Fortunately, or unfortunately (which ever way he looked at it), things began to improve at work. New volunteers had arrived and what a difference to the atmosphere of the place they made. In the time he'd been on the kibbutz he'd noticed, and got used to, the different phases of feelings amongst volunteers. Sometimes there were bad vibes and sometimes not. At the moment people generally got on well with each other. He began to enjoy his time at work again. A dramatic turnaround.

Now he was beginning to feel his decision to leave had been a rash one. He did enjoy being on the kibbutz and he had a lot of friends. England couldn't compare. He went to see his boss again to try to work something out.
They made a deal. He'd work until the end of December (a further three months), get more money for the same work, and also do a couple of morning shifts each week - a point he'd pushed hard on. His boss didn't want him to leave, that was obvious. He'd be there to work - no real responsibility. He wouldn't be in charge. It was a real weight off his shoulders.

A few days after they'd come to this agreement his replacement left. The work was too much of a strain on his back, he'd said. He'd only been at the bakery one week - muscle pain took longer than that to go away. Every newcomer felt discomfort at first.
So, back to being shift manager. There was to be no replacement for him as he'd decied to stay. He wasn't sure about it - knowing how much the work could get to him but, he thought, 'what the hell.'

The time came for a large group of volunteers to leave and the kibbutz couldn't get enough to replace them. They had to employ Israelis from other kibbutzim and they'd be needed to work double shifts which was around fourteen hours. His ten or eleven hours a night paled in comparison to that.
He found them good people to work with and the situation gave him more chance to use his Hebrew. They were all surprised at his knowledge of the language. It had taken a long time to get to his present level.