An ode to the potwash boy

O, potwash boy, o, potwash boy,
How lovely are your teapots.
They are so sparkly and so white,
I wish that I could marry you.
O, potwash boy, o potwash boy,
How lovely are your teapots.
(To the tune of, ‘O, Christmas Tree.’)

Now, before you judge me, let me just ask you this. Haven’t you ever been overcome by the sheer sparkly whiteness of a well cleaned teapot? No? Well then, my dears, you have simply not lived.

A teapot is a difficult thing to get totally clean, due to the tea’s fondness for discolouring things. I love a good cup of tea. Love it. But sometimes the tea just makes everything brown and tea coloured – the teapots, the mugs, people’s teeth.

When the potwash boy came to work on Tuesday, I had decided that from this day forth, I would no longer stand dirty teapots. Poor potwash boy. As soon as he arrived, I was like, “Today, we must clean ALL of the teapots and they must not be tea coloured anymore!”

He said he could do it for me and I should leave him to it. I wandered off, keeping a sneaky eye on the teapot challenge, expecting them to be returned a little stained still but hopefully an improvement on the previous situation.

And my god, was I blown away! These teapots SPARKLED! They SHINED! They were like artwork. I fawned helplessly over them, like a lovesick teenager.

“They’re beautiful!” I gasped, looking at the potwash boy, with love in my eyes. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Every time I popped my head round to offer him a cup of tea (which he refused), he was scrubbing a wall down or taking apart bits of machinery to clean down.

I was left stunned, especially considering we’ve never taken that hot metal plate thingy apart before.

It was only shyness that stopped me from asking for his hand in marriage.

What if my teapots aren’t sparkly enough for him? I wondered. What if I don’t take my kitchen apart regularly enough to clean it? No, I’m not good enough for him. He’ll never marry me. He’d see my tea stained mugs at home and run a mile.

And so for now, I just dream. I dream about sparkly clean teapots and milk jugs with no dried milk crust around the edge, about soap and hot water and yellow washing up gloves.

And I am happy.

Returning to life

Ok, so yesterday I had my last exam. I feel like it went alright but who knows if that signifies anything? I came home in a daze, my exhausted brain barely coping with the whole public transport thing. And suddenly I just couldnt wait to get back to normal things.

 

I had been wanting to do the dishes for days but felt too guilty if I stayed in the kitchen long enough to do them. So finally, I did them! It felt fabulous.

 

Then I went to the front room and gathered all the scraps of paper and manuals and textbooks and study guides and I put them in a box and taped it up and put it in the loft. I needed the physical distance from the books for my recovery.

 

Then I filled the law book shelf with other books, and it was like I was normal again! I almost went the whole hog and hoovered up but I was suddenly struck with exam-related PTSD and had a nap instead.

And so to normal life. What to do next? You know when you’ve been ill then you’re well again and you feel like you’ve got a new lease of  life and you decide to take up mountaineering or something? I kind of feel like that.

 

I’m unfortunately not going to take up mountaineering but I did think I might just try doing stuff that I’ve always wanted to do, like be a bit sporty or friendlier or be the type of person who gets excited about stuff. I don’t really get excited about stuff, ever. Not birthdays. Not Christmas. Not royal weddings. Nothing really. And I realised the other day that that’s boring. That’s really boring. To just be so placid and unaffected by anything ever. So I thought I’d give ‘getting excited about stuff’ a go and see how that goes. Anyway, the good news is, I made it through the exams and, due to my guilt for the boringness of all the exam related posts, will be aiming to make my blog far more interesting from now on….

Best revision method yet

There a billions of cases to remember and I got in the habit of making up little stories to try and remember the names and it really works. The sillier the story, the more likely I am to remember it. I’ll give you some examples without looking at my notes…

Wayne Rooney on the phone = R v Wain
A case where a guy did a telethon to raise money then gave cheques to the charity for the amount and they bounced and he had spent the money that was raised. Convicted of theft.

Lloyd Grossman on TV = R v Lloyd
Theft of films from a cinema by a person who worked there. He brought them back so he wasn’t said to have the intention to permanently deprive. No theft.

“Chill, man” = Chan Man-Sin v Attorney General for Hong Kong
As in “Chill, man, I thought the bank would give you the money back.” This one was a real stretch of my imagination! Guy wrote cheques and withdrew money on company’s overdrafts. He said it wasn’t an intention to permanently deprive because he knew the banks would refund the money when they found out it had been stolen. Convicted of theft.

It’s cloudin’ over, must get supplies from Waitrose = R v Clouden
Another stretch. This is for robbery – force can be applied to property, it doesn’t need to be against the person. In this case the person’s shopping bag was snatched. Shopping, Waitrose, cloudin’ over, see what I did?

The Scarlet Pimpernel is always the goodie so must be in self-defence = R v Scarlet
From this case, we get the legal principle that if acting in self defence there is no crime.

