Libation, Potation … Location
I blogged enthusiastically a while ago about Barratt Homes dishing out free beer at viewings.
Let me now take the opportunity to raise a glass (or three) to Ludlow Thompson for their splendid Good Pubs Rental List – in ma hones opinun (hic) … iz a brillen idea.
It’s not, let me hasten to add, that they’re trying to encourage us to knock back 15 pints after work – as we all well know, this is not how we do things here in Blighty.
No, no, no: we drink like this:
“If a stop at your local pub for a pint or a Pinot Grigio on the way home is part of your daily routine, check out our List of Rentals with nearby ‘locals’.”
Ah yes, many’s the time I’ve stopped by on the way home for just the one …
Still, hats off (if you can still find your head) to LT for acknowledging the incalculable (and try saying that after a few) value of a good local boozer.
My own local is a place called the Cleveland in Preston Park, Brighton; a fine hostelry that also serves bloody good grub. If you’re ever in the neighbourhood … mine’s a pint of the black stuff.
Does the local matter? Tell us about the boozer that makes your neighbourhood more … neighbourly …
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I live next door to a pub (the Black Horse) and across the road from a Conservative Club and have done for three years. I have noticed that things fluctuate with the seasons – parties outside in summer, furtive smokers outside in winter. Indeed, the whole smoking ban has changed the outside clientele completely – the Tory club even installed an awning (for the rain) and a perspex sheet (for those biting west winds).
As the pub is very much a local affair, it generally exerts a power for good; really antisocial moments can be counted on the fingers of one hand in the three years I have lived by it. My first weeks alerted me to when to expect real outbursts from within the building, chiefly the karaoke nights on Thursday and Sunday nights and – a real eruption this – whenever Bolton Wanderers score a goal (a rarer occurrence in the past year than it was in the first two).
Although the pub, the club and my flat are all on a main road, the local flavour of things means that all taxi drivers, to a man and woman, know never to toot their horns outside – in the case of the pub, no mean achievement, as all manner of hackney cabs and people carriers shuttle to and fro endlessly from its precincts, using my back yard wall as the reverse marking point.
Too well-lit and busy for serious yobbery, the only regular downside is the occasional youngster who cannot face the arduous trip to the toilets and might see fitr to christen my back yard wall with contents generally reserved for the lavatory…but as the autumn now grows ever colder, even this hardy breed starts to die out…
THE GLASSBLOWER, Piccadilly – enough said
My local is ‘The Bevendean’ in Moulescoomb, brighton and it’s great if your a known ‘face’ in there but it is shall we say very lively. Last week their was a row about a game of pool and someone got hit round the head with a cue, and that was two women, the week before someone got stabbed … I could go on