Before the shift.

09:00.

When I notice the time on my phone, I get up and start getting dressed. I put on my blue chef trousers, pull a big black T-shirt over my head, and go into the bathroom to do my hair. Nothing fancy. Tie back the hair fairly tightly with a hairband and secure any extra bits from my fringe with some pins. I think back to the time when I put on a paisley bandana for my first day at the job. I wince at the embarrassment. I’m sure some chefs can pull it off. But my god, I know I don’t.

I put on my trainers – my clogs are waiting for me at the restaurant – get my bag, and check I’ve got everything: my knives which I’d taken home for a much-needed sharpening, check. Water bottle, check. My notebook? Of course, I’d left that at the restaurant last night. I grab the keys to the restaurant and put them in my left front pocket. Phone, my keys, yes. I glance in my bag to check if there’s anything else I need. Umbrella is in there, painkillers, pads, just in case. Nice. Ready to go.

Oh no wait!

I come back, grab a Sharpie, and put it in my front right pocket. That was close. Now we’re good.

When I step outside, it’s a mild, cloudy day. I don’t feel like listening to anything during my twenty-minute walk to work today, so I calmly let my mind wander as I make my way to the restaurant.

It’s a Friday. I don’t know how many reservations we have exactly, but I expect it’s going to be busy. All I can wish for is that the orders will come in at a fairly even, staggered pace. And not too many takeaways, hopefully. I do my best to make this hope more concrete: I’m sure the orders will come in nice and evenly. I’m sure there won’t be any ridiculous orders. And even if all goes wrong, I’m sure I’m going to be controlled, efficient, organised, and on top of everything, no matter what happens.

Good one.

My mind wanders over to the task list I wrote last night. I remind myself of the things that will have to be done first. Better get the spring onion oil on first. While that’s lightly bubbling away, I can prep the other things needed for the sauce base. I’ll be glad to get that out of the way early on to get on with the other things. Although wait, I also need to get ahead on the dessert, it needs to get made ASAP so it can chill sufficiently before service. Unless someone else has more capacity to do that today. Who’s in today again? But in any case, probably best I get started with that then… no I swear that traffic light has been red for an absolute age now, come on – ah here we go.

I check my phone. We’re in good time. No surprise there. I examine my right hand. The hard skin on my right index finger is going strong, but the spot by my knuckles is still feeling a little sore under pressure after a long session of finely chopping kilos of onions and shallots yesterday. Oh well, at least that’s done for today. I check that the plaster on my elbow is still firmly attached. That will teach me to not just mindlessly rest my elbow on a surface when someone had only just removed a hot pan from the spot seconds before. Silly woman.

Two shifts down this week, two more to go. I slept pretty well last night, and my feet and legs aren’t feeling sore today at all, thankfully. Only today and tomorrow then. And then a glorious day off on Sunday. What a treat. After the last weekend which had been nice but fairly active, this one’s going to be relaxed. The Sunday lie-in is fixed. That ain’t budging. That’s etched into my schedule. And then I might buy a bunch of fresh vegetables at my nearest grocer and make a simple, healthy little meal to stock me up on some nutrients. And bread! Let’s get good bread from the bakery on Sunday. Love it. Weekend sorted.

I have reached the street of the restaurant now. As I walk up to the door, my mind moves away from my weekend plans and gets settled in restaurant mode. I peer through the windows. I’m the first one there. I fish out the keys from my left front pocket, and after the obligatory technical wiggling and pushing, I get the door open and step inside.

I turn on the switches, the lights go on, and the monotonous low hum of the extractor sets in. The noise will blend out throughout the day. But there is nothing more satisfying than the moment when you turn it off at the end of the night and are left with an almost absurdly peaceful silence.

Clogs on, apron on, fresh towel tucked to my side, I get out my knives, glance over the task list of the day, and start taking stock of the service fridge just as another chef comes through the door and greets me with a cheerful “Morning!”.

I turn on the gas hob and fill up a small pot with water for coffee. Nothing fancy, just a cheap instant coffee. And a little sugar for me. Does the job.

The day has begun.