Kitchen work, work experience and Fairy cakes.

*Phew*, hard week over.

I’ve been gaining my “work experience” for this last week. Basically it’s where we get a week off school (What could be better?) to go and work for a company. You get a “certain degree of choice” into what you work as, that is if you get to pick near the beginning. I was quite near the end and ended up with a job, which quite frankly, wasn’t the best one there. I was a Kitchen assistant for a week. Not bad I suppose and I will say that in the end I did actually quite enjoy it.

I didn’t get that much experience of talking to old people staying at the home but there was one particular table at lunch time which had very friendly occupants. They kept, kept bringing up my height… basically making lots of tall jokes about me. ( I’m about 6’2)

“I think we need a stepladder to talk to you.”

“Six foot or seven foot?”

Me - “How are you?”
Friendly old man - “Fine, except I’m getting a sore neck looking up at you”

This next one isn’t a joke but it certainly made me laugh,

“He is going to go home and tell his friends how bad it is here because he is getting cheesed off by all the tall jokes. Are you getting cheesed off?”

…Cheesed off?...

These were the nicest old people you could hope to meet!

During the week I cried twice (Spanish onions!). I was also verbally abused by an old women (Some old folks weren’t very nice). I chopped carrots, leeks, 'taters and all sorts. I swept, wept...(Haha guys!) and ate. So ye, if you ever need to your Carrots sliced or instant mashed… well… mashed… give me a ring :)


The “Head chef” (One of two chefs, me being the second) said he would be impressed if I didn’t cut myself (I did a lot of chopping, dicing, slicing and peeling). I had some close shaves but didn’t draw blood... Seriously… the knife might slip *MajorWoopsie* (I wouldn’t say that if I lost a finger by the way) and it would be a very close shave. When I say shave I mean that close to my fingers. Close enough to “shave” them. Every time I slipped the knife I found myself counting my fingers. (Counting even more so than I do in my average maths lesson).


I didn’t cut myself but I did receive one injury. Now don’t laugh, I burnt myself… I was supposed to tell you that I got it saving someone from a blaze but I’ll tell you the truth readers, it was in fact as I tried to rescue… here it comes… the fairy cakes from the oven! Not the manliest way to hurt oneself, don’t worry though, I took it like a man… I went for the classic chefs swear word routine… It was Gordon Ramsay style. (Or maybe not quite… in fact not at all.)

*I'll be back!* Tommorow I hope :)