I went back to work after my two days off, feeling on top of the world (well, almost). after speeding away from the black clad people, I had taken another small road from Comry that led up to the hill where my wild strawberry patch were, where I found a nice spot under a clump of trees to just lie and read, and contemplating life with all it's strange people. The unfriendly black robed lot was bugging me, as I was sure they were devil worshippers, and the fact that they came to one of my regular spots was to say the least, a bitty unsettling.
Anyhow, as always I was quite refreshed by my green trees, but while prepping for breakfast, I had this strange feeling that something was wrong. As I had only a limited time to get everything done, and then a busy time taking orders, making coffees and teas, and cooking breakfasts, it wasn't till after the last guests were served, and I made myself a cuppa, that I started looking around the kitchen, to see what was bothering me.
To my utter amazement, the flat top, a thick iron plate, warmed by a small gas flame, on which I cooked the steaks, chops, gammon steaks, and some fish sorts, were gone! I started hyperventilating, as without that thing, I was lost on the busy week-end nights. So I sat down outside, my head in a spin, wondering if it had maybe broke down, and was sent in for reparation. I calmed down then, hoping that that was the answer, and went back to start the days prep.
When Tony came in I asked him where the flat-top was. He just stared at me with a kind of challenging look, and told me that between him, Theresa and Tommy, the guy who came in to cook when I was off, they had decided that it was an unneccessary gadget that sucked up a lot of gas!
I just goggled at him, and then a fury so terrible welled up inside me that I wanted to clobber the little man, or squash him like an insect, and I told him that from now on his bally housekeeper can do week-ends, as she was such an expert in the running of a kitchen. I was furious, and stayed furious for the rest of the day, and when Theresa ambled in asking me to make her something for lunch, I exploded, and told her to do it herself.
I came down from my rest in a foul mood, as I knew how difficult the night would be, even though it was a weekday, which usually wasn't busy. And as during the week it was mostly locals, who came in for a hearty meal. usually steak and ale pies, or chicken and leek, or curry, I could use the pans for the occasional steak, or chops, but the worry of what I would do that week-end made me all shivery.
On Friday night, just before six, Tony came strolling in with two young girls flanking him, his scrawny pelvis pushed forward at an amazing angle, like always when he talked to a personable youngish woman or a girl. Following this trio was a small boy, no taller than my worktable.
The boy and one of the girls, an amazon who were almost as tall as me, were twins, and the children of Caren, who helped out some days, and the other girl was Francis, the daughter of my previous employer, and they were all about thirteen years old, two very lusty young teenagers!
Oh my good heavens, within half an hour of that lot started, I was so fed-up with the two girls that I wanted to throttle them. The wee boy, Gary, was however a little worker, and he got stuck in, and learned quickly how to master the dish washer, but the girls were there for anything but to work!