Obstacles to pubs re-opening

As rates of infection for Coronavirus continue to fall and the roll out of the two Covid-19 vaccines gathers increasing pace, there’s been considerable and somewhat predictable speculation as to when the current lockdown restrictions will ease, and some semblance of normality returns to our lives.

Not least amongst all this second-guessing is the vexed question of when will the nation’s pubs finally be allowed to open their doors again and go about their lawful business? Reports circulating a few weeks ago suggested that pubs could potentially reopen as early as April but would not be able to serve alcohol.

This not only defeats the object of a pub, but also shows a total lack of understanding of what pubs are all about. The person behind this frankly ludicrous suggestion was rumoured to be Chris Whitty, the government’s Chief medical Officer, whose obsessive fears about spreading the virus appear to have clouded his judgement. His argument is that because alcohol lowers inhibitions and makes social distancing more difficult, a "no- booze approach" is the safest option.

Prof Whitty is reported to be single, a teetotaler who admits to no outside interests, so he’s not exactly the pub goer’s champion. He conveniently ignores the fact that when pubs were finally allowed to open their doors, for a few glorious months last summer, the vast majority of pub-goers behaved sensibly and responsibly.

Fortunately, the government seem to have shelved this daft idea, which attracted universal criticism from licensees, trade bodies and pub goers alike. The other good news is there will be no daft 10 o’clock curfew, and no more absurd nonsense regarding a “substantial meal”– the so-called “Scotch Egg rule.”

Reading between the lines, it seems as though drinkers will be encouraged to make full use of outdoor drinking spaces, such as pub gardens and patio areas, but this suggestion has opened another set of problems.

The most recent news suggests that pubs will be permitted to reopen from April, but only with customers seated outside. These tentative plans to allow beer garden service only, have attracted fierce criticism from the British Beer and Pub Association (BBPA) - the industry trade body that represents the pub sector.

BBPA advise that 29,000 pubs, about 60% of the nations’ total, do not have a big enough garden or other outdoor area to welcome drinkers without also needing to open the indoor areas as well. This equates to that more than half of the UK’s pubs not reopening whilst the rest would be at the mercy of the weather.

BBPA chief executive Emma McClarkin said, “Even if some pubs did try to open outdoors only in April, all it would take is some heavy rain and they would find it has all been for nothing. For many pubs, gardens are at the back and the only way to access them is through the inside. And of course, toilet facilities would still need to be provided.” She finished by saying, “We question the government’s thinking behind this and suggest they consult with us as a sector on it.”

That last suggestion is far to sensible for a government packed full of fools and sycophantic “yes men” to listen to, let alone take notice of. The obsessive, nannying, pseudo-scientists advising them, are also unlikely to listen, with their namby-pamby, “play it safe" approach. But as the author Hugh Walpole wrote, “Don’t play for safety. It’s the most dangerous thing in the world.”

The BBPA is pushing for pubs to be able to serve customers indoors as soon as non-essential shops are allowed to reopen. It said about 75% of pubs have some outdoor space but only 40% could open it if restrictions on indoor movement persist. Most of those that could open would not break even due to the logistical challenges and unpredictable April weather. Restricting indoor service would mean just 17% of UK pub capacity would be available, resulting in £1.5bn of lost turnover compared with normal times.

Their spokesperson said, “We urge the government to open our pubs inside – and outside – when non-essential retail also opens. By then, the vaccine will have been rolled out to millions more, and pubs can open while continuing to follow exemplary hygiene measures, world-leading standards in guidance and social distancing."

“Until then, the government must do all it can to support our sector, until it opens to trade properly, in the upcoming budget.”  Hear hear!

From a personal point of view, whilst fully endorsing the BBPA suggestions, if pubs are forced down the outdoor drinking route, I will definitely support them with my custom, as long as this "half-way house" idea is just a temporary step along the road to full opening, with proper, stand-up, vertical drinking.

 

Are rumours true for 2022?

If the rumours are true, and I’ve no reason to believe they aren’t, CAMRA – the Campaign for Real Ale is making plans to publish a 2022 edition of is best selling Good Beer Guide. Why is this newsworthy? I hear you ask.

Well, in case it had escaped your attention, we’re still in the grip of a global pandemic, and the UK is still in the middle of its 3^rd National Lockdown. In many cases, certainly here in Kent – origin of the fast becoming, world dominant B.1.1.7 variant of Coronavirus, pubs have been closed since the beginning of November, with no signs of being allowed to reopen until May, at the earliest.

