It could be a beautiful image, lone woman on an empty country train platform, looking down the tracks,wind gently blowing her hair. Could be. Instead it was me, in a cloud of expletives, laden down like a pack donkey, waddling along the tracks, hair blowing into my mouth. And so I waited for British Rail to whisk me away from my home for the last 6 months, 'The Boot' in Lapworth. Thats right, six months of slaving away as a bar wench in a a small town on the outskirts of Birmingham. Sounds bleak. Not really though. I've loved almost every minute of my time with the amazing Boot people who've looked after me so well. Time has flown by, just when I'd remembered all the regulars drinks, knew all the village gossip and started
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