O-week, The Women's College
I went down to breakfast this morning, expecting breakfast as usual. I went to get cereal and was confronted with plastic plates, flimsy, always difficult to disengage from the one below. Then went to the kitchen to find a spoon. To find – plastic cutlery. I looked round in despair and saw that the stainless steel cutlery was hidden under a napkin. Started to pull a spoon out. And was told I could not. At which point I dashed the plate of cereal to the bench and gave up on breakfast.
I always expect things to continue in their accustomed ways and when things go badly against my expectation, I find it quite difficult. But more to the point, I displayed my anger to the kitchen staff: unforgivable… And as I went my way, considering the ways in which I make life hard for myself, I know I want to be dead than ever in nursing home, where if one is not nice (and I am not) then the staff feel no obligation to humour you, spare you humiliation..
(The photo is from yesterday. A lovely day. Our girls had had the John's freshers over for breakfast - double the number of people for breakfast, double the washing up. This morning for a repeat exercise with another college, the staff were presumably adamant there would be no washing up and on offer were the flimsiest plastic spoons available. I will not be using them, but quite what I will do the next time I am confronted with a plastic spoon here, I am unsure.)
Amazing that a plastic spoon can curdle my day.
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