The Little Settlement
March 27, 2008 at 12:20 am | In Art, flexifoil, kite | 1 CommentWhile out kiting at Slapton Sands in Devon yesterday I came across this …
Magic eh?!!!
The things people do!
I love it so ah do! … when I was a kid I would shrink the old style crisp packets under a grill till they were perfect minatures and then sneak them onto the shelves beside the original packets in the local R.S. McColls.
I was a wee bit of a space cadet ye see.
Anyway heres a wee bit more of The Little Settlement …
I found it quite inspiring … Im toying with ideas at the moment – Some kind of intricate sloganeering on random stones at beaches may be the way forward for me.
Watch this space!
As for the kiting …
Owned.
Oh and by the way … after reading the Wikipedia entry on Slapton Sands I find out that it is a nudist beach … Really?!!!
There was no flesh on display that day … I may return for further investigation though!
Just the sheer thought of it … you know – being naked and walking aboot … Whits the attraction of that?
An all over tan?
Nah its no for me … its aw a load o shite.
Aw the best for the noo!
The Statue Of Liberty …
March 26, 2008 at 12:19 am | In Mr Johnson, Work | Leave a Comment
… thats what its like.
Ahm talkin about the catering industry.
Its like a beacon, a point of light, a refuge for the British underclass.
Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free; send these, the homeless tempest-tossed … and we will turn them into kitchen porters and feed them “meals on duty”.
Magic eh.
Kitchen Porters are often a breed apart.
The unemployable become employed eh?
The thing I like about them is that they have history … imagine washing pots and pans all day long for 20 odd years … what must that be like? What does that do to a fellow human. Im fascinated by them. I find a certain romance in it all.
Christ I need help!
Anyway …
Occasionally amongst the sea of kitchen porters a certain one or two somehow manage to float to the surface and make themselves known amongst all their peers.
Characters.
Thats the only way tae describe them.
And I think I may have stumbled upon another.
Mr Johnson is in his mid fifties and he is happy. He lives with his mother and step-father in a dive of a council estate. He is a wee bit tapped … but seems pleasantly aware of the ridiculousness of it all … life and living and all that stuff.
Mr Johnson has hinted that he has had a nervous breakdown and a marriage that lasted a matter of weeks.
Mr Johnson has eyebrows that mustve been stolen from one of Jim Hensons Muppets.
Ye gotta love the daft old bastard eh?
I like him a lot … he is simple in a good way.
I even work late sometimes just to give him a lift home at the end of his shift … he likes the craic and so do I.
I may spend a fair bit of time blogging him.
If I was in the trenches …
March 25, 2008 at 11:21 pm | In Hate, Work | Leave a Comment
I would be a goner!
If I had the group of chefs I work with at the moment behind me in any case …
Useless they are ahm tellin ye … absolutely zero work ethic.
Wankers too … get this -
So there I am 5.30 in the morning trying to show this “chef” how to do a breakfast service.
He is 19 … He if full of himself … and he knows sweet fuck all about cooking.
The sort of bloke that when you tell him to do something he asks you why?
When I issued him with his first rota he said “My name is third on the list – does that mean Im third in the pecking order?” … Ah told him there was no pecking order – you do what youre told and you dont worry about fuck all else.
Yip! … A True Prick of the Highest Order.
Bawbags has no truck with those types now … its the best way ahm tellin ye!
History has proved that to me …
Ye see when I was 20 – I was probably a prick myself.
And when I was 25 – I always felt an urge to inform pricks they were pricks.
But now Im 30 – I just let the pricks BE pricks – theyll get it in the neck eventually.
Anyway, I Digress …
So at 8.30am we are wrapping up the breakfast service and in walks the second chef. First thing he does is change the channel on the kitchen radio … it is his radio after all.
Prick Chef lifts his head from his bacon trays and blurts out “Oi you ignorant Cunt … I was listening to that”
Me and the second chef were absolutely aghast … Ah couldnae believe ma ears!
The second chef very calmly walked up to him and altough I didnt quite catch what he said … the words “take it outside” were definitely used.
The second chef turns his back and walks calmly away … but Prick Chefs pride has been hurt … throwing a pack of bacon at no one in particular he shouts “Lets fucking go then mate … reckon Im scared of you?”
He should of been scared – it would have been a pasting … a seven shades of shit pasting.
Time for Bawbags to grasp the poison chalice that is kitchen management – I would of loved to have seen this pasting occur but in my role as Head Chef it would not have been looked well upon by the upper echelons.
“Right ye fuckin idiot … get the fuck oot ma kitchen … who in the name o fuck de ye think ye are … ye canny be kickin aff like that in here – theres too many fuckin sharps aroond … nae tellin whit yell do ye pshyco”
I go straight intae Begsbie mode when it comes tae shite like that.
In a GOOD way that is.
If thats entirely possible.
Needless to say Prick Chef is no longer in the companys employ.
But the other 4 or 5 still are.
Slowly Slowly Catch The Monkey … constructive dismissal is the way to go.
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