I sit in bed writing this blog, not because I feel I owe the blog-readers of the world some stories, but more so because the family I’m staying with won’t let me go to bed. Its not a written or verbal law by which I am bound, more of an invisible one, whereby when I try to get under the covers a nosey little head comes peeping into the room asking me questions about how old I am, or wanting to get something from the room I’ve taken over for a month. Even The Mum last night came into my room at 11pm when I was apparently asleep to tell me that she was watching Crocodile Dundee and how good it was.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I haven’t spent a cent since I’ve been working on this farm, I’ve had free food, free entry into some pretty amazing horse shows and a few rides here and there but I have a feeling I’m really doing more than my fair share of the work.
I don’t get a day off, I work from 8am until the kids go to bed which is rather late, even by a 23yr old’s standards. I do all the work I’m happy to do, but I also do a hell of a lot extra. I’m expected to do EVERYTHING for the kids. I have to hold their chip cartons at the shows because they can’t be bothered holding it themselves. I have to put their plates in the dishwasher after every meal because they’re too lazy to do it themselves. I have to cook a different meal for each member of the family because they’re all so picky. I don’t get to sit down for more than 5 minutes because someone wants a cup of tea, or someone needs me to walk to dog, or someone needs me to look after their kids for 5 minutes which turns out to be an hour of unpaid babysitting, including nappy changes! Ahhr!! And worst of all, no one in the entire family has replied ‘yes’ when I’ve asked for a bit of help, even when its quite apparent that I’m struggling with a wheelbarrow or a bale of hay, or an armful of dirty laundry.
Granted, I am no domestic goddess. I shy from most household duties and I’ve been told I’m very bad at them, so this is probably good practice. But its just getting on my nerves at how people are taking advantage of me because I’m too polite to complain. I was even promised babysitting work before I came, however, it appears that people are now just dropping their kids around for me to look after on top of the kids that live here without so much as a thank you.
I have considered talking to The Mum about it and requesting at least a couple of days off, but I have a very strong feeling it will be met with a ‘Well if that’s the case, you should go back to London’. They’ve ‘fired’ a girl already (despite the fact that they weren’t even paying her) for ‘not fitting in’ (meaning she demanded respect and reasonable hours!) So I stay here with free food, lots of animals to keep me company, lots of work that will hopefully help me lose weight and make the 2 and a half weeks I have until Amsterdam with my friends go by even quicker, or I return to London to stay with a bunch of coke-snorting, aggressive lunatics that will charge me for staying there and make me buy my own food?
I guess you just gotta put up with a bit of hard yakka sometimes. But at least I have these beauties to keep me stress free!
Winner of the Pure bred Arabian class. My fav horse of the day!