Hello,

To my shock I got fired on Wednesday morning. It’s not on fair grounds and I’m very angry and upset.

I’m upset because I’ve let Paul and the cats down, since we urgently need to uproot and move house. I’ve let my pub down, because I was making progress here and as much as I probably, maybe, shouldn’t I do actually love my pub. Well, not my pub anymore is it.

I outlasted all the early prognoses of two days or a week or a month. Nearly 9 months is a huge record, compared to the other managers who’ve been put in here, one of which really did last two days and most were measured in weeks.

I’ve achieved plenty while I’ve been here. Getting the real ale back on and bringing in new darts teams, getting this gigantic refurb both put through and actually finished. I never got to open my burger shack.

The only way is out, so I need to find somewhere for me and Paul and the furry babies to live.

I don’t really know what to say. What to do. During the time I’ve been here I’ve had homophobic attacks on the pub and myself, I’ve been punched by customers, I’ve had people stalking the pub. That’s, I hate to say, normal for running a pub so it is what it is. I have nonetheless loved and looked after the place.

I did say, as they fired me, that they could expect rioting. For the handful of customers who hate my guts there are tens if not hundreds that love me. They have been emailing and phoning the company for the past two days.

For now I have to focus on finding us somewhere to live and a new job. I’ve not got very much time to do either and it’s obviously very difficult circumstances to be doing it in.

I’m just so sad, more than anything. I know pubs come and go, in this trade and that all too often some political wranglings put someone in this position. As soon as the refurbishment was finished, other people wanted this place.

But it is what it is. Which is, frankly, a load of absolute shite. I’ll write something more philosophical when I can think.

Hazel