This leaves a number of quite serious hurdles to surmount if an edition of Britain’s top-selling pub guide is to grace the nation’s bookshops, from next autumn; not least of which is how will local CAMRA branches go about surveying and selecting entries. Also, given the devastating effect closure has already had on the licensed trade, how many pubs will be in a financial position to reopen once they’re allowed?

At the beginning of October last year, I wrote a lengthy piece on the difficulties associated with producing such a guide, so I don’t intend on going over them again. What I will say is few people appreciate the effort that goes into the Good Beer Guide, and the sheer volume of work that has to be done before the publication is sent off to the printers and “put to bed,” as they say in the print trade.

Nearly all of this work is unpaid and carried out by branch volunteers. The cynics amongst you might say that as these individuals have nothing else to do (they can’t go to the pub, can they?), they will be quite happy sitting at home, acting as unpaid data in-putters. This misses the point, and what’s more the data the volunteers will be working for is likely to be the most up to date and, given the evolving situation, highly likely to change.

Before going any further, I haven’t actually seen the plans that CAMRA have
for what will be an interim, rather than a full, true to form edition. There is no news of this venture on CAMRA’s official website, although after searching I did find one local CAMRA branch making tentative plans for surveying and selecting potential pubs - virtually?

Instead, I am relying on information published by avid GBG “ticker” and prolific blogger, Retired Martin, on his site of the same name. Martin mentions CAMRA Discourse – a forum I am unable to access now that I’m no longer a CAMRA member, before going on to state that the guide will contain around 3,600 pubs that are identified as open and serving cask, with a launch planned for late October.

Sales of the guide will inject some much-needed cash into CAMRA’s coffers but, more importantly, will keep the whole Good Beer Guide idea alive. The publication of even an interim guide, will also provide a sense of continuity – an important point to note in what will be the 50^th anniversary of CAMRA’s foundation.

Although I am no longer a member, I still have a soft spot for the Campaign, so if the guide does appear next year,  I wish the GBG, and CAMRA all the very best.

You can read more about the work that goes into the publication of the Good Beer Guide each year, by clicking on the link, here.

Nothing to look forward to?

One of the worst things about the current lockdown, and perhaps any lockdown, is the uncertainty. Not knowing how things are going to end or how they will come about is bad enough, but worse still is not having anything to look forward to.

The reality of this was brought home to me in a conversation I was partially involved with. It took place in our local chippy whilst I was waiting – socially distanced of course, for our fish supper to be fried.

As a family we’ve used the same excellent, local chippy for years, and for the majority of that time the business has been owned by a Turkish Cypriot family. Normally there’s the owner and his wife behind the counter, and quite often the proprietor’s father. But for the past few months there’s only been the boss and one of his employees present. It turns out his father managed to get back to Cyprus, before the ban on travel came into force, and I’m assuming his wife is at home, looking after the kids.

It’s one of the couple’s children who made the remark that’s the inspiration of the title of this post, proving there’s a lot of truth in the saying, “Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings.”  The story behind it was related to me and a couple of other customers, whilst we were standing in line waiting for our fish and chips to be cooked.

The normally quite jovial owner told us that lockdown was having a bad effect on his children, cooped up indoors for much of the day and unable to meet or mix with other children.  His daughter has been particularly affected, and the comment she came out with one afternoon, really melted his heart. “Daddy,” she said, “there’s nothing to look forward to anymore.”

“What could I say?” He asked us, and apart from the obvious sympathetic noises, there was very little we could say in reply. The trouble is, that little girl was right, as with lockdown No. 3 in full swing there really is very little to look forward to at present. Of course, this tedious situation won’t last forever – or at least it had better not! But when you’re a child, a month can seem like a longtime, whilst a year appears to go on forever.

When you think about it it’s the little pleasures in life that we all look forward to, as well as some of the bigger ones, which help us get through a busy working week, or a spell of bad weather, and it’s these pleasures, whatever they might be, that are not just important, they are quite often vital in keeping us focused, sane and not freaking out.

Many of us look forward to nights out with friends or meeting up with family, whilst others look towards bigger things. That well-earned summer holiday, short city break, or a meal out with a loved one, all help us get through times of stress or just the mundane pressures associated with everyday living.

