I HAD a few different jobs while I lived in the UK in the mid 2000’s. Warehouse lacky, construction worker, greenkeeper, Wembley Stadium seat installer. After 20,000 seats, I’d had enough, I needed a change. Living in a share house full of backpackers, someone had a classified magazine with jobs in it and one really stood out for. “Grouse beaters wanted in the Highlands,” was basically all it said, plus a phone number. A quick phone call with a promise of 30 pound a day, a beer, lunch and dinner provided too. Only 4 days beating guaranteed per week, but I wasn’t over there for the money anyway. That sounded like me and I was out of the concrete jungle of London and up into the fresh air of Scotland,…
