It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

So has Yuletide arrived at the Chatsworth. That’s what they’ve been warning us about as long as I can remember — if you for some reason don’t happen to like Christmas this place is not for you. Well, luckily I happen to like it very much, but we’ll see whether my feelings will have changed after two months of constant Christmas spirit. Yesterday after breakfast the decorator a.k.a “Father Christmas” started to decorate the restaurant, and by dinner time there were Christmas lights, fake icicles, poinsettias, glass balls, and spruce branches. I kind of liked it, but then again, IT’S OCTOBER. I also started to think if that really is someone’s profession? A Christmas decorator? What does he do all year long, he’s like Santa Claus, he’s got nothing to do! Or perhaps he spends the whole year planning the next Christmas. Or perhaps he’s just a decorator, and does other stuff, too. It has to be so. Ah, peace of mind. At least they’re not playing Christmas songs yet, however, my head is quite good at it. Every time I see the ornaments: “Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la laa, la la la la! 'Tis the season to be jolly…” To be jolly for two months? When it’s chaotic at work for we don’t have enough waiters? Everyone’s going, except Armand, Jatta, Marika, and myself. Even the new Frenchies are going home just in time for Christmas. The old Frenchies are gone and now replaced with new ones. So we’ve had six French boys here so far, four of whom called Thomas. How is that even possible? It’s not. It is (French accent now) impossible. But it’s true. Anyway, I have my family and some friends coming over in January, which might make it a bit better, you know, having something concrete to look forward to.

Yesterday was not my day. On Sunday night the time changed so we had to turn our clocks back one hour. I thought, alright, no problem, even if it went wrong, although it won’t, I’d only be at work too early. For once I was having the perfect morning, peacefully drinking tea and listening to music without a hurry ever in sight. I’ve bought a kettle and a bright red teapot! Words cannot describe the joy it brings to pop the kettle on in the morning, and have hot tea with Tesco semi skinned milk and Demerara sugar. I don’t know what that is, actually. Let me just google it. Brace yourselves:

"Unlike brown sugar, which is just refined white sugar lightly bathed in a bit of molasses, Demerara sugar is a large-grained, somewhat crunchy, raw sugar with origins in Guyana (a colony formerly called Demerara). Because of the rising popularity of Demerara over the years this particular type of sugar is now produced in Mexico, India, Hawaii, among other countries. Demerara is a light brown, partially refined, sugar produced from the first crystallization during processing cane juice into sugar crystals. Unlike brown sugar, which has the added molasses flavor, Demerara has a natural caramel-like flavor that hasn’t been refined out. This lends warm caramel notes to whatever you add the sugar. Also, Demerara sugar is also referred to as Turbinado sugar in many markets, which has more to do with how the sugar is processed in turbines, than where it originates."

OK. I'm much wiser now. Totally. Suddenly, Jatta comes knocking at my door: “Are you coming?”. Ummm… Excuse me what? “Yeah, everyone’s already there and José (our head waiter) asked me to go get you.” The end of my perfect morning. It wasn’t really pleasant to squeeze everything I was going to do in 45 minutes into 10 minutes, especially knowing what lies ahead. Breakfast-lunch-dinner. No time to fix anything (nor eat) before the lunch is done. Apparently, my clock had automatically changed the time AFTER I had changed it manually, so here we go, two hours back. I even made sure the automatic time change was off before I went to bed. And it was. That’s what you get when all you’ve got is a digital clock (my mobile) and nobody or nothing to check the correct time from. Never trust a digital clock on a day like that. I was easily forgiven because that particular day is the one they expect people to show up at the wrong time.

It kept getting better. Out of the blue, they started to complain about my hair. That I should wear it up, in a more tidy way so it’s not on the plates. FYI it’s never been on the plates. Quite understandably I had no time to do it the way I normally do in the morning, so I just had it in a high ponytail. Normal. But I went straight to the toilet to put it up, and managed to stumble through the breakfast service. Then, before the lunch José went: “What’s happened to your hair?”. Yes, I was well aware of the fact it looked a bit messy after hoovering the restaurant, running to my room to eat a banana to avoid starving, and running back to avoid being late again. I had no time to do anything to anything. So, I went to tidy it up. This time I put it in a ponytail in the back of my head instead of the top of my head. Tidy. After a while the same lady who had started the complaining said: “Vilma, could you put your hair up again, please?” Oh. So I put it up again, in a different way than in the morning, and asked her nicely if it was alright. Yes, it’s alright now. And then she said I shouldn’t give her an attitude if she asks me to do something like that. Give her an attitude? GIVE HER AN ATTITUDE? I wasn’t giving her any attitude. I wasn’t trying to be a rebel by wearing my hair in “the wrong way” on purpose! She also used the word “unfortunately” referring to me having long hair. What amazes me the most is that I’ve been wearing my hair in a ponytail every single day for over a month, and no one has said there’s anything wrong with it. Not even HER, and she has seen me many times. Today, all I did, was wore it a bit higher than usually, and o lo lo what a mess! But from now on I’ll have to wear my hair up, in a bun. Crazy. A storm in a teacup. 

