This Christmas instead of working at the butchers, I worked at a bakers. This is partly because I moved back to London - and partly (mostly) because where possible I try to make my life decisions in accordance to eighteenth century nursery rhymes. Working at the bakery was warmer, easier, and decidedly less dangerous than working at the butchers. It wasn't until I went to collect all the meat for our family Christmas dinner that it even occurred to me that I was missing the butchers. Madness, obviously. To miss the daily, 16 hour struggle of tussling with freezing cold animal flesh, and the misogynistic jokes, and the fucking endless complaints about cups of tea that were definitely, patently, FINE. Total madness. And that's without even factoring in the free cake I get at the bakery.

As soon as I was spotted in the queue (- which was not as long as last year; I prefer to interpret this as a sign that Feller's was less busy and succesful without me, rather than as a sign that Feller's was better organised and less stressful without me) Mitzi came running out with a meat cleaver in one hand and a butcher's coat  in the other, shouting and gesticulating wildly "FI BABE YOU'RE LATE GET YOUR COAT ON". I've been with calm, normal people for so long I didn't immediately recognise this fun joke as classic butcher banter, and hastily began shedding my smart coat and last minute Christmas presents into the arms of my bewildered brother in order to take the knife and coat from Mitzi and join my brothers and sisters in arms at my rightful place behind the meat fridge. Pride swelled in my chest; my posture straightened as a sense of belonging infused my very bones, and my heart soared.

 I realised it was a joke just in the nick of time - I was stepping forwards to take the cleaver from Mitzi but I hadn't got as far as putting the coat on, and I was bustled inside without anyone realising how excited I'd been by the prospect of joining them all again. Thank god, because I'd never have heard the end of it. As it was they were all lovely and kind to me, telling me that they'd missed me and fussing over me even though there was tonnes of work to be done. I was totally delighted. They are all such characters, so exuberant and bawdy and generous and mad and exciting. I really love them. Mr Feller took my hand and very seriously asked me to come back for  Christmas 2014, and I think I will. UNLESS I get offered a role at a candlestick makers, because that would be just too divine intervention-y.