Back to it

It's been quite a busy week. Easter usually is. The first real mass movement of cattle down to my fair land to graze on beer, fry ups and each other. It's really quite a sight.

Since my last writings (too long ago) I have found myself receiving a promotion from lowly, but loveable glass collector, to all round waiter, barista and bartender. Once I wanted to be a barrister, I'm almost there. The difference of the work to that I did in Poland is pretty much polar. Teaching English involved standing in a room and talking. Now I'm standing in a room talking and so much more. In Warsaw, half my time was spent traversing the city in the desperate hope of finding and attending my classes on time, with the constant panic of the repercussions of lateness. The Chy is literally a minute from my house. It's downhill. And no one gives a shit if you're five, ten or fifteen minutes late. I love it.

Not

Doesn't the guy in the first one look just like Jake Gyllenhaal? And John Cleese making a return appearance to my blog.

This weekend that's just gone has been pretty manic. On Friday I worked the day shift and was on call in the evening. When I was told not to come in (via a text message I received in Belushi's) it seemed only right to make the most of a free night. Around half midnight, me and my drinking companion saw the reason why I was not required at work. The Chy was practically dead. We headed to Red Square. Around five hours of sleep later I was back in The Chy. Work was busy, but not quite as bad as the day before. The sun was shining and people came out to drink in the beer garden. It's as simple as that really. A few hours off and I was back in to do my first night shift behind the bar. A nice short one because I had worked earlier. Everything went sweet except a few shouting fits about vodka. I made enough tips to get a few drinks afterwards to go on top of the awesome 'double' Maker's Mark and Coke my mate Sean bought me. They helped in the dancing like a twat I did to Mr Brightside (both the Rich Cheese and Killers' versions). Whilst in Red Square, Sean and I discussed making a decent vodka martini and the need for my bar to stock some Kina Lillet to make a proper Bond style one. Five more hours sleep later and it was Sunday. I don't remember much from yesterday except the excruciating pain I felt in my feet and my legs. My muscles were tighter than the proverbial nun's, I could barely stand up. I hit the sack at around 11pm after an episode of Lost and a bath. I was done.

A good night's sleep can do you the world of good. Unless you've been drinking heavily for the past few days, in which case you'll probably feel a bit better, but still at the mercy of the results of excess. I got through today's shift with a sore throat and sore back. Thankfully the weather at the moment is fucking miserable, so hardly anybody came in today. I've got a few hours off before returning at 10pm for a full length night shift. I'll have done 11 hours there today by the time it's all done.

Which is why I don't really find myself that concerned about looking on eBay for some work gear. The bar seems to be my new home and for once it's on the side that receives money instead of spending money. Might help me get out of the mineshaft of debt that I'm stuck down. Another graduate joins the work force, behind the bar.