After a brilliant night out Michel steered the Lambretta towards the Grange Hotel. With more of a thud then she had intended the scooters front wheel struck the door, causing it to swing open. She allowed the scooter to coast into the neglected outbuilding, along the back wall of which soiled chefs whites where piled high on a row of rickety chairs. These not so white whites, erupted like a ghostly volcano. Resulting in Michel allowing her scooter to tip on its side. As the sun announced the dawn, she swore, her expletive was repeated from beneath the rapidly cascading whites, which were falling like red hot larvae sliding down the side of a mountain. Donald’s night out had also been great, but after so many Black Velvets he had crashed out in the chef’s changing room. Michel and Donald swore again in union then burst into laughter, before setting out arm in arm to started work. Michel to the reception desk and Donald to the kitchens.