lj idol 3 strikes, week 15
Aug. 12th, 2022 04:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stellinasMrs Assumpta Duncannon had worked in Shamrock Bakery for nigh on twenty years, her bread, pies and cakes were legendary in the town of Bundoran, County Donegal.
Cooking was her passion, she especially loved it when someone ordered a special occasion cake, wedding, birthday, anniversary or for some such event. Her scones and butter biscuits melted in the mouth, her sponge cakes, as light as an angel's wings and pies, crispy pastry crusts, rich mouth watering meaty fillings and thanks to her Irish stews, sumptuous soups and hearty breakfasts, Seamus Donnelly was able to make a small corner café.
Now she sat in front of Seamus exclaiming,
''Close down! But this place is always full, how can you close down! ''
Seamus shook his head wearily,
''I'm sorry 'Sumpta, but, 'tis the divil himself I am with the gambling. I lost the bakery and me house, the new owner wants to turn it into a French bistro'',
''French bistro! And what's wrong with a good old Irish stew to be sure!''
So, Mrs Duncannon found herself unemployed for the first time in over twenty years.
That evening at teatime, she was bemoaning her fate to Mr Duncannon.
''It's not just the money, Michael, I love workin' I get to have a bit o' craic with the customers''
''A bit o' gossip ye mean'', replied Michael with a twinkle in his eye.
''It's called taking an interest in the community, Michael Duncannon! Gossip indeed!'' she retorted, puffing out her ample bosom like a strutting pigeon.
Michael leaned over and kissed her cheek,
''Ah now don't ye fret, me darlin', something will turn up, ye'll see''
Mrs Duncannon huffed as she cleared the table while Michael lit his pipe and sat in his comfy, overstuffed armchair to read his newspaper.
''Ah now!'' he exclaimed so suddenly, starting his wife ,who nearly dropped her favourite china teacups,
''What about this darlin;-they'll be wanting a cook at the Brewery, in the canteen''
Mrs Duncannon's face turned puce, ''Now you know I don't hold with the drink, Michael Duncannon!''
''Ach, you don't have to drink the stuff, only feed the workers''
''Well, I'll be thinking it over, so I will. Now put the telly on and let's watch for a wee while''
Michael sighed, resigned himself to another evening of his wife flipping channels every time actors leaned in for a kiss or an ankle was on view. He really wished she would lighten up a little and maybe have a bit of fun for a change.
A week later Mrs Duncannon set off for her first day at Branaghan's Brewery. The manager and owner, Frank Branaghan, was more than happy to acquire her services having been a regular at the bakery. She was very happy with her kitchen, everything she needed and clean as a whistle now that she had given it the Duncannon treatment of course. She had just got her scones and pies out , when the first group of workers stepped into the canteen for a break. She had bacon ,sausages and scrambled eggs in the warmers and ready to take the orders at the counter. A young girl, Mary Reilly, quiet and efficient , appointed to help out in the kitchen, was pouring tea from a huge copper teapot ready for the men to take up as they strolled through.
The swing doors opened and through it traipsed an influx of noisy workers. All the employees were male in this part of the brewery, apart from the office workers who took their breaks in their little lounge above and after the workers, when Mary would prepare a trolley and take up their orders.
''Ah would ye shut the feck up, ye talkin a load of shite Lenny, ye know the team have got a snowball in hell's chance of winning the cup this season!'' shouted Jim MacDonald, a rough ,loudmouth fellow, elbowing his way through to grab his cuppa.
Lenny was not taking that! ''Who you calling a gobshite!? Feck off yeself, ye bastard!''
Suddenly a loud banging attacked their ears and the lads all went silent, looking across the tables, they could see Mrs Duncannon banging a wooden spoon on a big saucepan with sparks flying from her eyes.
''Sweet Mary, sainted Mother of God'' she shouted , crossing herself with the wooden spoon.
'' Can ye not hear yeselves !? I did not come here to hear such filth! James MacDonald indeed, get out of this canteen and come back when ye've a righteous tongue in ye head!'' Ye'll get none of my vittles going into that mouth 'til ye do!''
Jim started to object, but seeing her eyes thought better of it since he was spitting feathers for a cuppa. So into the gent's he went and took two minutes to shout out all the cuss words he could think of to calm himself down. On his return to the canteen, all was subdued as Mrs Duncannon looked on magnanimously.
