We had some huge changes in personnel over the last few weeks but even with the fresh faces of new staff, KAF remains pretty much the same; some food was good, more food was bad, my workmates made inane comments and a Surf lost it’s wheel.
Changing of the Guard
We said goodbye to about 1/2 of our staff over the last month or so as their contracts came to an end and they moved on to other things. These folks had all spent from 2 1/2 to 4 years in KAF which is enough for anyone (I write as I embark on year 5…I’m a fuckin’ idiot). We had quite a cast of characters. The great thing about the people who choose to work in a shithole like this is that they’re all hanging around the edges of the “normal” bell-curve. Whatever else you can say about KAF-rats, we’re memorable personalities. While there were a couple of the normal interpersonal incompatibilities on our team, we shared a unique experience, it was never boring and we saved some coalition lives in the process. Best of luck to Sky, Randy, Lou, Beth, Andre, Sly, Tom, Donny, Dave and Jim as you begin new and less smelly adventures.
Welcome to the new bunch of guys, six of whom are Aussies. They’ve lowered the average age of our team by about 20 years while increasing the prevalence of mispronounced vowels significantly. It’s great to get some new, enthusiastic blood on the team but their ability to fill out paperwork without reaching for their reading glasses and disinterest in our talk of prescriptions and colonoscopies are just plain weird.
L, and her husband R, also departed today for a very extended vacation to set up house in the States. She’ll be returning only to cover K’s time off and he’s leaving KAF permanently to run his business in Houston. While we’ll all miss the opportunities to mock her use of words like lorry and dustbin, Britain’s stupid electrical standard and A4 paper, we’ll be okay without R’s tales of the fresh strawberries, gourmet food, unicorns and rainbows at Camp Lindsey. Have fun, kids!
Talk of the Town
Me: “I didn’t mind being here for New Year’s. It’s always seemed like such an arbitrary, contrived celebration to me”.
D: “Oh, I don’t know. I like the way we pause to look back on noteworthy events of the past year…I can’t remember any at the moment, but you know what I mean.”
L: “I couldn’t believe it when I was out driving last night. There were these US army blokes out running. There were about 20 of them and 2 more..”
Me: “So, like, 22?”
L: “Fuck off. No. I mean like 10 running on either side of the road and 2 right in the middle of the road. What the hell was up with that group of assholes?”
Me:“What is the collective noun for a group of assholes? You know, like a gaggle of geese…a what of assholes?”
D: “It’s called a platoon.”
At the Cambridge:
D: “The pie was pretty good; the crust was soggy but you could get through it”
Me:”And you see that as a positive review”
D: “Well, yeah. You know those pig ears you can buy for your dog? How, after the dog chews on ’em, they get soggy and have a layer of slime on them but are still tough as leather? The crust is usually like that.”
At the Niagara:
Me: “Goddamn, the line at the short order bar was slow. There’s one guy running back and forth serving everyone. I want the job of the other guy who just stands there watching everyone else do the work.”
M: “Don’t you already have it?”
Me: “Touche, asshole”.
Upon tasting the chili at IH:
L: “This shite is just awful. You HAVE to try it.” And we did.
L shows up at the table with fried food and two desserts”
L: (laughing) It’s fat fucker night”
Next, night, L shows up at the table with three desserts:
Me: “Is it fat fucker night again?”
L: “Fuck off”
I really don’t understand British holidays.
Food for Thought
Even I know that briefly immersing a hard boiled egg in cold water after it’s cooked will make it immeasurably easier to peel.Why oh why can’t you do this Northline? Watching D’s blood pressure spike every breakfast as he wrestles with those impossible shells is quite frightening. And there’s is nothing more icky than crunching down on an errant bit of shell while you try to enjoy the egg’s salty goodness. Not to mention the waste of perfectly good egg that is seemingly welded to the shell.