A whole year has past, and now it is almost time for H.I. to begin the first Summer School again. I wish I could show you pictures of the church, but until I find a way of getting all 2500 photos out of the old iPhoto and into the new, this will not be possible. Any suggestions?
This year, I have selected the (fully clothed) model - she is a young friend who also just happens to work in the pub. Our pub has the (unjust these days) reputation of the bar-staff ignoring customers, so at least I know she can sit still without moving for an hour at a stretch. That was an in-joke.
57% of the running costs of our pub are wages, so the bar staff have some justification in believing that the place is there for their benefit, but the days of lolling around or looking at their phones have been curtailed by the board, who have cut their hours but not their workload down.
Since Britain turned into a nation reliant on service industries, I cannot decide if I prefer the dauntingly efficient and humourless manners of a professional French waiter, or the endearing - if irritating - British waiter/waitress who has to go to the kitchen to ask the chef to describe one of the dishes on the menu when you ask about it.
What I can't stand is the way that nothing is 'a problem' to some young waiters here, and they wait until you have just put a forkfull of food into your mouth before asking, "Is everything alright for you today?"
No, on balance I'll have the surly Parisian waiters in restaurants, and the no-nonsense, buxom blondes (of myth) in British pubs. Now I sound like Nigel Farage.
My day. - My day has been drawn out for me in advance. There will be little time for slacking. My tasks have been timed to the minute. From 5.30 am (when I write a...
3 hours ago