My ideal job would be working as an editor for a well known publishing house.

But my dream job would be working in an independently run bookshop, perhaps like the one in the picture below. In this fantasy of mine, the bookshop has faded carpets, worn down from the many, many feet walking and standing upon it over the years. The shelves are crammed with books of varying sizes, genres and ages, to the extent where they bow a smidgen in the middle. The ceiling of this shop is low, supported by chunky, wooden beams, testament to the its age. There’s also a resident cat who prowls around, rubbing itself against the calves of customers, new and loyal alike. Up an uncarpeted, uneven and rickety staircase is a small coffee shop where people sit in mismatched armchairs, sipping on a latte or cappuccino and reading their latest purchase.

Sigh. I can dream.

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