I knew that this was going to be a difficult interview from the start. I had received some brief and slightly contradictory instructions on how to find a particular bar, hidden somewhere in the heart of the seaside town of Westerby on Sea; consequently I spent nearly an hour walking in circles and was late for the appointment. Only when I found the place did I realise that I had walked past the front door twice already, not realising it was my destination.
Even inside I wasn’t sure if it was the right place. Walking in from the bright sunshine felt rather like walking into a cave, and it was all I could do to stop myself tumbling down the steep stairs into the basement bar itself. I bought myself a drink, briefly marvelled at how cheap everything was in 1962, and told the barman I was looking for a…
View original post 1,217 more words