Monday.
Bloody hate it.
Don’t know why I am self employed and make up my own hours. But Monday. Bloody hate it.
It reminds me of dishwashing at The Crescent Hotel being shouted at by Raymond the psycho chef and Marlene the head dishwasher. It brings back beeing a bi-lingual secretary who was rumbled cos I didn’t speak any other languages, being a telex operator, being receptionist at an oil company, temping, listening to a large American oil man spitting tobacco into a spitoon on the audio tape as I transcribed his jargon.
Being patronised by oil men in ridiculous suits. Wearing a toga at the oil show for large amounts of money and inhaling helium on the stand and drinking copious wine ignoring the evil eye of the fool who had paid us to stand still and smile. Scoffing great big free lunches at oil companies during the boom in Aberdeen and drinking all night and not getting hangovers…Monday. ah yes the bad old good old days.
