Monday, 3 July 2017

Waiting



Are you a good waiter?

No I don't mean one of those clever clogs with a good memory so there's no need to write down orders and who is able to pour a glass of champers from a full bottle all the while holding the bottom of said bottle with your thumb up it's what-sit. Nope those are definitely clever clever clogs, and if I wore a hat I'd take it off to them.

Nope not for me all that precision. I am always in awe of folk who can so seamlessly line plates up their arms, and the idea that I would ever be able to master the double spoon delivery of slippery shit into the exact right spot on the plate, well that's just the stuff of calm pleasant dreams, cos the reality is, is that I am more the slop it onto the plate kinda gal.

And as for their ability to smile and accept all manner of bullshit from dickhead punters all in a bid to pull the minimum wage, well I honestly do not aspire to that. I fear my tips would be few and probably my longevity in the job, limited, because my temperament or more likely just my temper would  see a stream of blue language and quite possibly a dribble of spit into food.

Nah, I would not be a good waiter, but I am pretty good at waiting.

I can while away hours reading, or surfing the old internet, or day dreaming, or people watching, or playing with dog, or watching the tellie, or sleeping while pretending to watch the tellie.

Today I am waiting - waiting for Stevie to get back from his current junket to NZ to watch a game of rugby and drink with his mates.

He's due in at later this afternoon.

That's quite a long wait, especially since my day started with a flying visit from Dog while it was still dark... no sleep in here... bugger.

I am doling out my little jobs so the whole day is covered.

Pick up all remaining dog shit - done

Wash hair - done

Check departure for first leg of journey - done

Calculate the time difference - oh who the fuck am I kidding, tried and failed.

Plant up last pond plant - done

Clean away all the takeaway containers and hide 'em in the wheelie bin - done

Wash up - done

Make special homecoming dinner: slow cooked lamb and beetroot - next on the list.

And then I have to get dressed - not up you understand, just dressed fit for going out in public, and that means finding a bra and perhaps swiping on some makeup - last thing before getting in the car cos it just wouldn't do to be too early and then fall asleep in front of the tellie - the drool is a makeup killer.

It's a pleasant day waiting for him to get back.