Thursday, 22 December 2011

Dear God, I Swore At A Nun. Don't Tell St. Peter And He Might Still Let Me In.

Given that we are now far enough into December for Christmas to actually be near, I am beginning to feel slightly more festive than I did during the Christmas CD week of November. Work have obviously moved on as they have now taken to randomly playing Auld Lang Syne whenever the mood takes them. They'll probably be celebrating Easter by the time New Year's Eve comes round... However, instead of letting myself get riled up about the premature appearance of Cliff Richard, I have instead poured all my efforts into figuring out who has who in the work Secret Santa. I'm especially excited to be involved as I was banned from playing last year in my house at university because I had ruined it for everyone else the year before. (This was the same year I ate the chocolate out of my housemate's advent calendar and replaced it with mean handwritten notes. Once again, I narrowly miss out on Housemate of the Year...). Anyway, this year has proved more of a challenge as there are quite a few of us on the deli, and it has been especially difficult due to certain uncooperative members of staff. My offers to buy drinks and extra presents for people who release information have not been well received and I was even refused when I told someone I would give them a quid per name, which I thought was a very reasonable offer. One co-worker even ignored a note that said, 'Who is your Secret Santa? Tell me and you will be rewarded my child. Love, God'. (Me and God have extremely similar handwriting, it's really weird). I'm not saying her ignoring the note was wrong, I'm just saying that she should think about how she is going to explain herself on judgement day, that's all. The Lord does not look kindly upon those who ignore his wishes.

Probably due to my Secret Santa sabotage, I have suffered some serious karmic justice in the past week or so in the form of a tooth pick through the palm of my hand, leaving me bleeding and wounded. (N.B. have since been able to pass mark off as Stigmata, thus reinforcing note from God). I had been put on the cheese tasting table at work to cover someone's dinner and became so bored that I resorted to creating a miniature Merry-Go-Round made out of toothpicks and Brie - a startling masterpiece, if I do say so myself. Unfortunately, just as I was putting on the finishing touches, The Boss That Sees All strolled around the corner, forcing me to hurriedly squash my creation underneath my hand and smile politely as I felt all my blood slowly drain into a block of French cheese.

I should probably prepare myself for a spate of karmic attacks after the week I've had - I somehow managed within the short space of 30 seconds to say both 'oh my God!' and 'bloody hell!' to a nun. My mum has just retired from working at a Catholic primary school and as such we were required to go to her retirement mass on Monday morning. It's been so long since I've actually attended mass that I'd forgotten how difficult it is to sit still and be quiet for an hour whilst someone else speaks. I was starving as well and actually contemplated at one point going up for seconds of Holy Communion. We did, however, get a shoutout from the priest when he said he was happy that "Mrs. Rooke's daughters" had been able to attend. I'm not entirely sure my hollering from the back of the congregation when he said it was acceptable, though...

One of the best things about my mum retiring is that there will be no more screams of, "HI MRS. ROOKE!" when we are trying to walk around in Morrisons. Sometimes I just feel like grabbing the child, explaining to it that I was this close to getting my mum to buy me CheeseStrings, and now he has ruined it by reminding her that I am not a child and should not be eating CheeseStrings in the first place. Also, now she has retired I can go to the fridge and eat something without worrying that I have just eaten tomorrow's lunch or the disciple's food for the year one production of The Last Supper. I'm aware that most of these advantages relate somewhat to food, but then again, welcome to my life...

1 comment:

Davina said...

I am glad you are putting all that creativity and those transferrable skills to good use. Junk modelling to cheese and wood sculpture - you never knew just how important it would be in your adult life.