Living in a caravan’s not very classy = R v Klass
In this case, the burglars forced the door of a caravan with poles but entered the caravan without them to steal. No aggravated burglary, no weapons at time of entry.

Addams Family running a shop = R v Gomez
Defendant worked in a shop, bought some things with cheques which bounced, convicted of theft.

It’s dangerous in church = R v Church
The test for dangerousness in unlawful act manslaughter.

Franklin the tortoise wouldn’t be naughty (he’s a character in a children’s book) = R v Franklin
No crime = no unlawful act manslaughter.

Hopefully I don’t start laughing in the exam from the silliness of the stories I’ve made up to remember things. Last exam today! Wish me luck!

I solemnly swear to tidy up the front living room when my exams are finished. And to do the dishes. And to wear clothes instead of jarmies. And to cook. And to stop living off crackers. And to stop drinking instant coffee. And to exercise. And to put all my law books in one box so they are not on every single surface.

V is for….

VAYNITES!

This was apparently the thing to say while my friend was growing up, to protect you from getting ‘got’. For example, when you’re playing It or Tag and someone runs close by to ‘get’ you, you just say ‘Vaynites!’ and they can’t get you. Genius.

You can also say ‘Injections!’ and it has the same effect, so I’m told. It often gets shortened so saying ‘Jections!’ also guarantees you immunity.

I remember saying ‘Bagzee’ when I was younger, to get extra immunity from stuff. Like if you’re picking who’s going to be It, you could say ‘Bagzee not It!’ and that would be fine. You were immune then, cause you’d said the sacred word, Bagzee.

My brother and I made up our own word, which was a slight variation on Bagzee. We said Begznee. For some reason, I remember really clearly being on holiday somewhere, and we were sharing a bunk bed and there was a little sink in the room and my brother was saying everything with Begznee before it and I was a mess, I couldn’t stop laughing! He said “You take take your Begznee toothbrush and you put the Begznee tap on….” It was the funniest thing I had ever heard anyone say in my entire life!

Wouldn’t it be good if you could still get immunity from things as an adult by saying the immunity word?

“Laura, I did the dinner, do you mind washing up?”
“VAYNITES! Vaynites not doing the dishes! Yesssss! I said vaynites! In YOUR face! Don’t have to do them! Woooooo! I’m off to watch TV, enjoy doing the dishes!”

What runs through my head when I’m working in the kitchen

Ok, 8am, we’re open. I’m in the kitchen. Great. I love working in the kitchen. All the food! Right, get set up, chopping board, knives, tongs, ready to go. Come on, where are the orders, the customers? Come on, come on! I’m ready! Let’s do this!

Ermmm… what should I do now? I guess I’ll wash a few dishes. La lala. Wash, wash, wash. A plate, some mugs, a spoon. Done. What now? O! Ok! There’s an order! I can hear someone making an order. Great. I’m ready. Let’s go.

It’s a full breakfast. Woop! Hob on, bacon in pan, crack two eggs in another. Sausages, tomato and mushrooms in oven. Heat the plate a little. Toast in. Which toast? White! Ok, it’s in. We’re on. Check the eggs. Turn the bacon.

O wait a minute, another order just came in. Scrambled eggs and bacon. Two more peices of bacon in the bacon pan. Another peice of bread in the toaster. Crack some eggs into another. Bit of cream. Salt. Pepper. Whisk whisk whisk. And on the heat. Keep whisking, don’t let it stick to the bottom. O wait, the sausages and tomatoes and mushrooms are ready for the first breakfast. But the toast hasn’t popped up yet! It ages from being done. And the fried eggs still aren’t ready to go. Ok, swish the oil around a bit to cook the top of them. The bacon is done. O man, half the first breakfast is done. Ok, no probs. Keep everything hot. O wait, stop swishing the fried egg oil! The scrambled eggs need whisking so they don’t stick. One hand doing that, the other hand doing everything else which needs doing.

Can I hear someone else making an order at the till? What?! No! O no, it’s a bacon sandwich to go! I haven’t any hobs left and no space in the bacon pan! Why? Why couldn’t they just get a croissant or something?! O my goodness! Why are they all here? I don’t understand why they can’t just time themselves so there’s a little space in between?

Ok, eggs done, toast done. Get plate with free hand. Everything on the plate for the full breakfast. Need to take it out. But can’t leave the scrambled egg pan! O wait, everything’s ready for that one. On plate, quickly, butter toast, cut in half. On plate. Both breakfasts done. Go go go!

Back to kitchen. Bacon in pan. Sizzle sizzle sizzle. Bread out. Butter, HP. Bacon on bread. Cut in half. Wrap up. Give to customer. Phew! Breathe out. Done. Clean up a little bit. And now I’m ready to go again. So where are the customers now? Stare around a little bit and look for things to do. Done everything. Where are they? I wish the customers would come back. It’s good when there’s lots of them. It makes time go faster and keeps me busy.

Is that one?! Is it?! No, they just want coffee. O…. I miss the customers.