A play is had.
This weekend is my turn to volunteer during the local theater performance. Not anything very lofty but nevertheless, smearing bread with spreads is not without difficulty. How much spread to put on, which to use and not to make it look messy. Yesterday I had my dress rehearsal and tonight's sandwiches should be the bee's knees.
Unfortunately I was too far back to see and hear the play properly but then I had a chance to be the fly on the wall and watch the sub plot. Who went out for a cigarette, who chatted and who forgot to switch off their mobile...
Bob usually mans the station for cleaning glasses and let me tell you, in our region that is where it is all happening. Not having clean glasses to pour the wine, beer or spritzer into is akin to a sin. When he works his double/ triple shifts, he runs the whole time.
Last night four volunteers didn't pitch and it was a case of all hands on deck and nary a territorial spat ( there is a unwritten rule of who does what and who never does that ). Seeing Bob perform the various duties in a bar with such inherent certainty, style and speed made me feel extremely chuffed that he is my husband. I tend to forget that he'd done a year or so managing a pub in London, back in the day...
For some reason the crowds weren't that hungry yesterday and my job of adorning slices of bread was rather cushy. Well, I thought I'd lend my Schatzi a hand and tried to navigate the huddles and pockets of people while at the same time whipping the dirty glasses and empty bottles from the tables...at times I was a tad bit hasty and received an angry growl of sorts. Nobody wants to be parted from the last drop in their glasses.
Of course it is and always will be a group effort and Bob and I just played a small part in the behind the scenes play.
Biggi
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