A Night In The Life Of Lockdown Pizzas

Kick off is at five and I can see people outside at the door trying to get in. I used to have it closed but unlocked in the half hour before I began and as I did my prep but it soon became evident that people were keen on disturbing me in search of cake, pies and bread. As I’m more concerned with wanting to do my prep than help them not wait half an hour, the door is now locked. I avoid their pleading, desperate and starved eyes. I chop tomatoes. I realise everything else is still plentiful from last night. Pizza base count – only twenty. It’s Wednesday, twenty is probably enough. Prep done. Time to make eye contact and make the shrugged sorry shoulder gesture, spin my hand with pointed finger to signify the turning of something – in this instance time – and hold up five fingers for five o’clock. I wonder if they’ll come back in five minutes instead.

First person through the door decides to make a bad joke about getting a receipt just to check I didn’t put £300 through instead of £3 before waiting uncomfortably for the receipt. I decide not to put her out of her misery and tell her there’s a £45 contactless limit. It’s not because shes distrustful she wants me to know as she laughs nervously. I realised I haven’t cut any mushrooms and don’t have many pizza bases pre-passatered, perhaps starring at hungry customers trapped outside was not the best use of my time. I’m starting to feel a little heartburn from the sliver of walnut cake I just had, working in a bakery is not good for my health. First pizza takeaway sale and it’s two double cheeseburgers. I was vegan once.

My mate has just turned up with some official Lockdown Pizzas merchandise. It’s only taken four months and we close in less than three weeks but I’m now proudly sporting a red T-shirt with Lockdown Pizzas in black on the back and a black hoody with the same on the back but in red. They’ve put a space in Lock down but at least it’s spelt right. This might not be a co-operative or upholding any of the ideals I like to still believe I hold but it’s always good to be sporting the red and black. The fact these colours hide most of the likely ingredients I’ll cover myself in is simply a bonus.

That didn’t quite go to plan. I was hoping to have time to write a quick paragraph of each hour but the night turned out pretty busy and as it’s just me heroically working away, I barely got a chance to think let alone write anything. I’m sure there were all sorts of witty observations all throughout the night but they’re now lost in the ether of nothingness and non-existence. Unless time isn’t linear of course which would mean they’re happening now and always, both of which concepts wouldn’t exist either surely. I digress.

I messed up two orders tonight. One I realised I had done so as I put the pizzas in the boxes, vocalising my realisation as it came to me with an “Oh fuck” which was followed by me looking at the man and his asking quite intuitively whether I had forgotten the chips. He was fine about it, he could see how busy I was. The other time was right at the end I was probably about fifteen minutes late but they were fine about it too as they could also see how busy I was. People can be alright sometimes. It’s quite refreshing for this not to be a piece complaining about or making fun of customers as would be expected. Coincidentally with tonight being a night I attempted a running commentary, we actually sold out for the first time. Usually I have loads of bases in reserve but a mixture of me being slow to remind the guy in the bakery who makes them and him being slow to make them meant tonight was a special night. Amusingly the only person I had to turn away though was the actual guy who makes the bases as he thought he would pop in for one on his break. He says he’ll make one hundred for me tomorrow.

We have less than three weeks left and it will be the end of this little experiment. I’m alway keen on trying new things and now that I have a tshirt, hoody and scooter – which was only ever used a handful of times – I’ll probably have to come back next year and do it again. Saying that, this holiday I’m planning can’t come soon enough. There will be a lot of sleeping.

Being Human

I must begin with a retraction. I suggested I was hooted, or claxoned, at by two cars yesterday and that I thought not only were the two people being arseholes, that they must surely have been locals too. I was aware that I may have been jumping to conclusions but I was in the mood to do it anyway. It turns out then that I was wrong. One of the guys in the bakery today asked me if I realised it was him hooting at me and it turns out the second incident, the one I enjoyed, not the one which involved the road rage, was not as it first seemed. Probably not as I interpreted it would me more fitting. It’s amazing how often two people can experience the same situation in completely different ways, or people take offence to someones manner when the other person is oblivious to what they were doing. In this incident I jumped to the conclusion it was some ignorant local being an idiot but really there was only one idiot there, the guy from the bakery obviously. Let’s hope I learnt something from yesterday or the only conclusion can be that there is but one arsehole.

I’m trying to think what if anything else I can retract from previous pieces. Surely in over two hundred and fifty pieces I’ve talked a lot of shit, but how much of it was inaccurate and ignorant. The title of this whole blog suggests I misunderstand many things so not only am I likely to have talked a lot of shit over these months but the hooting incident above suggests I’m simply living up to the expectations of the name. I make observations – locals are idiots – I make misunderstandings – it turns out they’re not.

I was listening to something on woke people and anti-woke people today. I would rather eat my own toes than class myself as either of those two things but what they were discussing was the absolutist stances both sides take and while their targets may change their methods and understanding, for example good guys and bad guys, was very similar. Almost dogmatic like religion. I could criticise them but judging by yesterdays incident I’m no different. To generalise a whole group of people, who have done me no actual harm that I know of, and blame this whole group for the actions of one person is just utterly ridiculous. Why do we do it. Why do I do it. To make sense of the world? Am I that simplistic? Are such crude boxes required for my mind to be comfortable. People are ridiculous. I am ridiculous. But I’m human. And fallible. As is life.

A Brexit Hangover

While yesterday may have been a day for breaking down contrived differences and the fences built in their wake, today feels like a day to take the piss out of Brexiteers. After last nights Brexit celebrations in London I skimmed through a live recording of the event online, lets say fifteen to twenty minutes of my life were dedicated to it, and made some notes. It is worth saying to start with that the whole event seemed highly amusing if anything, and while I don’t doubt there were some conditioned subjective observations; there were moments I found myself observing them as just human beings, not necessarily positively, but at least not first and foremost as Brexiteer monsters.

“Watching the Brexiteers sing We Are The Champions makes them look like spoilt little children.
Counting down like it’s a New Year celebration.
The fake clock sound because Big Ben’s broken and they can’t afford to fix it.
Sad bastards.
I’m so happy I’m not there.
Or them.
A tin pot 19th century military brass band playing the introduction to what turned out to be a 1950s Christmas crooner rendition of the national anthem.
Nigel Farage belting out his pre-memorised song sheet.
The singers out of time as the final line is stretched out.
The Union Jacks and St George’s cross blowing in the wind.
Farage legs it less than five minutes after the clock strikes 12 (Brussels time).
‘Brexit Celebration’ left on the screen to remind the crowd why they’re there.
A few of the crowd break out with Auld Lang Syne, it is New Year after all.
Some hip hip hoorays.
Chants of “Nigel”, an encore perhaps?
The sound of the bagpipes like a knife to the heart.
A multicoloured 10 Downing Street dressed up like a circus tent.
I bet Farage is desperate for this to be over so he stops having to hang out with those morons.”

I was tempted to rewrite it but thought best to give you the raw notes. Some a little harsh I admit and I hope it is entirely objective but there was something really pathetic about the whole thing. I’m in no doubt I would have said exactly the same thing had they been a bunch of pro-EU supporters gloating over something they also don’t understand. But that’s done now, I’ve had my fun and will return to the moral high ground of merely attacking the fences and those who build them. Certainly more fun being a dick though.