More to follow to explain this gibberish:

Just finished the first day; disappointed we’re NOT allowed to eat or
even taste what we cook, they flog it off in the college brasserie the
next day; also not much technique today – “slice those apples,” he
said; I knew how to slice them nice and fine, but the chap sharing my
workstation was cutting them half an inch thick to fan on top of an
apple tart.
And at the moment they’re saying my UK qualifications – my degree –
aren’t recognised by France so I’ll also have to sit papers on French
and English language, history, geography, maths and so on. Bummer. May
be appealing to the European Court of Human Rights.
Chef’s nice enough, but told me off for turning up in my cycling
clothes – trainers, jogging bottoms, anorak – and said I should be
arriving in a suit and tie! This after cycling 5kms from the centre of
town!
Right, I said, sure. It’s 50 metres from the gates to the changing
room and we stay in our kitchen clothes all day. Of course I’m gonna
put on a suit and tie for that distance.