For me, its choosing a holiday destination and then carrying out the necessary planning to bring that trip away into reality. Equally, it’s a meet-up with friends where, invariably a visit to a pub will be involved, whether as the main theme or as an aside. A walk in the countryside or, a “Proper Day Out,” where a group of like-minded individuals travels to a town, renowned for its range and variety of decent pubs and, of course, decent beer.

It was one such day out in Burton-on-Trent, almost a year ago, that represented my last such carefree and enjoyable, get together, and my last meticulously planned opportunity to visit a different location.

There will be other such days in the future – these kill-joy public health officials can’t keep us locked in our own homes forever – even though they seemed determined to try their hardest. These obsessive fanatics focused solely on a single issue – Covid, at the moment, fail to understand the value and the pleasure that trips such as these contribute to our happiness and sense of well-being, and how much planning and looking forward to such events matters in all of our lives.

What a dull, boring and uninteresting world we are bequeathing to future generations if we prohibit activities that involve socializing, travel or just enjoying the company of our fellow human beings; all because of a virus with a morbidity rate of around 0.9% when averaged out across the population as a whole.

Economies too, are being ruined by the draconian restrictions on way we live our lives, that are a direct consequence of lockdowns. Adults can understand such measures, and put up with them, providing they are temporary and there is light at the end of the tunnel, but it is different for children.

The anguish of the local fish & chip shop owner’s daughter, about there being nothing to look forward to, must ring a bell with a great many people at present. Unless there is a clear and positive way out of this, we are stoking up a severe crisis in mental health, whilst attempting to avert a not so obvious and proportionally less serious, physical health crisis.

A roller-coaster week

It’s been a real roller-coaster of a week, with emotions running high and the mood music swinging both ways. Tuesday was the day set aside for my father’s funeral a sad but, as I will describe later, moving and uplifting occasion that allowed us legally, to escape the confines of Kent and journey up to Norfolk.

With hotel accommodation uncertain, and opportunities for dining whilst away from home severely limited, this meant driving there and back in a day. This is something I’ve always tried to avoid in the past, following the experience of the umpteen trips I’ve made to Norfolk, this past quarter century.

When my parents first relocated to Norfolk, it was common for myself, and quite often the family as well, to stay at their place, but as their health began to deteriorate, bed & breakfast or a hotel room, became the order of the day. An overnight stay, or two allowed me to experience a bit more of Norfolk than the area surrounding Dereham, which is where my parents settled down.

The return drive is perfectly doable but, it is not a particularly pleasant journey and being in the saddle for that length of time does take it out of one. Needs must though, so I booked three days off from work: one either side of the funeral itself. Due to the pandemic, I haven’t used much of my annual leave, and seeing as there’s only so much we can carry over into the next financial year, I thought I might as well use some up.

We were due at Breckland Crematorium at 1pm, for dad’s funeral, so obviously not wishing to be late, set off in plenty of time. We left Tonbridge at 8.30am, and whilst the traffic was steady, there were no holdups. The usual delays prior to the Dartford Crossing did not materialise, whereas normally there would have been congestion at that time of the morning.

This was probably due to a reduction in commuter traffic, but whilst the number of cars was definitely lower, the same could not be said about the lorries. Commercial vehicles of varying sizes abounded, including a fair number of foreign registered trucks, undeterred by the border chaos caused by leaving the Single Market. How could this act of lunacy have ever been considered a wise move?

Another thing that was increasingly evident, especially around the M25, was the poor state of the road surface, with rather too many potholes, including some potentially suspension wrecking craters. This really isn’t good enough, but then if government money has been squandered on converting large swathes of Kent into giant lorry parks, perhaps not surprising.

Despite these obstacles, we made good time, following the time honoured route of M11 and then A11, through Essex, a small section of Cambridgeshire and Suffolk into Norfolk. I know this route like the back of my hand, to the extent of every roundabout, what lane to be in, and the position of the speed cameras.

Breckland Crematorium is a new addition to the local area and from our point of view, saved a journey into Norwich and its congested inner ring road. It is in an attractive rural location, close to the village Scoulton, to the west of Watton.  Rather surprisingly, it’s a family-owned concern, rather than being run by the local authority.

We arrived a couple of hours early, so after parking up broached the picnic that Mrs PBT’s had packed up for us. A flask of coffee and a few sandwiches later, we took a drive into nearby Watton, for a quick look. The Hare & Barrel Hotel on the western edge of the town, where I’d spent a night a few years ago, ceased trading before the pandemic, but there are still several other hostelries closer to the centre. Watton also seems well served by Chinese and Indian takeaways, along with a Transylvanian shop – Romanian, presumably? And good too to see an independent butcher and several bakers.

