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??? ctd

Ah, Bank holiday weekend. without a doubt the worst shifts of the year. It's not that they're particuklarly hard, though they are busier than usual, it's simply the depressing knowledge that nearly everybody EXCEPT YOU is off work enjoying the sunshine.

Which is why I almost died laughing when the heavens opened yesterday and a deluge of biblical proportions caused Ormskirk to resemble little more than a lake (over which our rabidly territorial Model Boat Enthusiasts would undoubtedly wage another duck pogrom as they famously did over the pond in the park). Ho ho.

But anyway, why the question marks? Well, it just wouldn't be bank holiday weekend without a bemusing exchange with a clueless member of the general public, attempting to book a table.

HIM: Hi, I'd like a table for two at nine fifteen.
ME: Sorry sir, but the kitchen's shutting at half eight tonight.
HIM: Why?
ME: Because we've been open all day. Last bookings are eight fifteen.
HIM: Alright then, I'll take that. But it doesn't really matter if I turn up about nine does it?
ME: Not if you don't mind not being fed.
HIM: Why won't I get fed then?
ME: Because there won't be any chefs here.

Needless to say he turned up about half nine, and seemed genuinely enraged that yes, the kitchen was shut, and no, he couldn't have a meal, and no I wasn't going to cook for him. I think he thought I'd done it deliberately.

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