So for a good few months now, I've been thinking I ought to be writing a diary/blog of my work experiences. And today just made me decide I had to begin it. Today I found myself climbing across the roof between two windows in order to get into a locked room... but I get ahead of myself.
This blog is being resurrected, for myself mainly, as the diary of a Guest House waitress and cleaner, because sometimes what I hear and see there amuses me.
Needless to say, in order to preserve privacy in case anyone stumbles across this account, I shall be using false names for those people and places involved. But let me introduce you to those main characters, just the same.
Katherine: Owner of The Apple Guest House, and breakfast cook.
Trevor: Husband of Katherine, also works at The Apple.
Elsie: Daughter of Katherine, also works at The Apple.
Myself: Waitress and cleaner
Mary-Jane: Waitress, cleaner and part-time cook.
Francesca: Cleaner
Rosy: Waitress and cleaner
Kia: Waitress and cleaner
Marmaduke: Dog number one.
Donner and Blitzen: Dogs two and three.
The Apple is red brick, and sits on a very busy road - let's call it Water Street - and is usually mostly full. It's quite large, with two sides of about eight rooms: A-side and B-side. Ivy crawls up the front, and it backs onto a garden of long grass and old trees. A flat is attatched to B-side, which Mary-Jane lives in, and the back third of the guest house is Katherine and Trevor's living space. When you go in the front door, the door creak-slams behind you. The front hallway has a dark red carpet and a pale rug. It smells of air freshener and someone else's perfume. To the right is a small table stacked with taxi cards and maps. There is an electronic bell button attatched to it. When you press it, it buzzes, and in the back recesses of Katherine's living spaces you hear the muffled sound of a recorded clock-bell going off. A side door opens to admit a member of staff. Welcome to The Apple.
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