As another ten and a half hour shift dawns I resume my usual position. Lurking in a small cupboard, peering from behind a curtain like the neighbourhood paedo. Wedged between a coffee machine and dishwasher that hate me; they constantly hiss, spit, and poke at me, like toddlers with boredom. I count down the 630 minutes I will spend with a smile varnished to my face.
So this is what I can offer you today, sat on an upturned ice bucket, in my finest uniform; an angry iron crease disguised under a yellowed apron. Just like my service…a simple no frills blog. Apologies to those of you who may miss my pictures, I will find some extra witty ones next time.
My thought today then turns to summer, making a triumphant return. Today it has charged into Chester all guns blazing, hidden under the Trojan Horse of bad weather that has plagued us this week. Warm rays bake down on my platinum blonde hair, and reveal dirty brassy tones of Ron Weasley. My hair cries dye me! My bank baalance cries no. A few more weeks and Ron can be replaced by Draco.
The benefit of this new burst of summer? Moods are lifted,and the bright light reveals perhaps my favourite part…the decimation of the wasp population. Like a child with a magnifying glass, I take great joy in watching them writhe in pain on the pavement. The cold snap has taken these mighty predators of the sky, and turned them into mere shadows of their former selves. I stop each time I see one, hence why my walk to work takes so much longer these days.I’m sure they will exact their revenge and sting me next summer, watching as my allergy swells me up like a giant pink balloon.
I must admit this weather has people confused; chavs unsure what to wear. Their pristine white summer tracksuit has been put away for winter, so they are stuck baking in black. I saw some sweating as they rode through town on their bikes; gathering together, they resemble a troop of young funeral attendees. Hoods up like a reverse Ku Klux Klan. The confusion has spread to nature: flowers pop in and out of their little houses, not sure if they’re meant to be dead or alive. Hedgehogs don’t know if they are meant to be on heat or in hibernation. After the monsoon related bank holiday weekend it is nice to have some summer back.
With thoughts of the seaside, ice creams, and strolls on Brighton Pier in my head I muddle through work. As I started my workmate invited me in, and like a doctor, offered me a seat on the upturned bucket. We skulk and hide, ever wary of the manager’s footsteps. Don’t work too hard evveryone.