chapter 6

I was not used to drinking during the day. I awoke somewhere around four. At that point the restaurant had no customers and there were only a few customers in the bar.
I had to get up to go to the toilet. I wouldn't say I was hungover, but I didn't feel too clever. I think it was the excess of food so early in the day. I didn't understand why people wanted to eat a dinner at lunchtime.
I emerged from the toilets feeling slightly less bloated and more comfortable.
I brought my belongings in from the car and put them in the lounge area. There was no point in unpacking anything as there was nowhere to put anything anyway. I cleared a little space in the lounge so that I could sit down for a minute. Eating too much was not good for you.
I got out my iPad, answered a few emails, scrolled through Facebook. I was not ready to announce to the world that my wife did not want me anymore. I loved her. I had never loved anyone else! What would I do if I never got back together with her?
The thought sent me straight back to the bar. This time I was determined. I wanted to get very drunk!

I can only vaguely remember tucking into another massive dinner much later in the evening. I can't remember what I ate or if I finished it. I was so drunk, everything was hazy. I had stumbled outside at one point and chatted with the smokers. I'd even smoked one of their cigarettes and I didn't smoke!

In the morning, I found that I had spent the night sleeping on one of the benches in the lounge. It was getting on for nine and I was still in yesterday's clothes. If I was going to make the upstairs of this pub anywhere liveable again, it was going to take a lot of hard work and elbow grease and I had to make a start now!
I was about to get up, freshen up and go looking for some cleaning products when chef appeared with a large cooked breakfast for me. "There we are! Best cure for a hangover," he told me
He left a huge plate of greasy fried food in front of me. I didn't want it, but I could not see anywhere to dispose of it, without him or any of the staff knowing about it and becoming offended.
I took a bite of sausage. It tasted better than it looked. It was even better when it was dipped in the runny egg yolk.
Chef was right, it did clear my head, but I was back to being so overloaded with food that I could hardly move.

The pub and restaurant manager was in today. He had been told by Beverley that I would be coming to stay indefinitely, if I hadn't already arrived. The manager was called Scott and he had asked the regular cleaner to stay on for a few hours to make a start on upstairs.
I supposed I had a lot to discuss with Scott. I had to learn how the place was run. I knew nothing about pubs or restaurants.
I put off going upstairs. I hated cleaning. Learning about the business seemed the easiest option. So I sat down with Scott in a corner of the restaurant to discuss it.
As soon as the doors opened, I was given a pint to drink. I looked to Scott to ask him why.
"Get it down your neck!" He told me, "it's complementary. Take advantage of it. It's one of the perks of working in a pub!"
He had a pint of bitter. "Cheers!" He said.
This didn't seem right. Was his drinking the profits? How much profit did the place make?
Scott showed me the figures. Beverley had left me a good, going concern. I could easily afford to refurbish the living quarters with all this money in. I could open up the lounge again, offer the function room for private parties.
At noon, Scott and I were given a plate each of lasagne, with chips. Scott said the chef liked the staff to 'quality control' his meals. Usually they consumed them out of sight of the customers, but it didn't matter if Scott and I were seen.
I was not sure if I could eat another big meal, but when I started eating, I was surprised how easily the food slipped down. I could not help asking Scott If they cut the portion size in half, they could make a greater profit.
But that was where the paradox lay. They had tried that before. People came because they felt they were getting value for money. They left 'The Wagon' with stuffed bellies and gave generous tips. If they cut the portion sizes, people stopped coming. The few that did come left no tips and no good feedback.
They had increased the portion sizes again and the customers returned, happy.
Scott drank slowly. He was just finishing his first pint by the end of out meal. I must have had three or four in that time. He had eaten only half of his meal... probably a normal portion, whereas I had pushed on and finished with a clean plate. I couldn't eat another thing!
At least I thought I couldn't! I somehow managed to find space for a slice of cheesecake with whipped cream when it was placed in front of me!
Scott advised me to be careful. He'd put on a ton of weight when he first started working here. He had learned to pace himself. He didn't have lunch every day. If he ate lunch, he skipped dinner. If he ate dinner, he skipped lunch.
I, on the other hand found it difficult to say no.
I'd always been taught to finish everything on the plate. My nana reminded me of the starving Africans with their swollen bellies. Think about the wasted food!
After dinner, and after five pints on top of the three I'd had at lunchtime, I ventured up the stairs.
The cleaner had made a good start up here. The bathroom was usable at least!
The living room and dining room were passable. The kitchen needed more work and the master bedroom needed a new mattress before I put it to use. The old one was so stained on the outside, I could hardly imagine what was living on the inside. I resolved to buy one online at some point.
But right now, all I wanted to do was take off my too tight trousers and chill out for five minutes.