Its grim up North!

Once again I find myself back at the Fokers! Trying to behave, act like a normal girl and try not to cause too much of a riot.
Being back after so much freedom was hard but I had to knuckle down and get a job, as The Dad said!

Being back in the North was hard to come to terms with, no sunshine, sea,  or late night drinking! Boaring!

As The Dads a stickler on getting out and working, I have to get a job and FAST. Also I need to spend as little time as I can in his company.

With little working experience under my belt the only job I can get is as a waitress. There is a well known establishment in a place called Smithills in Bolton and as its on my door step, I apply and get taken on. The place has employed a great deal of the surrounding area including my brother in law before he married my sis and I knew him.

Now this place is stuck in the 18th century with decor, building, uniform and from what I saw management. If the managers could have horse whipped us and got away with it, they would.

Uniform was black zip up the front sack esq dress, white pinny with a pocket deep enough to get into and a lovely very attractive white mop cap! Oh boy am I gonna be stunning in this outfit. As I still have a mohawk, all the hair MUST be inside the cap at all time. Andy Cap eat your heart out!

The menu is family friendly and good value and a cracking black pudding all the way from Bury as the star attraction for a starter.

Shifts were long and hard work on the legs as you have to serve big sections and walk on a hard cold solid stone floor. Sure my feet got piles off that bloody floor?

Mr Bell Brown was the manager and what a tosser and rude task master he was. More will be said about him later?

Plus side,  I get to me two adoreable gay chefs, Martin and Gary. Both in a relationship at the time and a cheeky manner and always up for a giggle and good time. In the 80’s girls who hung out all the time with gay guys and went clubbing in gay clubs only, got the name ” faghag”. I wore this title with pride as these guys knew how to party and Canal Street Manchester became our regular nights out.

Being around gays all the time was great but you never got hit on apart from the ladies of Canal Street. Now I was flattered by the female attention but not for me. Diesel dykes in dungerees, bother boots and crew cuts are not my bag but thanks for the offer. Years later as part of the 1940’s reinactors group, dungerees are the thing as land girl uniforms but I still have an image from back then and just can’t bring myself to wear them 🙂

Things in the fokers house are starting to get a little uncomfortable again and I feel trapped. The Dad is nagging me to work all hours and even offering Mr Bell Brown extra rotas on my behalf. There I am doing a day shift, getting ready to go home to be told by Mr double Barrel, ” oh your dad said you can stay on as we are short staffed”. Great The Dad is now in with Mr DB and I can’t get out of this.

Martin and Gary now receive an offer to go to London and help open up a brand new gaff in Soho. Oh and we need waitresses and bar staff.

That’s all the info I need so without telling the Fokers, train tickets have been bought and digs arranged in London.

Mr DB is now getting on my case every shift I do and knowing that I am outta there very soon, one Sunday day shift among the hussle and bussle of a busy dinning room, I snap!!!!!!!

DB’s been pecking my head for an hour and now following me to ever table I serve to get on my case. Again, this is not another one of my finer moments but hey why change now?  DB follows me into the very hot and crowded kitchen to give me what for and I see RED. 

I turn to him, drop the pinny containing that days money, pull off the mop cap, unzip said sack, drop it to the floor and stand there in my underware and announce ” stick your fuc##ng job up your fuc##ing arse” and walked out to get my things and do one!!!!!!!!

Years later I am told that Mr DB fell off his throne as he was having an affair with one of the waitresses and was sacked!!!! Ha ha ha, that’s karma baby.

Occasionally I go back to eat at said gaff and my antics on that day are still talked about! A legend in a kitchen in my underware!!!! 

On the down side, Mr DB who is now bessie mates with The Dad, has called to tell him what’s happened and when I get back to the Fokers house all my belongings are in black bin bags on the door step,,, classy move parents but again I trump you as I head off with what I can carry and hop on a train to the big smoke!!!!!

London here I come…….. 🙂 


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