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I was 15 and ready to earn my own money. Job opportunities were limited, because my transport options relied solely on the public bus system around where we lived. I was also still at school, so the only days I could work were weekends. Finally, I have never been good with numbers, so I wanted to do something practical and that didn't involve handling money or any kind of mathematics.

I decided to write to some of the local pubs that were on regular bus routes from our house, and see if there was any kitchen work to be had. One responded, with the unusual name of the Three King's Jacks Booth, and I knew exactly where it was because it was on a road I had travelled on to and from school for years before we moved to our then home the year before. I arranged a day to go and meet them, a kind of informal interview, for which my dad drove me and waited outside, just in case. The pub stood by itself at a road junction, with a large beer garden at the rear. It has changed it's name a couple of times since then, and there may not be many people left who know it by it's old name.

The family who lived and worked there were typical of English pub families. Warm, welcoming, a little loud, and very hard working. They had a daughter two years younger than me, who already had her own business selling sweets in the beer garden at weekends. But they needed some help in the kitchen and we all decided that a month's trial would be a good way to start.

My duties were the same each day I was there. I would start at 9am, and set out all the coffee cups, plates, and serviettes for the coach parties that would stop off en route at the pub for a comfort break before continuing their journeys. Then I would get the cutlery from the dishwasher, and roll up the knives and forks in paper serviettes, ready to use in the dining area. My next task was to make up the salad plates: this involved cutting tomatoes and cucumber very thinly, and laying the slices alternately in two rows on top of some shredded lettuce leaves on a dinner plate. These would then be covered in cling film and the plates placed on the cold shelf in the cellar. I would have to make up around 30, and then keep an eye on the numbers used during my shift and never let them drop below 10.

By this time, the first of the coach parties would usually have arrived, and I would be busy collecting used crockery, loading and unloading the dishwashers, and swapping empty coffee pots for fresh full ones. The pub opened

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