February 3rd: Thank fish its Fryday

I love fish and chips, and I like my new work hours, here’s why:

Today was my first day in my new role.  My new role means I’ll be working 9-5, Monday to Friday. Today I got a hug from normality. It’s not something I have been chasing. I was happy enough plodding along in my shift work. However when offered the chance to get some balance and regularity back in your life, it’s tough to turn down.

Since I moved out of my parent’s house and moved into ‘the real world’ I have always worked odd hours. I have had no complaints; some of my greatest memories have been late at night or early mornings.  Some of my best friendships have been forged during unsocial hours.

So, with my first regular, normal, standard, ordinary day at work completed. I rush home, in rush hour traffic. I walk through the door, and before I can take my shoes off, the Wife asks me if I fancy fish & chips. Of course I fancy fish & chips, I love fish and chips! There is a brand new Fish and Chip shop within walking distance of the flat. Shoes back on and out the flat with £10 note in hand and the dinner order in my head.

As much as I dislike religion, you have to love the Catholics/Christians (I’m not entirely sure of the difference) and any other faith/ belief structure that doesn’t eat meat on Fridays. Without knowing they have created a breakaway faction with a stronger pull. The fish & chip brigade. The cockneys love this Friday obsession, and I love the cockneys for making this an accepted rule.

So when my wife said ‘Do you fancy fish and chips, I said yes immediately, for two reasons.
1. I have just finished my long, normal, regular 9-5 shift like normal regular people, so was in no mood or mind set to cook, and
2. I love fish and chips! It’s a free pass to fast food!

Fish and chips hold a strong plaice in my heart. My first foray into the grown up world was making chips for a fast food restaurant.  I would start at 7am Saturday morning (unsociable hours) and my first task would be to bring 10 sacks of potatoes from the store room to the restaurant kitchen. The spuds then needed to be emptied in to ‘the rumbler’. I have no idea if this is the correct term for this particular machine, but it was always referred to as ‘the rumbler’. After being spun round a rough cylinder - the rumbler - which was basically an industrial peeler, you would open the latch on the front of ‘the rumbler’ and try and catch as many of the clean slippery potatoes as possible in a big black bin. You would then pour the newly cleaned spuds through ‘the chipper’. The same naming ceremony applies to ‘the chipper’ as it does to ‘the rumbler’. It’s just what it was. It was Z shaped potato slide with big blades awaiting the tumbling spuds. As you poured the potatoes into the top chute the sharp blades would chop them, with structured uniformity, into good old fashioned chips. This process was repeated until all 10 sacks had been chipped and placed in to the big black bins and all this before 10am!

 Happy fry day everyone.