY can bring my dad back. You and my mother clearly care more about the money than about my dad. Fair enough. 

But to me and my sister, it is about our dads' last wish. If he wanted it to go to mum, I would have accepted it and me nor my sister wouldn't have even dreamed of doing something as sick as getting a solicitor to claim something that isn't ours from a family member! Hence neither of us appealed against the decision. We wouldn't stoop to that level. It is unthinkable to me.

I have spoken to my mum once since. I told her to leave me alone as I found it hard and still do to speak to her. My sister doesn't speak to her at all as she is as horrified as I am. 

Now you may be thinking why on Earth my dad wouldn't want any money going to my mum. 

As I said, she is already loaded. After he passed away, she bought a new carpet, new sofas and is getting a new car and this is BEFORE the Death in Service even came to light. She had everything from his bank account (with most of the funeral costs being refunded).

But along with that, my mum used to call my dad a "bastard" a "dog" and all sorts of names whilst they were married. She has and always calls me them too. She has always opened my mail when the post arrives. She used to do it too my sisters' mail too which was one of the many reasons why she moved out. I'm sure you already know (being a high flying solicitor) that it is in fact illegal to open anyone elses' mail. One of my letters was an urgent hospital appointment. An urgent PRIVATE hospital appointment which she opened and hid away from me. The actual main reason my sister moved out was that she was bullied by our mum.

I am guessing that Park Cake Bakeries didn't ask my dad to update his Death in Service. Or he might have said to just leave it as it is as he didn't realise that you have to update it even if you are wanting to keep the same person(s) on it. So maybe this was used by yourself to get it. Park cakes obviously have to look out for themselves hence maybe they crumbled. Again- Maybe.

I know this doesn't matter to you and you might even think that this is funny. My mum slams doors and throws things around the room. This can affect a person ESPECIALLY in the long term so can you imagine how my dad was like having to live with this the majority of his life. He was bullied as am I and as was my sister. Having what was rightfully entitled to me would have given me the chance for a deposit. I could have gotten away from this.

About 2 and a half years before my dad passed away, he had to have an operation on his heart. He got through this but as his diet wasn't always healthy, I knew something bad was going to happen again soon as a lot of my uncles have been passing away recently (and before the pupils in your eyes turn into pound signs again, no, they have got all their finances sorted already). 

I kept repeatedly saying to my mum to go to India to see the relatives because he might not make it again if something else happens. She always used to say "Eee dog ne sathe kaun javanoo" meaning "who's going to go with that dog?" 

Do you speak like that to your husband or kids?

He used to go to the pub on Friday nights and then always rush back home before my mum got in from work as he wasn't allowed to enjoy his life. He used to get stressed out about how mum would act. This really worried me as I know she always got under his skin. She wouldn't pick him up from the pub as I requested EVEN THOUGH AFTER SHE FINISHED WORK AT 10PM, SHE WOULD DRIVE PAST IT. He used to rush home in a taxi.

She used to ask my dad- "When are you going to fucking die?" This was constant. 

Constantly fucking asking it. 

And he is dead now. Is she happy? Are you happy? 

In some ways, the only way to get away from an abusive person is Death. It is horrible to say I know but in some ways, maybe it was the best thing that could have happened to him as at the time of his Death, he had 18 months left before he retired and then what? Stay at home to be verbally and emotionally abused even more? I am sure and I cannot shake off the feeling that maybe my dad had this in mind before he did pass away. 

Why live a life of abuse when you can just...go away?

She called him a "dog" and a "Bastard" repeatedly since I was a child and probably way before I was born too. 

The mortgage on the house is paid off. My mum could sell the house and get a smaller one and have about £50,000 in the bank. 

She bought a new carpet, new sofas and is getting a new car. I am struggling to get a bus pass for work. 

As I said, I know you don't care and somebody like you who is in it PURELY to get money for herself so this whole email could just be pointless. You could just laugh it off. You could even go to the temple and start telling everybody about it and have a good laugh about it. Because you're clearly THAT professional.

Right?

I could write a lot more about the marriage, the bullying, the emotional abuse. Part of me is worried that you might go to the temple and tell everyone.

Personally for myself, I feel that my dads' ashes cannot be scattered right now. I do not know if there is a God out there. I do not know if there is an afterlife. I do not really know what I believe in but just in case that there is, there is no way that my father would ever rest in peace with all this taking place. With money being stolen from me and my sister. 

