3

Part 3

The reception area had large patio doors which looked out over the sea.  A pink hue signalled the arrival of dawn with accompaniment of the tractor to level the sand and check for bombs, locals swimming, jogging or playing that stupid mattock game. At least the imported sand was used for something more constructive than bronzing.

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The second phase of my job, after my golden hour of quietly drinking coffee and devouring a chocolate croissant, was to clean and do the wake up calls. These were written in a book called ‘Wake up calls’, which made sense. I was to have some fun with that at a later stage, but on the first night the joke was on me. The regulars found great amusement in writing down a friend’s name. Even when I woke the aggrieved party, they just smiled and rolled back to sleep. I was not amused.

As 8 ‘clock neared I decided to wake Diane with a nice cup of tea. I had asked her before how she liked it and she answered, “6 times a night.”

“1 lump or 2?”

“2 would be better.”

She was reasonably attractive but lying there with her mouth open was not her best pose. Her boob was hanging out of the sheet. Like a gentleman I covered her scarcely noticing the pink nipple. Her chirpy nature wore off when being woken. She burned the candle at both ends and occasionally in the middle. She slept with full commitment but I knew that the quicker I woke her, the quicker I could get to sleep. After many attempts she asked, “Why did you bring me cold tea?”

Finally, she entered reception, having taken a shower and said, “I’m late but at least I’m clean.” 

I recognised The Beatles quote and was even more pleased to see her than normal. The kiss on the cheek meant that I could go to bed. Together would have been nice but I left alone. I trudged wearily along the tiled corridor, up the stairs, through the kitchen, past the washing up that I did for the first and last time and into the ‘sharks’ room that I shared with Dave and some others.

The pile of jeans and t-shirts reminded me of college days. There was a test to see if one’s socks needed changing. They were thrown against the mirror. If they stuck they needed washing. In the 3^rd year this method also applied to underpants. Amid the torn paperbacks and broken chess pieces I fell into a deep slumber.

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Just after midday I was shaken awake by Diane, “Chucky wants a staff meeting.”

“Why now?” ‘Why’ is not a word to be used in these parts.

“I don’t know, just get down there.”

Chucky’s influence was great. He had served with distinction during the Yom Kippur war, or so he said. I have never understood why anyone would invade another country whilst all the bars were shut. Never the less, he did rise to the rank of captain and was used to having his orders obeyed. I was used to questioning; I could foresee a problem.

I did not voice my annoyance but just let my body language seethe. All of the meeting was about was how to write things in the book. He could have written it but chose not to.

“And lastly, we all need to be careful when handling money, understand?”

“Yes.” said Dave and Diane in stereo. I felt this was good advice at any time, after all it was a commandment, if that is what he implied.

“Bob, you understand?”

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I was busy watching a surfer and answered, “Yes, I understand how they can surf like that, but how do they film them? Oh yes, be careful with…”

“Money.”

“Money, that’s it. Can I go back to bed now?”

“Of course, you deserve it and thank you.”

“No, thank you. Meetings are far better than sleep.” During my teaching career there were an escalating amount. I wanted to have a meeting about the meetings but nobody agreed. The other 2 sniggered behind their hands as I marched away.

If I needed an example of how no 2 nights were the same then the second would be up there. For every yin there is a yang.