Just click “Play” (This is the only way to make you listen to it)

Just A Little Video I Made

Leftovers Is What I Want

So, I'm in a pub called The Wheatsheaf, which is near the library that didn't have a WiFi. Makes perfect sense, doesn't it? I need the internet — let's go to the pub! The table is nice and sticky. I don't know whether I should buy a drink or something, is it wrong to just rudely use their WiFi? There's something wrong with the internet connection back at the hotel, in other words, there's no connection. And no one knows when it's coming back.

On Sunday night at twenty to two I caught myself sitting on my bed with my laptop open eating Nutella straight out of the jar with a disposable fork. I was thinking, what the heck am I doing? I still can't answer that, it shall stay as a mystery. Of course, just to be clear, the only reason I have a jar of Nutella in my room is that it's the only thing to put on a bread you can keep unrefrigerated since I don't have a fridge, and it's not cold enough by the window yet. Anyway, I had a majestic one night and three days off! Monday morning was the basic day-off morning. Nothing interesting about it. Although Monday wasn't just a normal day off, it was a "Holiday"— to be precise the first day ever in my life I'm getting paid for seriously doing nothing. Will do. I got out of bed after 12 o'clock, went down to have some lunch leftovers of the hotel guests for breakfast. A burger, chips and a piece of banoffee pie. Yes. Banana and toffee. BANOFFEE. (I didn't get it until someone explained to me.) For breakfast. It's not always as unhealthy, though. We eat all the extra food. All the food they don't eat. The veggies they leave. The spare desserts, that's my favourite part! Sometimes the food is really delish. (Urban Dictionary: Delish: A shorter form of saying 'Delicious' This tastes delish. Mmm, mmm, delish. Sorry I saw that in an ad today and couldn't resist XD) For instance the ceramic hot pot of potatoes, aubergine, and tomato topped with goat cheese, so yummy. That was the best dinner I've had here so far, I'm still dreaming about it every night. Well just kidding, I'm not. But it was lovely. 

I bought a pair of portable mini speakers for I'm not coping with the laptop sound quality any longer. Unfortunately the sound quality didn't improve much cause I was being too mingy, but at least I can take those babies anywhere, and plug them to my iPod. Such fun! Oh god, where did THAT come from? I still refuse to admit having been watching too much Miranda. "Such fun!" is one of her mother's favourite phrases.

On Tuesday we had a miniature adventure with Yago as we got on a train and went to Lewes, a little town not too far away. It was very nice there, if it wasn't for the sea I'd prefer living in Lewes! They have a medieval castle there with a fantastic landscape from the towers. Now I sound like a tourist guide. But believe me it was fantastic! And a massive thank you to whoever controls the weather. You couldn't possibly have a better weather in England in October. I'm enjoying the English autumn, but funnily enough, the tree leaves don't really change colour (or if they do the new colour is brown, how uncreative is that). They just fall off leaving the trees looking somehow surprised, like "Oh, me leaves fell off!" Yes, you have to do the accent while you read. It's good to get some distance to work, completely forget that it's what I'm here for. Well it isn't all I'm here for. Actually, it isn't at all what I'm here for. I'm here to live. This is most likely the best thing I've ever done, and I'm so happy to be feeling the way I do.

Waiting at the Brighton Train Station

Lewes

Ok, I'm going to get that drink. My guilty conscience took over.

Oh and you might have to listen to the song of the day on Youtube because something's changed here, and I'm too lazy to sort it out now. :D (It's fixed!)

