Read Online Life Behind Bars by Linda Tweedie - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Linda Tweedie
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in.
Turning to speak there was no one there. She then had the sensation that
someone, or something, was trying to hold her down, and she actually had a
slight burn on her forehead from candles which had still been alight on the
table. She was extremely frightened and it took some time to calm her
down.
Due to the number of sightings
throughout the building and also because it was good publicity, we arranged to
have an exorcism or ‘cleansing’ carried out. Now I don’t know what I
expected, but there certainly was no one ‘pinned to the ceiling,’ nor ‘heads
round the wrong way.’ The television was still showing the footie and
there was no mention of ‘Caroline stepping away from the white light. ’
A fairly ordinary looking
gentleman walked through the building swinging some sort of incense burner and
muttering. He got to the back door, held out his hand for the money and
left! Well I can tell you— was I bloody mad! I thought I had been
well and truly cleansed, cleansed of a hundred quid! I marched up to the
forge and daredthat fucking ghost to reappear.
Strangely enough his presence has
never been felt since. Maybe the cleansing did work, or maybe it was me!
K. P . . . Nuts!
Over the years I have had
countless kitchen porters (K. P.’s) and they have usually had one thing in
common, apart from drink; they are thick. C’mon, you’d have to be, to
work in those conditions for half the pay everyone else gets. But one
shines out above all the others.
Andy worked for us for probably
ten years. He had been a Master Baker (try saying that quickly,) but
developed an allergy to flour. Personally I think he developed an allergy
to the hours, they interfered with his drinking. Whatever the reason, he
came to join our happy little band. Another misfit in the mix.
Now that I remember, he came to
fill in for his wife, who had a major hangover, certainly worse than his, and
she was on a final, final warning. I think he just stayed and she went
off somewhere else to work.
He could have single-handedly
kept an ambulance-chasing lawyer in silk ties for a year. He was the most
accident prone person I have ever met. During a routine environmental
health visit, the officer asked to see our accident book. She nearly had
a fit and accused us of making it up. It took some convincing we had
not. She advised me to sack him as he was a liability. Well, I
would have had no kitchen staff left if they were sacked on that count!
On a typical day, he put a 12lb
turkey back into the freezer and it promptly fell out and knocked him
out. Christ, the egg on his forehead looked like it had been lain by the
turkey. He skidded and slipped around the kitchen like Bambi on ice and
would grab anyone and anything to steady himself. It was not advisable to
let him near knives, but sometimes you had to. So at frequent times
throughout the day you would hear the plaintive cry.
“Where’s the plasters?
I’m bleeding again.”
Any other member of staff having
a mishap and requiring plasters were invariably out of luck. He once had
so many about his person he looked like a giant Smurf (kitchen plasters are
blue.)
He tried to stop smoking and
bought a months supply of patches. They didn’t work because:
a) he was immune to the
patch theory, he had been wearing so many for so long and
b) he usually had them
round a cut or bruise somewhere else on his body.
Like most kitchens, on busy days
you invariably run out of supplies and the K.P. is the gopher. With Andy
you had to be precise to the point of ridicule. One Saturday we had had a
real run on large Yorkshire puddings stuffed with roast beef and gravy.
To complete the orders, I hurriedly sent Andy off to get more supplies.
He was away for some time and I was getting concerned. Back he came
carrying a large Woolworth’s bag which he emptied onto my work station.
Out fell a dozen family size
Turning to speak there was no one there. She then had the sensation that
someone, or something, was trying to hold her down, and she actually had a
slight burn on her forehead from candles which had still been alight on the
table. She was extremely frightened and it took some time to calm her
down.
Due to the number of sightings
throughout the building and also because it was good publicity, we arranged to
have an exorcism or ‘cleansing’ carried out. Now I don’t know what I
expected, but there certainly was no one ‘pinned to the ceiling,’ nor ‘heads
round the wrong way.’ The television was still showing the footie and
there was no mention of ‘Caroline stepping away from the white light. ’
A fairly ordinary looking
gentleman walked through the building swinging some sort of incense burner and
muttering. He got to the back door, held out his hand for the money and
left! Well I can tell you— was I bloody mad! I thought I had been
well and truly cleansed, cleansed of a hundred quid! I marched up to the
forge and daredthat fucking ghost to reappear.
Strangely enough his presence has
never been felt since. Maybe the cleansing did work, or maybe it was me!
K. P . . . Nuts!
Over the years I have had
countless kitchen porters (K. P.’s) and they have usually had one thing in
common, apart from drink; they are thick. C’mon, you’d have to be, to
work in those conditions for half the pay everyone else gets. But one
shines out above all the others.
Andy worked for us for probably
ten years. He had been a Master Baker (try saying that quickly,) but
developed an allergy to flour. Personally I think he developed an allergy
to the hours, they interfered with his drinking. Whatever the reason, he
came to join our happy little band. Another misfit in the mix.
Now that I remember, he came to
fill in for his wife, who had a major hangover, certainly worse than his, and
she was on a final, final warning. I think he just stayed and she went
off somewhere else to work.
He could have single-handedly
kept an ambulance-chasing lawyer in silk ties for a year. He was the most
accident prone person I have ever met. During a routine environmental
health visit, the officer asked to see our accident book. She nearly had
a fit and accused us of making it up. It took some convincing we had
not. She advised me to sack him as he was a liability. Well, I
would have had no kitchen staff left if they were sacked on that count!
On a typical day, he put a 12lb
turkey back into the freezer and it promptly fell out and knocked him
out. Christ, the egg on his forehead looked like it had been lain by the
turkey. He skidded and slipped around the kitchen like Bambi on ice and
would grab anyone and anything to steady himself. It was not advisable to
let him near knives, but sometimes you had to. So at frequent times
throughout the day you would hear the plaintive cry.
“Where’s the plasters?
I’m bleeding again.”
Any other member of staff having
a mishap and requiring plasters were invariably out of luck. He once had
so many about his person he looked like a giant Smurf (kitchen plasters are
blue.)
He tried to stop smoking and
bought a months supply of patches. They didn’t work because:
a) he was immune to the
patch theory, he had been wearing so many for so long and
b) he usually had them
round a cut or bruise somewhere else on his body.
Like most kitchens, on busy days
you invariably run out of supplies and the K.P. is the gopher. With Andy
you had to be precise to the point of ridicule. One Saturday we had had a
real run on large Yorkshire puddings stuffed with roast beef and gravy.
To complete the orders, I hurriedly sent Andy off to get more supplies.
He was away for some time and I was getting concerned. Back he came
carrying a large Woolworth’s bag which he emptied onto my work station.
Out fell a dozen family size
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