When I opened up my laptop on the 16th October, my email inbox presented me with the tantalising prospect of a breakthrough; the bakery had responded to my job application and invited me to meet the proprietor on the 19th October at 2pm, at the bakery itself.
I replied to confirm my attendance.
Persevering with securing the dream here in Ireland was running the risk of having absolutely zero money in about two week’s time, with regular outgoings still needing to be paid for. “In the shit” as my dad eloquently put it. But, alternatively, travelling back home to Bath, UK, would scupper my chances of cementing my dream’s foundations and enabling a more permanent grip in the long term. This has to be the chance I’ve been waiting for and it was now or never! It’s only money, as they say.
I met the owner of the bakery. We had a very short conversation, standing in the coffee shop area of the premises, then moving on in to the packaging area that would be my kingdom for the promised 4 and a half weeks – if I got the job of course. The talk was straight to the point, respectful on both sides, with a touch of humour and lasted about 5 mins. Perfect.
“Come in for a shift on Wednesday 21st at 5.15am and see how you get on.”
Great!
I must remember to keep my eyes on the prize here and whatever happens in the forthcoming weeks will not result in me beating myself up when small mistakes are made, like I tend to do. It’s easy to get swallowed in the quicksand of workplace hierarchy and internal politics so I’ll be on guard against any thought that attacks my current positivity. This is not a career move. Don’t sweat the trivial and just enjoy the moment for what it is – a new, temporary experience. It’s not about the job, it’s about what it leads to; getting myself in the tax system and earning enough to keep me here for another month or two.
My alarm was set for 3.45am. The time I normally go to bed! But, talk the talk then walk the walk, right? Or as my sister would say,”fake it till you make it!”
So, very shortly, it would begin. I couldn’t remember the last time I was so excited about starting a job!
Taking an intermission from my strategic planning, here’s some lighter bites:
With winter approaching, turf (peat) was delivered to the house. This is an Irish method of heating the house, by burning the stuff in cast iron stoves that most homes have here. Turf is dug from common land by members of the public, without any legal obligations or interference from bureaucracy, (yet) as far as I am aware. Historically dug by hand (backbreaking work), a whole family would participate in this gathering of fuel, to see them through the colder months of the year. It takes around two weeks of labour to provide a year’s worth of comfort. These days, the turf is usually cut by machine. The load delivered to the house was all different shapes and sizes, so all cut by hand. It cost my landlord €350, which is about half the price of an equivalent winter’s supply of compressed wood chip logs.
The tractor driver was interested in seeing my van, as he said he’d seen it around the area and was really into his T4 VW Transporters.
See pics below.
The tractor arrives in the dead of night, the driver reverses, navigating his way through a gap barely big enough to get a car through.
Reversed into place, scraping leaves and branches off the trees in the process.
The landlord is holding my remotely operated flash here, off to the left of the shot. He is into his photography and was very willing to help. Good job!
Wheelbarrowing the turf from the front of the shed, to the storage area around the back. Pictured is the remaining half of the load.
Safely deposited in the storage area, to keep it dry. The darker the turf, the better the quality.
The turf was surprisingly light when dry and contained lots of fibres and bits of moss.
Making a consommé:
Carrot, mushroom, broccoli, parsnip, celery, potato. Not shown was sweated onion and garlic. No stock cube or herbs used, only seasoning.
Seaweed added too! Although this thickens and clouds the soup, so mustn’t add too much in this case, as a consommé should be thin and clear.
Done!
Englishman in Ireland 