127 Hours by Aimee Topham

One hundred and twenty seven hours in two weeks. That’s at least nine hours a day, seven days a week. Straight. Seeing the same faces, going through the same motions, having to have the same ‘genuinely interesting’ conversations with customers, who always remark on what a lovely place this must be to work.

And yes, it’s gorgeous. The roaring fire, candles, oak furniture and soft jazz music all make it a very atmospheric place to live my life.

But, after one hundred and twenty seven HOURS here, I need a break. I need to get away from the pumps, the endless cleaning of glasses. I need to get away from the chefs, the moaning customers, the crying children who drop food all over the floor.

I need the pub.