The lads soon realised that if they wanted to eat well and stay in Mrs D's good graces, they had to curb their tongues. This didn't sit well with some, Jim being one of them, however, Frank would not hear of replacing Mrs D, since her cooking was worth the sacrifice, plus he was out of earshot and could ,'' swear as much as he damn well pleased'' , he chuckled.
Mrs D had brought in a huge, old biscuit tin and had emblazoned, ''Shillin' fer ye Sins'' across it. The lads were told that every expletive would cost them a shilling. Jim was fuming the day he saw it and shouted out such a string of choice words that he took a fiver out of his wallet and stuffed it into the tin ,shouting ,''Worth every feckin' penny, so it was! '' before storming out back to work.
The lads adored Mrs D's cooking and many were happy to sacrifice their language to eat so well, in fact they began to get irritated by Jim and a few others who retaliated. When anyone forgot themselves ready to blurt out a ,''feck'', forgetfully ,the others would cast him a meaningful stare to which he would say, ''I couldn't give a f... Fig Newton!'', eyeing the biscuits on the plate in front of them. And so it went on, the lads often ran to the toilets to shout out a curse or too and many slipped up and the tin grew heavy with their slip ups.
One afternoon ,after lunch, Mrs D was preparing some stew for the next day, when she accidentally scalded her hand on the hot saucepan lid.''Ach, ye bastard !'', she exclaimed loudly just as one of the lads returned to pick up his keys which he had left on the table.
Laughing raucously, he shouted, ''Well! That's a pretty how's ye father, ye shut us up and ye get all the fun!''
Mrs D's face burned as she crossed herself and ask the Virgin for forgiveness, then asked Sean the same.
Sean was a nice lad and laughed ,''Ok Mrs D, it'll be our secret, but just watch it next time ok'' ,tipping her a wink, even she could not resist that cheeky face.
After two weeks, the canteen was actually a much pleasanter place to eat , the lads had to admit , even Jim had reluctantly agreed. One morning Mrs D leaving her shift , proudly donned a magnificent straw hat adorned with flowers. The lads whistled and shouted out ,''Ah ye look a picture Mrs D, ye'd take ducks off water, so ye would''
Blushing slightly , she turned and said ''Thank ye kindly boys, and thank ye fer the new Easter bonnet for Sunday's church service'', she beamed a little too mischievously, as they noticed with open mouths ,the shilling tin empty on the counter.
Then breezing out of the canteen and out of earshot, she whispered under her breath, ''Yes thanks ye bastards!"
Cooking was her passion, she especially loved it when someone ordered a special occasion cake, wedding, birthday, anniversary or for some such event. Her scones and butter biscuits melted in the mouth, her sponge cakes, as light as an angel's wings and pies, crispy pastry crusts, rich mouth watering meaty fillings and thanks to her Irish stews, sumptuous soups and hearty breakfasts, Seamus Donnelly was able to make a small corner café.
Now she sat in front of Seamus exclaiming,
''Close down! But this place is always full, how can you close down! ''
Seamus shook his head wearily,
''I'm sorry 'Sumpta, but, 'tis the divil himself I am with the gambling. I lost the bakery and me house, the new owner wants to turn it into a French bistro'',
''French bistro! And what's wrong with a good old Irish stew to be sure!''
So, Mrs Duncannon found herself unemployed for the first time in over twenty years.
That evening at teatime, she was bemoaning her fate to Mr Duncannon.
''It's not just the money, Michael, I love workin' I get to have a bit o' craic with the customers''
''A bit o' gossip ye mean'', replied Michael with a twinkle in his eye.
''It's called taking an interest in the community, Michael Duncannon! Gossip indeed!'' she retorted, puffing out her ample bosom like a strutting pigeon.
Michael leaned over and kissed her cheek,
''Ah now don't ye fret, me darlin', something will turn up, ye'll see''
Mrs Duncannon huffed as she cleared the table while Michael lit his pipe and sat in his comfy, overstuffed armchair to read his newspaper.
''Ah now!'' he exclaimed so suddenly, starting his wife ,who nearly dropped her favourite china teacups,
''What about this darlin;-they'll be wanting a cook at the Brewery, in the canteen''
Mrs Duncannon's face turned puce, ''Now you know I don't hold with the drink, Michael Duncannon!''
''Ach, you don't have to drink the stuff, only feed the workers''
''Well, I'll be thinking it over, so I will. Now put the telly on and let's watch for a wee while''
Michael sighed, resigned himself to another evening of his wife flipping channels every time actors leaned in for a kiss or an ankle was on view. He really wished she would lighten up a little and maybe have a bit of fun for a change.
