So it's all change again. I'm not coming back to Derby, and I'm not unemployed! BOOM.
For the last week, I have been working as the Kitchen Porter at the Cathedral Restaurant. I seriously and wholeheartedly believe that this is not a job designed for one person; more that it is a sore test for those who do not know what hard work is. Over this week I have earned some two hundred pounds, and have work lined up for the whole of the summer. Over the course of the Vac, I'll need to vacate my house for some ten days only but that's about it.
Here are some things that I have learned this week:
! - The Dishwasher truly is my mortal enemy.
" - The Squares of Ashoni was the best training for plate stacking.
£ - Full trays from tables dumped on the deck are the bane of everything.
$ - The smell of Carrot and Coriander soup makes me want to brech.
% - If you don't ask for a break you'll never get one, regardless of the legality.
^ - Once the cutlery goes through the machine is is literally HOTTER THAN THE SUN.
& - Having a mostly Guinness and Jager based hangover will not help.
? - The sight of the pass closing can cheer the lowest of hearts.
Monday was insane. Like, actually mental. I've been burnt less in baptisms of fire already! (Actually I never truly got burnt, but did scald myself with the ROASTING HOT CUTLERY). Interestingly enough, as allergic as I am to hard work... I haven't been put off totally. I always used to (and continue) to say that once I'm done with all this music rubbish, I'll train as a chef. Where does every one start? At the Porter's station.
It's not great, by any stretch of the imagination, but not awful. There is still a sense of achievement even when all the tables get cleared at once and all the plates ever appear in your immediate vicinity. I only dropped one plate all week, but sadly also knocked the handle off a teapot. Sad times.
Tuesday was just as bad, but I arguably got a bit more help. On Wednesday I decided that the only way to keep the pot wash room sane was to put away dry stuff myself, which once again considerably sped the process up. Thursday was slightly marred by the addition of midnight prosecco to celebrate Mr. Barrett's 19th birthday, but still remarkably busy. The soup was very popular. Not so much Carrot and Coriander but Carrot and Crack Cocaine.
Friday was definitely the quietest. I even managed to get a whole 15 minutes off where I conversed with my disasterously hungover housemate and bought lunch from the Co-op, rob dogs that they are. Anyway, even with a whole quarter of an hour off, I managed to get almost everything finished in time for 4pm! How exciting!
However. Working 9:30 til 4 every day has left me drained and somewhat irritable, and in bad shape for evensong. Granted this won't be a problem from next week onwards, what with this Sunday being the last services of the year, but seeing as these were some pretty hardcore services (Monday Howell's St. Paul's, Tuesday Langlais Messe Solennelle, Wednesday Leighton 2nd Service and Friday Tallis Lamentations), I can;t help but feel like I let the side down a bit by just being so tired. Granted, I wasn't falling asleep at the end of the Nunc Dimittis like I was when I worked at Truro School, but there we go...
The long Vac stretches out before me. I have a month of employment ahead of me before I even consider August. But there will be rest for the wicked at some point, and it's my girlfriend's birthday at the end of this month, which I have been preparing for at least a month now. I had to make sure everything would work out if I wasn't staying in Cornwall, see, but now I am I have some extra wiggle room, as it were. All I'm really going to say about her now is that things are so much different than ever, and I don't ever need to panic any more. Oh. And she's marvellous. And short.* But that's enough for now.
Now, presumably I'm going to do some laundry or wash up in the kitchen now, I suppose.
*This fact included at her request.
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