Johnny Flynn & The Sussex Wit - Leftovers

Brighton Yesterday

Instead of music here's 30 seconds of the sea swelling, it's bad quality but let's pretend it's artistic: 

Where The Roses Grow

Call me pathetic, but I'm very proud of myself. Last week I finally managed to take the bull by the horns: I went to the bank in order to open an English bank account, which is quite useful if I want to get paid. The payday is always the 3rd Thursday of the month so, on top on everything, I was early! Not like the usual me. Opening the account was much easier than I thought. (I don't know what I was thinking in the first place...) I stepped into Lloyds, and told the gentleman behind the counter I need to open a bank account but I have no idea what to do next. "OK, no problem! I'll get someone for you!" I'll get my debit card in a week. And the lady he got me was so friendly, she told me they usually have their staff Christmas party at Chatsworth. Oh okay, see you then, Gem! I'll be serving you turkey and whatever I'll be serving you. Once I got my national insurance number sorted today, the only thing missing is an English telephone number. I had to go to Brighton, to an "Evidence of Identity" interview. How scary does that sound? I took a train, that was the quickest way. The misty fields from the train window, ah. The first thing I noticed was that whereas Worthing is flat, Brighton is full of uphills and downhills. I saw a grown-up man eating sweets while walking which is a sign of internationality. And one weird thing, though it has nothing to do with anything: here unbelievably many women wear leggings as normal trousers. With a t-shirt. With a jumper. So that their bum shows. You can't do that, can you? They are not normal trousers! I think I'll post some Brighton photos tomorrow — it was SO foggy! And it was raining, or actually it was more like someone had been spraying water with a spray water bottle, plus a couple of bigger drops every three meters. I gave up using an umbrella after about 10 minutes because a) almost none of the locals had one and it made me feel hopelessly stupid b) it wasn't much help cause the water was IN THE AIR rather than falling from the sky c) I'm not made of sugar anyway.

On Wednesday I bought a little red rose in M&S to have at least something living in my room. I placed it on the windowsill, it looks well nice sitting there. Even though I have to move it every time I want to sit on the windowsill. I hope it will survive the harsh climate conditions of my room and stay alive, otherwise it would be just sad. Outside the leaves are starting to fall off the trees, and I saw children excitedly stomping some mushrooms with their feet. Shops are full of Halloween stuff.

I'm looking forward to November 7! I'm going to Brighton again to see Blaine Harrison... pardon me... the Mystery Jets. I'm going to see the MYSTERY JETS. Yeah. That's it. There are so many concerts in Brighton (not to even mention London) I can't stand it. The Brits are such lucky bastards and they don't even know! So far Sue was happy to give me the day off, but I've heard she may not always be like that in case you keep requesting and requesting. Speaking of which, someone requested me I'd post some photos of my daily life, the hotel, work, etc. Well. I still haven't taken my camera to work, but I'll share at least some photos to ease your pain. I promise there will be more!

Take Me Where The Rose Grow - Mystery Jets

We Are Far From Home But We're So Happy

So October came. It made me think of what people keep telling me: you have to seize every moment because time goes fast. In a snap of the fingers. It's such a cliché I barely allow myself to write it, but after all it's the only way to capture what I'm trying to say. Maybe that's exactly why it's a cliché. It's the only way to say it so people have to use it. I finally understand I'm here. I am here, RIGHT NOW, soon it's five months, then four months, then three. Tick tick tick. It took me three weeks to realise. While hoovering the restaurant (or taking Henry The Hoover for a walk, as you wish) yesterday I started thinking deep cause it takes such a long time and it's so boring. A year ago I was still in school, the hardest part was still ahead. We were planning a trip to Madrid with a friend of mine. I had no idea where I'd be in a year's time. Now I'm in England, hoovering a restaurant floor. How on earth did that happen?

I noticed it's been four days since my last post! I know, in general it's not much so wipe the grin off your faces, but I know myself, and to me it actually means something. I haven't felt the need to write so everything is just alright. If you don't hear from me for a while you need not worry, I'm not dead, I'm quite the opposite. I'm getting used to being here. I've heard it might get tougher once the novelty wears off, though. But why worry about it now? This morning was the best I've had, ten and a half hours of sleep, sweet dreams. I felt happy getting up — the night and the morning off in a row works wonders, especially a very nice night. Besides, I'm not the New Girl anymore (or "New Face" as someone called me). Today I had my lunch = breakfast in the staff room, and what did I find there: the Finns have arrived and taken my place! Now that I think about it, earlier this morning while still lying in bed there was a moment I thought I heard some very familiar-sounding language been spoken in the alley. I thought I had possibly gone mad because the girls weren't supposed to be here yet. Also the French boys have come here after me so that makes five people newer than me. They are crazy, by the way, the Frenchies. But enough with that... They don't know almost any English so I was helping one of them to take the orders, and it was so endearing to catch a glimpse of what he'd wrote down. Crumble eggs. Mushuum. Something like that. He'll get there.

Oh, one more little-big thing! I'm starting to run out of the hair products I brought with me from Finland. I went to Boots, and after the next shower my hair will be officially international. Hmp, I wanted to say British but the sodding Aussie hairspray ruined everything.

This is my new mantra:

Of Monsters & Men - From Finner