Man, what a day! Seriously, I’m still reeling from it. So, I’m a barista in Ashbourne, right? This little gem of a town in Derbyshire. You know, the kinda place where everyone knows everyone, and the gossip travels faster than a double shot espresso.
So, I roll into work at 7 AM, bleary-eyed and clutching my travel mug like it’s my lifeline. The sun’s barely up, and I’m already thinking about how I need a holiday. I mean, who wouldn’t? Ashbourne’s got its charm, but sometimes it feels like I’m stuck in a loop of the same old faces.
First customer of the day? Old Mrs. Thompson from St. John’s Street. Bless her heart, she’s like a walking history book. She starts telling me about her cat, Mr. Whiskers, and how he’s taken to sleeping on her knitting. I’m like, “That’s great, Mrs. T, but I’ve got 20 lattes to make!” But I smile, nod, and pour her a flat white.
Then, boom! The door swings open, and in walks this group of tourists. They’re lost, obviously. I mean, who wouldn’t be? Ashbourne’s got more winding streets than a maze. They’re asking for directions to the Market Place, and I’m like, “Just follow the smell of fresh pastries!”
But here’s where it gets wild. One of them, a guy named Dave, spills his coffee all over the counter. I’m talking a full-on tidal wave of cappuccino. I’m standing there, mouth agape, thinking, “Dude, really?” I grab a cloth, and as I’m cleaning up, I can’t help but laugh. Like, who spills coffee in a coffee shop? Classic.
After that, things calm down for a bit. I’m making drinks, chatting with regulars, and trying not to think about how I forgot to eat breakfast. Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off! I’m like, “What the actual heck?” Everyone’s panicking, and I’m just trying to keep my cool.
Turns out, it was just some kid messing around with a smoke bomb near the Market Place. I mean, come on! Ashbourne’s not exactly a hotspot for pyrotechnics. But hey, at least it gave me a break from the grind.
Once the chaos dies down, I’m back to my usual routine. I whip up a caramel macchiato for a bloke named Tom who always sits by the window on Church Street. He’s reading the paper, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s ever gonna finish that crossword.
Then, just when I think I can breathe, my mate Lucy pops in. She’s got this wild look in her eyes, and I’m like, “What’s up?” Turns out, she just got back from a hike in the Peak District. I’m so jealous! I mean, who wouldn’t wanna be out there instead of stuck behind a counter?
But then, she tells me about this amazing view from the top of Thorpe Cloud. I’m practically drooling. I’m like, “Lucy, you’ve gotta take me next time!”
As the day drags on, I start feeling a bit overwhelmed. The café’s packed, and I’m juggling orders like a circus performer. I’m sweating bullets, and my brain’s going a mile a minute. I can’t even remember if I’ve put sugar in half the drinks.
Finally, around 3 PM, things start to chill out. I take a breather and step outside for a sec. The sun’s shining, and I can hear the chatter from the market stalls nearby. It’s one of those moments where you just feel grateful, you know? Ashbourne’s got this vibe that’s hard to beat.
But then, just as I’m about to head back in, I see a dog chasing a squirrel down the street. It’s like a scene from a movie! The dog’s all over the place, and the squirrel’s just mocking it. I can’t help but laugh.
By the end of my shift, I’m exhausted but happy. I’ve had my fill of drama, laughter, and a bit of chaos. I lock up the café, take a deep breath, and think, “Tomorrow’s another day.”
And who knows? Maybe I’ll finally get that hike in the Peak District. Or maybe I’ll just end up back at the café, serving up more coffee and stories. Either way, Ashbourne, you’ve got my heart.