I woke up with a loud birdsong choir in my ears, didn't know where I was and ran to the window to see what kind of birds were invading my room, but oh, goodness, my head felt as it had been cut in half, and being tortured seperately. Then there was a knock on my door, and Joe's voice came faintly to me, and only then did I realize that the birdsong was my phone's alarm! I opened the door to Joe, and he looked absolutely terrible, and asked me in a soft and faint voice if I was almost ready to help clearing up the diningroom.
I got dressed, not without sitting down and clutching my aching head a few times, and trying to fight off the nausea that was coming and going, leaving the most horrible taste in my mouth! After taking two pain tablets, and brushing my teeth, I started feeling a wee bit better, but every time I made a fast movement, the nausea threatened to overcome me. How and so ever, together Joe and self went very very slowly down the stairs, lamenting the fact that all the other bally birthday revellers could sleep their hangovers off, but the two of us had to clean the diningroom, and feed the guests.
Cleaning the diningroom was easier said than done, as it took ages to pick up all the streamers and clear away the glasses and plates ext., as we just could not work up a speed, seeing we had to sit down regularly to let the nausea pass!
But when it got to the vacuuming, we both actually almost expired, as the pulling and pushing movement did NOT go in harmony with our highly sensitive stomachs, and we took it in turn to either run for the toilet, or pushing the roaring and screaming machine! The noise alone was just unbelievably unsettling, and by this time Joe looked very yellow around the gills, and I suppose I must also have looked terrible, as Joe then said he would make us some or other concoction that might make us feel better. His regmaker (fixer) consisted out of worcester sauce, tomato juice and a lavish splash of gin! It looked and smelled vile, and it took some coaxing from my boss to get that lot down my throat, but I managed to swallow it, and indeed, after a few minutes I thought my tummy was a bit more tolerant!
That is until I started frying the pork sausages and the bacon! I do not lie if I say that I could literally feel my stomach turn, and I had to speedily turn off the gass and run for the toilets, feeling very sick, and very sorry for myself, and taking a vow that birthdays or not, I will never overindulge again!
I then took one of the kitchen towels and tied it over my nose, as I knew that I would not be able to cook if I could smell the food. Then Joe came into the kitchen with his first order, and he kind of staggered, then turned white, then red, and then he also legged it down to the toilets!
I managed to get the breakfasts cooked and plated, but as there was still no sign of Joe, I took off my towel, exhaled , and with a stiff smile on my white face, I softly treaded to the guests, put down the food, nodded my head, as I was not able to speak, and almost crept back to the kitchen. My poor head, the aspirins now worked out, felt like someone was hammering against my scull with a ten pound hammer!
Joe came back after a while, looking really bad, but I couldn't do another round in the diningroom, so he left the kitchen, and I watched him through the little window in the door as he stiffly, head held as still as a statue, took some more orders. It was the worst morning of my life, ever! But we managed the shift, but then Joe told me that Rosanne can come and do the baking if anything was needed, and I could have the day off till six when the evening shift started. It took about three days for me to really recover, I think that was because I'm not a regular drinker, and of course I swore off alcohol for ever!
I have posted the poem about growing old. I just love it!