10 Days

Today is a Wednesday. I have today off, and after seeing the rota for the rest of this week and next week, one of those is a rarity as I have been inundated with 8.5 shifts in the next 10 days. I'm working my half shift on Thursday followed by night shifts on Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. The money, which I will recieve 9 days before I leave to University, will be fantastically handy, but my mind in the short term will be in a state that is usually kept aside for horror movies. This blog then, will become a place where I will probably count down the days, whilst complaining of the misfortune that these nights will most probably bring me. No change there then...

In fairness, I have the alarm set for 3pm, (7.5 hours away), so I can have a round of golf with Master Beddoe before watching the brilliantly funny Inbetweeners movie, (again), before a Nando's which has yet to be confirmed. I don't know what it is about that place, but since I was introduced to it about a week ago, I have been a fair few times, because the chicken is simply devine. Oh dear, I sound like I should own a stately home or something. Like I actually have money in the bank. Like I am a posh boy.

I suffered tonight. It was a Tuesday night, so the custom was, shall we say, on the quiet side, which made the night drag on and on. I have felt rough all day, with the amount of Soothers wrappers in the bin ever increasing, I have developed a rather nasty cough that I hope will disappear sooner rather than later. Upon turning up at the "berp", I clearly had a face on that would make Mr.Depression blush, so the natural conclusion was that I was hungover. At 10pm on a Tuesday night. Am I really that much of a waster, that it wouldn't surprise anyone if this was the case?! I let them know, in no uncertain terms, that I was rather ill, but they were having none of it, before I turned the bullying on to another member of the team, who swiftly left to her bed as she left us night staff to "get on with it".

I suppose I'd better go to sleep. I would like to wake up comfortably at 3pm, so I can make the most of what will be a rare day off in the next couple of weeks. This blog is going to becoming awful, with much moaning and complaining that I am working too hard, but I suppose I'd better grit my teeth and get on with it. As Mother Mitten would say, (or Shane McMahon). Think of the money.