Now this was officially the WORST job for the club ever! I've been behind a bar heaving with drunks and with broken cash registers, I've carried the scrum machine into winter lodging, I've moved furniture up and down spiral cases and sold underwear to my grandparents...but none of those times was as bad as this!
To start with, none of the other jobs started at 5 in the morning... It might've snowed during the bandy bar shift, but at least there wasn't heavy traffic aiming to splatter you with sludge. The signs we were putting up today weren't heavy, but made up for it with being too small and requiring magic fingers to assemble. Cat stranglers: too short, map reading ability at early hours: not satisfactory.
Afterwards, as the Scotsman drove to work, I happened to drowse off for a few minutes. In the middle of this highly enjoyable activity, someone called my mobile and shouted They got the baby, they got the baby! Who? What? When? Yes, my sweet sambo (a royalist in secret?) decided I just could not wait any longer before finding out about Sweden's new princess... After hanging up, the info in this phonecall came back to me in my half-dreams, weirdly mixed with the work we'd just done, and I later had to message my friend Hawkeye, who's girlfriend is due in a couple of weeks: You know, I dreamt about you guys tonight. You suddenly got 15 babies in the back seat of your car on the hard shoulder of Bärbyleden! He seemed a bit frightened.
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