We returned to the crematorium to await the arrival of my younger sister and her own grown-up children. The pandemic sadly meant my other sister was unable to fly over from the United States, although she was able to view the service via a live webcast. Other relations, including the Welsh contingent, were also unable to travel – the latter group falling foul of the same constraints regarding hotels, as us.

Dad’s age – he was five months’ short of his 90^th birthday, meant that surviving friends and contemporaries are few and far between, so sadly it was a rather thin turnout present, to say farewell to him. We’d chosen a celebrant rather than a priest to preside over the service, as whilst mum was deeply religious, dad was far less so, and went along with the church side of things just to keep his wife happy.

It was a nice and very moving service, with the celebrant leading the introductory words of welcome, based on information about dad that I’d supplied to her, followed by me reading out some memories of dad and his life, that I’d written. I’d been told beforehand, to speak up and talk into the microphone. Fortunately, I was permitted to remove my mask whilst reading out my tribute.

It was difficult, at times, not to choke up, but I managed to compose myself for most of my talk. It was the music that really brought out the emotion, especially the introductory track “Puff, the Magic Dragon,” by Peter, Paul & Mary. This was a favourite song from childhood, and one which dad liked too, whilst my sister and I were growing up. There is something powerful about music that can really stir the emotions, and this track certainly did this with me.

After the service, we all trooped outside managing to suppress the very powerful human instinct to hug one another. We agreed to meet up, as a family, for a proper get together, once this Covid nonsense is over. Dad’s ashes will need to be interned, in the plot next to mum at the natural cemetery and ceremonial park at Green Acres, on the outskirts of Norwich, so there will be at least one more trip up to Norfolk.

We drove home via Watton, Mundford and Brandon, passing the massive USAF base at Lakenheath, where my American brother-in-law had been stationed, before re-joining the A11 at Barton Mills. The return journey was uneventful, with again no hold-ups, although traffic on the approaches to the QE2 Bridge was predictably heavy.

So, despite news reports of motorists being stopped for travelling out of their immediate location, we did not see a single police car, let alone a checkpoint. Our outward and return crossings of the Thames at Dartford will obviously have been recorded, but as I have a Dart Charge account, the fees will automatically be debited from my account.

We had a lie in on Wednesday morning, before getting ready to go out shopping. Shortly before midday, I answered a call on the landline. It was our local medical centre in Tonbridge, offering Eileen and I a Covid vaccination the following afternoon. We both of course, said yes, even though it meant me taking an additional half day off from work.

The Baptist church, at the north end of Tonbridge, has been commandeered as a vaccination centre. We took a drive down that afternoon to check out things such as parking, and then on Thursday afternoon, I left work early and collected Mrs PBT’s from her workplace.

We arrived at the vaccination centre in good time, parked and joined the queue. It was all very well organised, with an army of volunteers assisting. After checking in, we were both interviewed by a doctor, who happened to be from our own practice, before being shown into the main hall, instructed to roll up our sleeves in order for a nurse to give us that all important, shot in the arm.

We were told beforehand that it was the Oxford AstraZeneca vaccine we’d be getting, and after the injection we were given a card, with the date, time and batch number of the jab, along with a date and time for the second shot. I must admit to feeling quite emotional about the whole thing, which really is a splendid example of the coming together of the scientific, research and healthcare communities in order to develop, test and roll out this vaccine in record time.

Those driving were asked to remain seated in the hall for 15 minutes, just to check for any possible reaction, and then we were free to go. We’ve both experienced very mild, flu-like symptoms that are similar to those associated with the flu vaccine. It will take three weeks for this first shot to confer maximum protection – of around 60%, with the second injection boosting this to around 90%.

Our combined medical practices in Tonbridge have done a first-class job and seem to be ahead of neighboring towns such as Tunbridge Wells. Eileen and I only turned 65 last year, so feel both grateful and privileged to have received the vaccine so rapidly. We will need to continue complying with current guidelines of mask wearing and social distancing, until the situation is well and truly under control, but at least in a few weeks’ time we will feel more confident about mixing with others. This will be a particularly welcome boost to Mrs PBT’s.

I said it had been an emotional week!