Pubs: they're quite good
In which, desperate for attention, we put forward a controversial opinion.
Look, call us controversialists or clickbait merchants if you like but we speak our minds. And we happen to think that pubs are quite good. There. We said it.
We’ve been thinking and talking about Pete Brown’s recent post urging more positivity around beer. It’s a tricky one, this, because mindless positivity can be a problem. It’s how you end up with hype around things that don’t deserve it and it can damage trust.
Back in 2017, a decade after his death, we wrote about the famous beer writer Michael Jackson. The idea was that, with a little distance, we could take a more balanced view of his contribution. One of the potential problems we discussed was his tendency to positivity, as expressed in this quote:
“If I can find something good to say about a beer, I do. Any merit or unusual aspect is, I believe, of interest to my readers. That is why I choose to write about it in the first place … Nor since I have the whole world from which to choose, can I be comprehensive. If I despise a beer, why find room for it? This poses a problem only when a beer is too big to ignore.”
That’s a thoughtful approach in its own way and made particular sense when beer was in such a fragile state, with brewery numbers dwindling and the overall quality of beer perceived to be in decline.
But for consumers of beer writing in the 21st century, it began to feel somewhat irritating – as if beer writers and brewers were members of the same club, conspiring to force feed drinkers a party line.
We declared the removal of the “kid gloves” in 2013 when comments from people like Peter ‘Tandleman’ Alexander began to get to us. He’s always insisted on his right to speak as he finds it, which sometimes means he comes across as grumpy or dismissive, especially of newer breweries. But the fact is that when he says he likes a beer or pub, you pay attention, because you know the praise has been earned.
As we matured as writers, we began to seek balance in our writing. And we challenged ourselves to be honest, even if it might lead to some uncomfortable conversations on social media. As we sought that balance, perhaps we sometimes tipped over into snark or cynicism. Generally, though, we think it worked out okay.
It meant we were confident to criticise BrewDog in our 2014 book Brew Britannia when they were still very much at the centre of a circle of hype. Back then, we got told off for it by more than one Equity Punk type who thought we were being mean. Now, of course, on the other side of scandal after scandal, podcast after documentary, it rather looks as if we gave them an easy ride.
Wait, weren’t we talking about pubs? Well, when 20th Century Pub came out in 2017, we were at the peak of our powers when it came to obnoxious objectivity. We tried really hard not to take sides, or to be seen to lobby for one point of view over another.
But the fact is, we’re absolutely not objective when it comes to pubs. We’re highly emotional and irrational. We think they’re a good thing and that it shouldn’t be left to the market, and cold-hearted commercial logic, to decide whether they survive.
The pandemic really brought this home when we, along with most of the UK population, went completely nuts when pubs were denied to us for a few months. We talked about them constantly. We turned our front room into a pub. (And a Belgian cafe.) We even dreamed about them.
What is so good about pubs, then? Well beer, obviously, especially draught beer, which it’s difficult to replicate at home, and especially especially cask ale, which is really only ever found in pubs.
But perhaps the most important thing is that the pub is a space that isn’t your house but isn’t an activity. It’s just somewhere to hang out. There’s no entrance fee and no (strict) expectation that you’ll spend a certain amount to be there. You can just be.
Then there’s the atmosphere or, in modern terms, the vibe. Dark corners, ancient fixtures and fittings, weird décor, the eccentric personalities of publicans and managers expressed across every surface… You rarely get that in a coffee shop.
Another thing you don’t often get in a coffee shop is entertainment. We’ve written lots of ‘Pub life’ pieces over the years trying to capture the sheer oddness of pub patrons. Like the gruff, burly man in a somewhat rough East Bristol pub crawling around on hands and knees murmuring sweet nothings to an especially cute dog.
What do you think, though? Why are pubs so good? And if you don’t like them… why not?
Back to the Local is, er, back
Maurice Gorham’s book about London pubs was first published in 1939 under the title The Local. Then, as we understand it, almost every copy was destroyed in the Blitz – along with many of London’s pubs. After the war, he revisited the text and it was republished in 1949 as Back to the Local.
Gorham writes wonderfully about pubs – a subject on which he clearly felt something more than journalistic curiosity – poignantly evoking a lost city and a lost time.
There have been various reprints over the years, including a plain-covered Faber Finds edition, and a lovely hardback which reproduces Edward Ardizzone’s charming illustrations in colour.
Now, there’s a neat paperback edition with a new cover and, most intriguingly, a fold-out map.
We’ve previously followed one of Gorham’s pub crawls but this could tempt us to get exploring again. Which pubs are still there? Which are gone? And which of them still have the magic they held 80 years ago?
The Sandringham: Benguiat in the bin
One of our local-ish pubs, The Sandringham on Sandy Park Road in Brislington, Bristol, is undergoing a makeover.
When we visited in 2022 we found a classic outer-Bristol pub. It was slightly tatty with ageing customers and very flat Bass served from a mirrored box. It was also very much a darts pub with a lot of space given over to oches and boards.
As is often the case with pubs like this, though, we found ourselves wondering how long it might survive in that form. The houses nearby, mostly Victorian and Edwardian terraces, are increasing in price. And the businesses on Sandy Park Road are gradually creeping upmarket, with more delis and cafes and shops selling what Charlie Brooker once called “fuckery-foo”.
Then last week we noticed that a refurb was underway. The distinctive 1980s or 90s signs, in Benguiat, AKA The Stranger Things font, were in a skip. And the woodwork was being painted grey. Oh no – not grey.
We’ll pop in again when the refurb is done.
On the blog
Our chunkiest post in the past month was about video games in pubs – a brief craze that lasted from the 1970s to the 1990s, starting with Pong. It prompted some good comments and memories both on the post and on social media across various platforms.
We wrote about the danger of being a quite good brewery in a highly competitive market: “Bad feedback, unpleasant as it might be to hear, is at least possible to act upon. But what do you do in the face of silent shrugs?”
Jess provided notes on a crawl of crusty-hippy-stoner pubs in East Bristol, including observations on our differing tastes in pubs: “All of them have hippy vibes of varying degrees and make me feel nostalgic for my early drinking days – while leaving Ray a little on edge. He’s such a clean boy!”
Off the back of a trip to Manchester we wrote about two very different Alberts: a fancy, modern German-style beer hall in the city centre, and a Victorian social club in the suburbs.
There were also weekly editions of news, nuggets and longreads, plus footnotes on those posts for Patreon supporters. In fact, we made one of those public, in case you want a taste for free.
And that’s it — that’s your lot. Until next month. Byeeee!
Jess & Ray
In the 90s and 2000s, estate agents in desirable bits of London used to be painted a shade I christened ‘Fuck Off Navy’. There’s definitely a sense these days that a certain matt grey means your Sunday roast is going to cost you £30 and you’ll get sneered at if you just want to sit and drink a pint of Old Bastard. Or even two-thirds of kumquat and iguana pastry stout.