A few weeks ago, on istagram ….naturally,
I saw a picture of a pint of stout. In the background there were people mourning in a traditional Irish pub.
The caption read:
”In Ireland, after a funeral we celebrate the life of the person in the pub with drinks, stories and happy memories”
That reminded me of that time I was looking for a job in the catering industry in order to practice English…
I had read the job advertisement without completely realizing what kind of environment it was.
I got in touch and, over the phone, I barely understood that the position was: waiter in a family run pub in the countryside near Oxford, accommodation included.
Perfect I thought.
I remember jumping on a train then in a taxi, brimming with joy.
Only when the owner uttered the word “crematorium” did I understand what kind of job I had applied for…
I remember being culture-shocked, I pictured my 22 year old self serving pints to weeping widowers listening to Angel by Robbie Williams over and over again….
I sat through the rest of the interview nodding carelessly having my “memento mori” intertwined with steak pies and draught ales.
I dashed out of the place and just at the end of the road I spotted the chimney of the crematorium..
Time to learn English properly I thought.
I always tell my students to read carefully what the instructions are, what is it that is asked of them in a task….well well well that is a lesson learned the hard way for me.
