Man, what a day! I’m tellin’ ya, Birchington-on-Sea really knows how to throw a curveball. I’m just a bartender, right? But today? Phew! It was like a rollercoaster, and I didn’t even get a ticket.
So, I roll into work at The Royal Oak, right on the corner of Canterbury Road and Station Road. Nice little pub, cozy vibes, ya know? I’m just setting up, pouring myself a cheeky pint of lager, when in walks this group of tourists. They’re all hyped up, chattin’ about the beach. Like, yeah, it’s nice, but c’mon, it’s Birchington! We ain’t exactly Ibiza.
Anyway, they start ordering cocktails. I’m like, “You sure you want that? We’re not exactly known for our mixology skills.” But they insist. So, I whip up some dodgy concoctions. I mean, who knew gin and tonic could be so complicated? I’m sweating bullets, and they’re just laughing, taking selfies. I’m thinkin’, “Great, I’m the background of their holiday snaps. Just what I wanted.”
Then, outta nowhere, this old bloke, Mr. Jenkins, comes in. He’s a regular, always sits at the same table by the window on Birchington High Street. He’s got this wild white beard and a twinkle in his eye. Today, though? He’s fuming. Apparently, someone parked in his spot. I mean, c’mon, it’s not like it’s a reserved space! But he’s ranting about it like it’s the end of the world. I’m just nodding, trying not to laugh.
Then, the fire alarm goes off. Seriously? In the middle of a busy Saturday? Everyone’s panicking, running around like headless chickens. I’m just standing there, pint in hand, thinkin’, “This is it. This is how I go.” But it turns out it was just a false alarm. Some kid probably burnt their toast or something. Classic Birchington, right?
After that chaos, I finally get a breather. I step outside for a quick smoke. The sea breeze hits me, and I’m like, “Ahh, this is the life.” But then I see the beach. It’s packed! Families, kids, dogs everywhere. I mean, it’s Birchington-on-Sea, not a bloody festival! I can’t believe how many people are out there. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, ya know?
Back inside, the tourists are still at it. They’ve moved on to shots. I’m pouring tequila like it’s water. They’re singing some random song about the seaside. I’m just there, shaking my head, thinkin’, “This is why I love my job.”
But then, this one girl, she’s had a bit too much. She starts crying about her ex. I’m like, “Girl, you’re on holiday! Let it go!” But she’s all, “He was my everything!” I’m trying to be supportive, but inside, I’m just rolling my eyes.
As the night goes on, I’m getting more and more into it. The pub’s buzzing, people are laughing, and I’m serving up drinks like a pro. I even manage to get Mr. Jenkins to crack a smile. He orders a pint, and I tell him it’s on the house. He looks at me like I just gave him a million quid.
But then, just when I think it’s winding down, a group of rowdy lads comes in. They’re shouting, making a scene. I’m like, “Oh great, just what I need.” They start ordering shots, and I’m thinking, “This is gonna end badly.”
And it does. One of them spills a drink all over the bar. I’m livid! I mean, c’mon, have some respect! But instead of losing it, I just laugh it off. “Welcome to Birchington, lads!” I say. They all crack up, and suddenly, we’re best mates.
By the end of the night, I’m exhausted but happy. I’ve seen the best and worst of Birchington-on-Sea in one day. I lock up the pub, step outside, and take a deep breath. The sea’s calm, the stars are out, and I think, “Yeah, this is home.”
So, that was my day. Just another wild ride in Birchington. Can’t wait to do it all again tomorrow!