A week later Mrs Duncannon set off for her first day at Branaghan's Brewery. The manager and owner, Frank Branaghan, was more than happy to acquire her services having been a regular at the bakery. She was very happy with her kitchen, everything she needed and clean as a whistle now that she had given it the Duncannon treatment of course. She had just got her scones and pies out , when the first group of workers stepped into the canteen for a break. She had bacon ,sausages and scrambled eggs in the warmers and ready to take the orders at the counter. A young girl, Mary Reilly, quiet and efficient , appointed to help out in the kitchen, was pouring tea from a huge copper teapot ready for the men to take up as they strolled through.
The swing doors opened and through it traipsed an influx of noisy workers. All the employees were male in this part of the brewery, apart from the office workers who took their breaks in their little lounge above and after the workers, when Mary would prepare a trolley and take up their orders.
''Ah would ye shut the feck up, ye talkin a load of shite Lenny, ye know the team have got a snowball in hell's chance of winning the cup this season!'' shouted Jim MacDonald, a rough ,loudmouth fellow, elbowing his way through to grab his cuppa.
Lenny was not taking that! ''Who you calling a gobshite!? Feck off yeself, ye bastard!''
Suddenly a loud banging attacked their ears and the lads all went silent, looking across the tables, they could see Mrs Duncannon banging a wooden spoon on a big saucepan with sparks flying from her eyes.
''Sweet Mary, sainted Mother of God'' she shouted , crossing herself with the wooden spoon.
'' Can ye not hear yeselves !? I did not come here to hear such filth! James MacDonald indeed, get out of this canteen and come back when ye've a righteous tongue in ye head!'' Ye'll get none of my vittles going into that mouth 'til ye do!''
Jim started to object, but seeing her eyes thought better of it since he was spitting feathers for a cuppa. So into the gent's he went and took two minutes to shout out all the cuss words he could think of to calm himself down. On his return to the canteen, all was subdued as Mrs Duncannon looked on magnanimously.
The lads soon realised that if they wanted to eat well and stay in Mrs D's good graces, they had to curb their tongues. This didn't sit well with some, Jim being one of them, however, Frank would not hear of replacing Mrs D, since her cooking was worth the sacrifice, plus he was out of earshot and could ,'' swear as much as he damn well pleased'' , he chuckled.
Mrs D had brought in a huge, old biscuit tin and had emblazoned, ''Shillin' fer ye Sins'' across it. The lads were told that every expletive would cost them a shilling. Jim was fuming the day he saw it and shouted out such a string of choice words that he took a fiver out of his wallet and stuffed it into the tin ,shouting ,''Worth every feckin' penny, so it was! '' before storming out back to work.
The lads adored Mrs D's cooking and many were happy to sacrifice their language to eat so well, in fact they began to get irritated by Jim and a few others who retaliated. When anyone forgot themselves ready to blurt out a ,''feck'', forgetfully ,the others would cast him a meaningful stare to which he would say, ''I couldn't give a f... Fig Newton!'', eyeing the biscuits on the plate in front of them. And so it went on, the lads often ran to the toilets to shout out a curse or too and many slipped up and the tin grew heavy with their slip ups.
One afternoon ,after lunch, Mrs D was preparing some stew for the next day, when she accidentally scalded her hand on the hot saucepan lid.''Ach, ye bastard !'', she exclaimed loudly just as one of the lads returned to pick up his keys which he had left on the table.
Laughing raucously, he shouted, ''Well! That's a pretty how's ye father, ye shut us up and ye get all the fun!''
Mrs D's face burned as she crossed herself and ask the Virgin for forgiveness, then asked Sean the same.
Sean was a nice lad and laughed ,''Ok Mrs D, it'll be our secret, but just watch it next time ok'' ,tipping her a wink, even she could not resist that cheeky face.
After two weeks, the canteen was actually a much pleasanter place to eat , the lads had to admit , even Jim had reluctantly agreed. One morning Mrs D leaving her shift , proudly donned a magnificent straw hat adorned with flowers. The lads whistled and shouted out ,''Ah ye look a picture Mrs D, ye'd take ducks off water, so ye would''
Blushing slightly , she turned and said ''Thank ye kindly boys, and thank ye fer the new Easter bonnet for Sunday's church service'', she beamed a little too mischievously, as they noticed with open mouths ,the shilling tin empty on the counter.
Then breezing out of the canteen and out of earshot, she whispered under her breath, ''Yes thanks ye bastards!"
