A Day in the Life of
Slowly I am beginning to get the feel of this historical old hotel and have ventured across the street to view the shops … one hesitates to use the plural, though by stretching a point and adding the Emporium [that sells liquor, a minimal variety of groceries, pots and gold mining pans], the Shire Office with rooms displaying photos of 'the olden days' and which I have yet to explore … and to bask in the mild climate that is all part and parcel of this part of Western Australia. However my day is rather busy with work. Ha! Isn't it always so, except of course for those who have inherited a legacy that their parents or grandparents sweated blood and tears to gain?
My day begins at 5.30am when I stagger down a steep flight of dimly lit stairs, grope my way along a narrow corridor and using my mobile phone as a source of light, click on a switch giving me sufficient illumination to enable me to unlock doors before getting organised for those who need a breakfast cooked.
There are many advantages of working in a hotel in a small country town … the main one being that those who need a meal invariably like a little chatter to begin their day. That they torment me with threats of 200,000 coming for breakfast in the near future is but a sideline. By the way, to that idle comment I added my piece de resistance … I am leaving before then … just joking of course! The hungry masses are fed [masses meaning anything from three to seven]. Those preferring cereal or toast get their own. I do boil the kettle for tea or coffee, so my talents are not entirely wasted! I may wipe a cloth around a few spaces in between times … cleaning down the gas stove did take some moments! I have resorted to wearing rubber gloves in a delicate shade of pink, which enables me to keep some semblance of the lady-like hands that would otherwise denote me as a menial, or is it manual, worker.
As you may imagine, life in a small Australian Outback town miles from the fast pace of city life is unique. We do watch the NEWS on TV. I wonder why? It is always full of strife, real or something those in the powerhouses of the world would like us to believe, or of disasters of the weather variety, over which we have little control, except of course turning back the clock two hundred years.
At noon I take another turn down stairs … I may have spent some of my break out on the balcony watching the road trains [huge trucks towing three trailers behind, and having umpteen wheels that are impossible to count in the time they are in view] pass through town transporting produce, or machinery, or equipment, north or south … doing a little washing, and the other chores essential to life no matter where one resides. Two hours spent in the kitchen includes making pizzas [THE BEST IN THE WEST], preparing vegetables, and washing another basin of dishes. Lunch follows and invariably I partake of this on the balcony where the sun is shining. Wrap-around verandahs provide a little shade.
The evening shift begins at 4.00pm and I clamber up the stairs four or five hours later, tired and weary after the dining room is emptied, after we have eaten, after the dishes and chores are complete, to collapse into bed and listen to the fridge make its moaning noises. Having a fridge alongside one's bed has a decided advantage! A container of ice-cold water in a climate such as this is essential.
Making the day more interesting is the variety of people passing through … the regulars who stay for days that turn into weeks or months as their employment is extended, those who cannot find accommodation in the larger towns north or south, and those who are just taking a holiday. People have tales to tell, some are believable, some appear to need a substantial application of salt, but all are entertaining.
My day begins at 5.30am when I stagger down a steep flight of dimly lit stairs, grope my way along a narrow corridor and using my mobile phone as a source of light, click on a switch giving me sufficient illumination to enable me to unlock doors before getting organised for those who need a breakfast cooked.
There are many advantages of working in a hotel in a small country town … the main one being that those who need a meal invariably like a little chatter to begin their day. That they torment me with threats of 200,000 coming for breakfast in the near future is but a sideline. By the way, to that idle comment I added my piece de resistance … I am leaving before then … just joking of course! The hungry masses are fed [masses meaning anything from three to seven]. Those preferring cereal or toast get their own. I do boil the kettle for tea or coffee, so my talents are not entirely wasted! I may wipe a cloth around a few spaces in between times … cleaning down the gas stove did take some moments! I have resorted to wearing rubber gloves in a delicate shade of pink, which enables me to keep some semblance of the lady-like hands that would otherwise denote me as a menial, or is it manual, worker.
As you may imagine, life in a small Australian Outback town miles from the fast pace of city life is unique. We do watch the NEWS on TV. I wonder why? It is always full of strife, real or something those in the powerhouses of the world would like us to believe, or of disasters of the weather variety, over which we have little control, except of course turning back the clock two hundred years.
At noon I take another turn down stairs … I may have spent some of my break out on the balcony watching the road trains [huge trucks towing three trailers behind, and having umpteen wheels that are impossible to count in the time they are in view] pass through town transporting produce, or machinery, or equipment, north or south … doing a little washing, and the other chores essential to life no matter where one resides. Two hours spent in the kitchen includes making pizzas [THE BEST IN THE WEST], preparing vegetables, and washing another basin of dishes. Lunch follows and invariably I partake of this on the balcony where the sun is shining. Wrap-around verandahs provide a little shade.
The evening shift begins at 4.00pm and I clamber up the stairs four or five hours later, tired and weary after the dining room is emptied, after we have eaten, after the dishes and chores are complete, to collapse into bed and listen to the fridge make its moaning noises. Having a fridge alongside one's bed has a decided advantage! A container of ice-cold water in a climate such as this is essential.
Making the day more interesting is the variety of people passing through … the regulars who stay for days that turn into weeks or months as their employment is extended, those who cannot find accommodation in the larger towns north or south, and those who are just taking a holiday. People have tales to tell, some are believable, some appear to need a substantial application of salt, but all are entertaining.
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