True, there are pubs not too far from where I live. Just not great ones.
The nearest pub that I would venture to suggest falls into the ‘great’ category is about 15 minutes’ walk from Champ Towers.
Part of the problem is that all the houses around where I live were built by one Archibald Corbett in the late 1800s.
Corbett was a Quaker whose temperance views saw to it no pubs were allowed on the 278 acres of land which he acquired from a local landowner.
In fact you can pretty much work out the furthest reaches of Corbett’s then-housing empire by the location of pubs on the fringes of the streets he created.
No surprises then that I’m extremely envious of those of my friends who have several top-notch boozers within crawling distance of their living arrangements.
And little wonder I rejoiced when I saw a local pub closed for what looks like a complete overhaul.
To call the pub ‘basic’ in its pre-closure incarnation would be doing a disservice to the dictionary definition of the word.
The builders are still in and while it’s hard to tell exactly what it will be like, if it offers real ale and food then it will be a significant improvement on its predecessor.
Whether it rises phoenix-like from the ashes – not that it was the victim of a fire, you understand, more I’m going for a classical analogy – time will be the judge.
Suffice it to say that the local population is in a state of barely disguised joy at the prospect of a decent hostelry in the vicinity.
I will keep you informed as to whether the reality lives up to the expectation…
Hamish Champ is a journalist who writes about pubs and other stuff.