Thank you for reading this.

Mukesh.

Staring down the barrel of a gun

Unfortunately, this isn't a metaphor.

A few days ago I went to the bookmakers near my house to place some bets on the weekend football. I really enjoy doing a few bets here and there and then watching the scores and live goals on Sky Sports. Anyway, I went into the shop quite late knowing that it would be quiet and that I could focus on and study the football coupons. There was just me as a customer. Two cashiers. One of them was playing a demo on the machine so she was on the shop floor. This particular machine being right next to the counter. She was very big. The size of a small new born baby elephant. Though not as nice looking. The other cashier was about 200 years old.

It was about 8pm and it was very quiet apart from the awful American commentator on the races and the machine the elephant was playing. In come two people. Fully dressed in shell suits with masks and a strip across their eyes. You couldn't see their eye colour, their skin colour or the colour of their hair. Nothing.

Oh and they had guns.

"Everyone co-operate and nobody will get hurt."

This bookmakers is very small and everything happened really fast. To get to the counter they would have to go past me and I had completely frozen. They did go past me. Right past me and straight to the counter. The elephant started screaming for her work colleague who was behind the counter and who then proceeded to run into the back room locking herself in. I could still hear the elephant scream as I dashed out of the shop while the armed robbers had their backs to me.

My heart was thudding like crazy in my chest. I couldn't leave the pachyderm and the 200 year old there like that. I probably should have ran and got as far away as possible but as soon as I got out of the shop I turned the corner and called 999.

Before I even got through, the robbers had come out of the shop and had ran to the other side of the road that I was on and then they saw me and screamed at me to "drop the phone."

I've always been crazy stubborn. My whole life I have ALWAYS been crazy stubborn. I didn't drop the phone. At first.

I put the phone away from my ear and tried to put it on speaker phone so if anything had happened at least then it would be heard.

One of them pointed his gun at me and again screamed at me:-

"Drop the phone or we will fucking smoke you."

I'm not really educated on street talk but as he was still pointing his gun at me, I assumed 'smoke' meant 'shoot'. The other robber started running towards me. He wasn't pointing  his gun at me. He had it held down but he was coming at me really fast. So I slipped the phone in my pocket and put my hands up.

The other one who was pointing the gun at me then shouted for his accomplice to "let's go." And so they did. Running down the street and disappearing into the rainy night just as fast as they had appeared. I went straight for my phone again and walked the ten metres or so back towards the bookmakers whilst calling 999 again just as a car was pulling up and the shutter was coming down.

A guy came out of the car and asked me why the shutter was down. I asked him how he could have missed what just happened. He didn't understand what I was talking about. I told him and he said "Fuck that" and got in the car and disappeared into the rainy night just as fast as he had appeared. The shutter stared opening just as I got through to the police. I proceeded to tell them what happened and when I told them the address, they couldn't locate it on their computers. Then they realised that I had been put through to a police department 200 miles away. The 200 year old let me back into the bookmakers. The elephant was on the phone to the police so I just hung up. Nobody was hurt. Everybody was shaken up.

The police eventually came. Along with CID and CSI and whatever else. I think there were about 14 of them in total that came and went. One had a huge gun himself. I gave two statements. It took 3 hours. A couple of the questions I got asked were ridiculous. Questions like "what did the armed robbers do when you ran out of the shop?" How the hell could I answer that when I had ran out of the shop?? "What kind of guns did they have?" I know nothing about guns. Small. Pistols?? Ones that shoot bullets that could kill??

After what seemed like a long time, one of the police women said it was nice to meet me and said I cold go home and that they would be in touch. It was only when I was halfway home that I couldn't even believe that they didn't offer me a lift. Classic police I guess. A lot of things written down in notepads and not much use at all.

When I did get home I was shaking. But I have no idea why. It wasn't as if a gun was fired. I had a shower. Ate. Still shaking until I opened a big bottle of Tiger beer. It is amazing how beer can make things better. A few days later and I still feel a bit strange. The police had told me I would be feeling some post trauma shit for a few weeks and if that I ever wanted some counselling then to blah blah blah etc.

The bottom line is I am alive. Life is Life and Death is Death. Life is something and Death is nothing. A couple of people have said it is a new lease of life. But I really don't feel like that. Weirdly I don't really know what or how I feel.