Worky work work (part 1)

Its been a long time but I'm back in full time employment, up to my elbows in salad, doing the same sort of factory work I was doing a decade ago.

I'm out in west London. It was rather heartening to hearing that the ladies on the production line were asking after me. I'm the new boy, a novelty cos I'm English, but the guys in the warehouse swear I'm Polish. I laugh it off, saying its cos I've been in London so long.

Explaining away that I'm from Manchester, "ah Man United?", I smile and reply "Bolton Wanderers" and make a mental note to look up what division they're in and if they're playing anyone local soon.

There's a huge range of languages and accents here. In Manchester and Glasgow, it was always pretty homogenous, with even the thickest of accents easily discernable. But here I'm struggling a little. Subtle nuances lost in translation. Simple and limited vocabulary making training and directions take just a little bit longer than I'm used to. I smile and say "no problem".

Its honest and knackering work. When I got home I could barely walk, and was asleep by nine.

It going to take a while to adjust, working the early morning shift and discovering just what time the London Underground actually starts.