southwell hasn't changed much since 1953...

Most of East Anglia's like that. That's why I like it.

Got decorators in. Why do they start at dawn, I wonder?

Long, long ago, in a galaxy far away, I was shanghaied into doing a temp job for a roofing contractor. Which meant getting up impossibly early in the morning, driving fifty miles to the yard then spending the rest of the day going up and down ladders, or being driven at breakneck speed to the next "job". I actually lasted three days before falling apart completely.

There was a time when I would have broadcast the name of the temp agency in the hope of protecting other naieves.

We were temping a lot. I worked in a factory that made contacts (how do you call those plugs) for early computers. It was very hard. Our shift was 8 hours. Mr TP used to drop me there one hour early because he had to go temping too and we had one car.
He was washing carpets in college. This was a good job, he was lucky. If I remember correctly it paid more.
I was lucky that I had a job. It was very difficult to study after that, but we did it. We had to survive. Then I got ballet job (accompanying), but still worked in a factory because there was not enough money and because there was no ballet work during summers.
Two jobs had different difficulties. The factory was an assembly line and it was very boring. It was a fast assembly line, but people were sitting close together and doing routine repetitive things.
On the whole I liked the organization because it gave us opportunity to survive.

I made Mr Kiplings exceedingly....cakes for a time in the 80s. So money-fixated were the times i recall acouple
dashing up the road to the registry office and donning their overalls again half an hour later. One night the conveyor belt flew off and we spent 12 nocturnal hours digging ourselves out of mince pie quicksand...

I had a summer job at the Golden Wonder factory in Long Buckby, Northants. They didn't make crisps but all the other snacks, such as Wotsits. But the thing was you could eat anything you wanted. Workers would take packets off the conveyor belts, open them and eat them: all perfectly allowed. It was a good policy because everyone soon tired of them and management didn't have to go around checking up. The factory closed some time ago but Long Buckby is where princes William, Harry and Charles got off after Princess Diana's funeral and it was the home of Stanley Unwin.

Foreman at Kiplings was a Homer Toscanni , Tony Bob. When he ascended his rostrum everyone was called 'Oy!', and he would conduct the Fondant Fancies and French Swirls a bit a la Varese/ Antheil. Not a Boulez approach.
I imagine the same issue applies with the Wotsits and the Choccie as with the Pies-before long the sugar rush
is seriously narcotic-about 2 packets in. You either shrink from them at that point or they've got you for life...I
got out in time, but I've still got my bakewell/ carrot cake twinges now and then.

I know about people working in McDonald or Kentucky fried chicken and they couldn't eat chicken from that place (or hamburgers). They never told me what was so revolting about them. May be they signed something about not saying.

My worse job was a maid in a hotel. I found it very difficult physically, May be I was not prepared physically. There was a whole floor of rooms I had to do and I felt that I will collaps any moment after a few of them. I found changing beds (especially big beds) very tiring. Also washing bathrooms was not easy. We had to clock in and out. I did not stay at this place for long. It was a very good hotel chain in the USA. I think I only worked there for 3 months. I just had no stamina.