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Out of necessity I made my new residence the small, unused office which was located downstairs in the cellar of the pub.The office was about twenty feet underground, was the size of your average toilet room and was not being used for reasons which will shortly be obvious.It contained a small desk, as well as a fold back leather swivel chair and when the chair was pushed back into a sort of mattress, there wasn’t enough room for anybody else to be in the office, because that’s how small it was.

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It, also, contained a small built in but unused rack for storing bottles of spirits.It was enclosed by means of four brick-walls and it had a concrete ceiling, which couldn’t have been any higher than 8 feet, as well as a concrete floor.Located directly outside the office were all the pumps for the draught beers, which switched themselves automatically on every hour, twenty-four hours a fucking day, and which ran for about fifteen minutes at a time, and it was, for all intents and purposes, like listening to the sound of a kango hammer in operation, which drilled incessantly into your skull and reverberated down and throughout every inch of your body.In addition to this scenario and this is specifically for people that don’t know ; Manhatten is, in all probability, one of the most rat infested cities in the world, and the fact that the building which the bar was contained in was relatively old and, more importantly, the fact that I was twenty feet underground meant that I did tend to catch fleeting glimpses of them, whilst almost constantly being able to hear them, when the pumps were silent, gnawing and moving about.Just as an aside, I did end up being diagnosed with a form of hepatitis later on, and I can only assume that it originated from my stay in this rat infested cellar.

After the passing of a couple of weeks my day became pretty much routine.I would get up at about nine in the morning and have my breakfast in a diner which I came across on one of my exploratory walks.The diner was located on 59th street and 3rd avenue, about a ten minute walk from the pub, and was directly opposite the loading dock area of Bloomingdales Department Store.It was one of the few diners, which still existed, that contained a specific area in it for people who wished to smoke, and consequently it provided me with the opportunity to have my bagel, my coffee and sit there for an hour or two relaxing and reading the newspaper, while also observing the slow dripping of drops of water emanating from the cracks in the ceiling and pit, pit pattering to the floor just a few feet away from me.I would then return to the pub and commence with my cleaning duties.Come four o clock everything would be ready for the incoming barman and the opening up of the bar at four o clock promptly - Read More