Post the Eighteenth

Long term readers of this blog are probably aware that I am currently in Antarctica.  The more astute of the newer readers have probably picked up on that too.  So, why am I in Antarctica?  What is my function?

What is a slushy?  Or even an uber-slushy?  If you're keen to find out, read on, and learn all about a day in the life of an uber-slushy!



Firstly, a boring definition: 

slushy (n) an expeditioner who, on a rostered basis, takes time out of their usual work to spend a day in the kitchen and mess assisting the chef.  Essentially they perform the work of a kitchen hand.



Secondly, another boring definition:

super-slushy (n)   an Antarctic Division employee who, out of desperation to live and work in Antarctica irrespective of the cost to their sanity, opts to work as a slushy full time.  Super-slushies spend their entire working day (all 10 and a half hours of it - or more) catering to the chefs' every desire as well as trying to keep the mess clean and stocked with food and drink.


So what is an uber-slushy?  An uber-slushy is pretty much the same as a super slushy, only really, really, really AWESOME!

Got it?  Excellent.

What follows is a pictorial journey though the day of the uber-slushy.   That is to say, this uber-slushy.  Me.

(Warning:  this stuff is mundane.  I mean, REALLY mundane.  If you thought rocks were dull, get a load of this.  If you get to the end and you're still awake, well done you.  Hell, if you even get to the end, full-stop -  well done you!)


So.

The day officially begins at 0730 hrs am o'clock in the morning, although I generally start a bit earlier because I like to be ahead of the game - usually around 0715.

Being, as I am, acutely conscious of work health and safety, I like to don the appropriate protective wear.  Or, as in this case, the inappropriate protective wear.

This kitchen is chock full of style.

And so, correctly inappropriately attired I begin with a bit of washing up!

And so it begins...

Once that is completed (pfff - trust me, the washing up is never completed) I leap joyfully out into the mess to examine the stocks of breakfast foods, juices etc. in order to determine those things that need topping up.

I swear that most of the expeditioners on station are related to cattle, because I think they all have four stomachs.  They must have to consume the volumes of cereals, breads, juices, milk &c. that this mob puts away on a daily basis.

So here I am sorting out new bowls of tinned fruits:

And here I go, topping up the cereal containers.

Into the storeroom hidden under the stairs...

...where deeds nefarious and full of fibre are done.

With the regrettable absence of diary farms in the district, we have to make up our own milk from powder, and that noble responsibility is borne by yours truly.

So here I am, doing my very best jersey impersonation.  Moo.

Such a real teat treat to do this.

I warned you, didn't I?  This is riveting stuff.

Breakfast ends at 0800, so once I have completed my vital replenishment duties, I spring back into the kitchen to enjoy a spot more washing up.

Here Swim-Swim provides company, helping me to pass the time by telling me some off colour jokes.

Stand wash up comedian

I have to say the his humour is a bit weird.  Penguin humour has always left me a bit cold, I find.  *cough*

Anyway, at the completion of breakfast at 0800 it's time to muck out the stables clean the mess after the expeditioners have all left.  We start with the breakfast area...

Under the watchful gaze of my supervisor

... and then move onto the mess proper.   And it is a proper mess, let me tell you!  Boom boom!  (sorry)

I love my work

At 0900 I am joined by my fellow uber-slushy, Hannah.  (Hannah starts and finishes later than I do).

Here we demonstrate that we have both been knighted into the Order of the Lacerated Thumb, proudly showing off our official regalia - the bandaged thumb.

Wonder Twin Powers - activate!

I earned mine on a vegetable slicer (known in the kitch-biz as a 'mandolin', although it only plays thumb music as far as I can tell) and Hannah with a clunkin' big knife.  All good, though.  The station's doctor, Mal, managed to save the limbs.

Aaaand then it's time for some washing up.

Jeff of the Suds

Chef Lesley declares that she needs something from the freezer in the dungeon.  So down I go, into the dungeon (after making sure I turn on aaalllll the lights first.   (I've read Stephen King's "IT".  I know what might be down there)).

Me going down

Into the freezer

Returning with the goodies

Are you following all of this?  It's very convoluted, I know.  But do try to stay with us.

Meanwhile, Hannah busies herself making up some salads for the salad bar, closely observed by you-know-who.

She makes it seem like such fun!

A critical (glass) eye

Under construction

But salads are so dull.

Personally I can't get enough of a fast-paced high-action world of the washing up!

Here is another part of the process.  After washing the items I don't rinse them - that uses too much water in this very water-poor part of the world.  Instead I put them through this unit which rinses them using significantly less water to do the job.

Rinser/sanitiser dooberry

There's a bit of a 'unit' sitting on top, too.

Salads made, Hannah turns her hand to making the morning tea food for tomorrow - in this case cheese and bacon toasted open rolls.  YUM!

Hannah's smokin' smoko!

Into the container they go, then into the cool room, ready to be whipped out and toasted for tomorrow's morning tea (or 'Smoko' as it is lovingly referred to here).  Delish.

As for me, well, what could be better than a bit more washing up?

A bit more?  A bit!?

Eventually 1300 rolls around, and we are given parole to refuel before swinging back into action.  I have to say that by this stage I am fairly thankful just for the chance for a sit-down, let alone have something to eat!

Pfaffed.

Hannah too takes the opportunity to switch off briefly.

Lunch consumed, it's time to... oh, I dunno... head back into the kitchen!

It's also time to change into my afternoon apron.  I think I require something just a little bit more inappropriate for the afternoon stints.  And this apron featuring Michelangelo's David is just the ticket!

So naughty!

So when the ravening hordes have demolished lunch it's time to firstly clean up the kitchen (which, believe it or not, requires some washing up), pack away the left overs and then head out into the mess to give that the once over.

After the tables are wiped we lift the chairs...

Lift and...

...sweep the floors...

...separate.  Er... sweep, I mean.

...and mop the floors.

Again, this stuff is incredibly fascinating, is it not?  Hm, well I did warn you. 

After those tasks are completed, and if the chef has no food preparation work that he/she needs us to do, we get a break.  Yes, a break!  Heavens be praised.

All going well we get an hour and a half off from 1500.  (That's 3pm in English).


So, returning at 1630  (c'mon, you can work it out) my first job is to go through the fruit bowls to check that the fruit inside has not turned to mush.  Any incipient ickiness is chucked out, and the fruit bowls topped up from the fruit in the chillers downstairs.

Bit of an old fruit.

Then, just for a change, it's back into the kitchen.  But before I can get into the really exciting stuff (like washing up) there are some other jobs to do.  Such as scrubbing this device, known as a brat pan.

Brat pan.  Unkind comments should be kept to yourself.

Then, just for kicks, how about some washing up?

I'm running out of ideas for captions now.

I'll bet you're starting to pick up on a theme here.  You are, right?  Of course you are.

And that is pretty much my position until the end of my working day at 1800.  And I have to say that by that time I am pretty wiped-out.

And here I am being pretty wiped-out.  (Just so you know I am telling the truth).

Knackered

Are you still with me?

Well done.

I have to say that, by a long margin this was the longest blog post to prepare for and actually write.  Which has a fair degree of irony about it, since also by a long margin it covers the least interesting subject matter so far.

But, c'est la vie, as they say in French speaking parts of Canada.

Big thanks to Hanna Taylor, Rachel O'Brien and Michael Goldstein for their excellent wielding of the camera for this.  Cheers guys.