IN these health-obsessed days, it is barely possible to pick up a daily newspaper without reading that Britain is working too hard and that thousands - perhaps millions - of us are suffering from work-induced stress.

Being something of a sceptic in such matters, I tend to wonder how much of this stress is part of our new compensation culture. The huge damages awarded by courts to people suffering from such stress astounds me because people have been doing similar jobs for decades, perhaps centuries, without throwing a wobbly and reaching for their lawyer.

For the majority of us who soldier on, however, there are undoubtedly jobs which make greater demands than most in both time, dedication and - yes - stress. And if the people doing those jobs do them properly, they can add a great deal to the life of their local community.

Which is something that Robin and Sue Buttery have been doing on Skipton High Street these past 16 years. And, alas, they are soon to retire so that they can have the first Christmas off in all that time.

Robin and Sue run a pub, a very big pub at that, a career which many who don't know look upon more as one long party rather than actual work. Not so.

It means 18-hour days, sometimes seven days a week, being your busiest when most of us are on holiday, and trying to be nice all the time to people who, quite often, are not very nice at all.

If you get it wrong, a more sinister ingredient is added to the mix: the ever present fear of violence from louts who seem bent on making our country towns into battlefields most weekends.

And this is why I am greatly indebted to Robin and Sue, who will quit as managers of the Red Lion in November. You see, they got it right and kept the place as a safe haven for decent folk who like a beer or a bite without crazed yobs screaming obscenities in their ears.

"You learn with experience how to deal with potential troublemakers," says Robin, a deceptively slight figure who is one of the softest spoken men I have ever known. "For a start, you must talk to them respectfully, not bellow and shout - that way, you are going to get a punch on the nose.

"In most gatherings of young lads, there are one or two who are more sober, more considerate of others. You appeal to them to look after their troublesome mates and that usually works: the good ones know that a bad apple can get them all barred."

I use the word deceptive because Robin played top-class rugby until he was 43 - the last seven years with North Ribblesdale - and small men on rugby fields have to develop ways of looking after themselves!

With Sue acting as another calming influence - "My mum was a landlady too, and she taught me that woman can often defuse situations better than men" - the couple can only remember three incidents of violence in the Red Lion in their 16 years.

Robin was born in Cheshire during the war but his father had a job in the aircraft industry and the family moved around a great deal. Eventually, they settled in Somerset and he went to grammar school in Weston-super-Mare.

There, he developed a life-long love of sport, representing the county at rugby and athletics. His team mate in both was the soon-to-be politician, author and jailbird, Lord Archer.

"He got stuck in on the rugby field but even then he spoke as though he had a plum in his mouth," recalled Robin.

Sport, in one way, was to be Robin's downfall because he flunked his first year exams at Manchester University because he had spent too much time on the playing field - "I forgot what I was there for" - so he went into industry just when computers were being introduced.

Eventually, he moved to Leeds as a senior manager in the fast-contracting men's clothing industry. When that job went, he bought the Spar shop in Settle and then another in Hellifield.

It was here that he met Sue, a publican's daughter from Clitheroe, who had been to Settle High School and had worked at the Skipton Building Society. She was to follow in her parents' footsteps by working at the Bay Horse at Snaygill and, when they got married in 1984, her parents suggested that they too should go into the licensed trade.

They became trainee managers at - strangely - the Red Lion and after filling in at various other pubs landed the managers' job at the Cross Keys opposite Skipton police station. Then the plum job in the local Whitbread's chain came up - the Red Lion - and they were ecstatic when they got it.

"It is such an important pub and hotel that we could barely believe out luck," says Sue. "It has the best situation in Skipton, a history going back to the 13th century, and is busy all year round, especially on market days. What more could you ask?"

Well, in answer to that, I for one would not like to sign a contract that forbade me having a day off between December 12 and January 4, when everyone else is getting legless.

Nor, having bought a house 15 years ago on the outskirts of Skipton, would I have liked to live in it for just one night a week - which is where the couple have spent their one night a week off. That does sound like hard work to me.

And time is a key reason for their deciding to retire early. They have six grandchildren whom they rarely see. And this year, for the first time ever, they will spend Christmas with them.

Even by the standards of the shops of Skipton High Street, this a little previous but I wish them a truly memorable Merry Christmas.

Whoever takes over the Lion has a tough act to follow.