So as I write this I am standing in a rather quiet Butchers shop staring out at the sunny outdoors, wondering why the heck I agreed to work here again. Anytime I have had to work here recently my method has always been the same, broaden my accent, slag off the boss, comment on the weather and make sure the customer believes I am dreadfully concerned with the rising price of a Barrs Steak and Gravy pie.
In many ways I can really see the appeal of a job like this. You work 9-5, you know nearly all your customers by name and never have to take your work home. But me being me and getting bored really quickly doing the same thing it wouldn’t be ideal as a career choice. Customers would come in and I’d be staring at that patch of blood on the ceiling away in a world of my own. Or trying to create the worlds first mince-beef headwear with build in sauce pockets ,something like homers nacho hat. Ah, the ‘elf an safetay folk would have me for breakfast.
Anyways Uni for this year is over, has been for some weeks. My days have been filled with; trying to get a placement, stupidly long walks, sending my new laptop off for repair after the blueray drive broke after just one month, trying to fix the old one, ice-cream, job interviews, tennis, salad, flying disks, water fights, sitting in the park with Louise for hours, being watched my squirrels, making friends with a pigeon, ice-cream, losing the friendship of a pigeon, walking home freezing in shorts after forgetting that it’s cold when the sun goes down and sitting on chairs on the roof of our house ankle on knee, wine glass of ribena held aloft and waving like madmen at the unamused southerners giving us the middle finger from the Enterprise as it goes past on the tracks behind our house. Just because they have to work for a living.
Is Jim Allister really that deluded? I mean grow up and move on.
Picture of dog = most constructive activity of your summer.