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This morning, being a Bank Holiday, I strolled out through the quiet streets to attempt to take pictures of the houses in which my dead soldiers resided. By that I mean when they were alive, as they stopped living their when they became dead, the council would not allow it. Anyway it was quieter than a Sunday today, the sun almost shone, the rain threatened and moved away, and I took one or two hasty shots. I am not too keen on taking pictures of houses when people are seen inside. The gruff question regarding what I am playing at can cause offence, I've found. The policeman's quizzical look can also hinder a steady camera and therefore early morning is the most suitable time for such work. Amongst the interesting finds, to me at least, was this old pub I once delivered to. It ceased to operate as a public house a good few years ago and now houses this small company, and the two attractive young secretaries. Funny how I always remember such young women. Not that my memory is that good but they were early thirties, wearing green and blue tops, had nice....anyway, the windows. Wisely they have not removed the windows, or indeed repainted the place, although the massive amount of traffic outside their door today means the paintwork suffers badly. If you look close enough you will note the cleverly crafted advert for Spirits which can be seen.
In days of yore all pubs informed the world outside that they offered 'Fine wines,' 'blended whiskies,' and 'Famous Ales,' often on frosted glass panes. Whether they lived up to the adverts depended on how much the drinker imbibed I suppose. Until the absurdity of the feminist influence some public houses were drinking dens for men only, and I think this may well have been one such. Small, close to the massive Iron Foundry round the corner, and in the evening full of spit and sawdust, heavily drowned in cigarette smoke and a haven for the working man in which to lose his weeks wages before going home to be belted by his wife! Hmmm maybe this is an improvement!
It appears there were forty three public houses in this small town at one time. There is only about a dozen today. I wonder what that says about society today? We have drunks on our streets night after night the press tell us, is this such a novelty? Could it be it was only drunk working men in days gone by, so that is alright then? Jesus drank wine, and the best he served up at a wedding, but he was never drunk, so drink has its place, not remembering what you did last night does not. Actually I have trouble remembering what I did last night anyway.
The Victorians had great trouble with water supplies and drinking beer was a much safer option for many. Living in squalid accommodation meant that gas lit pubs, often with entertainment on offer, (this grew into the Music Hall) and the companionship of like minded souls made such places an attraction. Better housing, the radio, TV, the death of heavy industry and the end of male only pubs has brought about great changes in society's approach to pubs. The recession today means more buy their booze from supermarkets and drink at home rather than be ripped off by a 'local.'
People get very romantic about pubs these days. The media tell us the streets are full of drunken yobs (shocked that many are women as if that is something new) yet tell us we ought to help keep pubs open as they are centres of the 'Community?' Really? Maybe in a village situation but not in the real world. Sad to say that these places mean little to me today. Drink is fine in its place but a bottle of Guinness is more than enough for me today. The desire to spend money on drink holds no joy, although the companionship of good people found there does! The men who filed in the 'Freemasons Arms' after work, bringing a smell of sweat, cigarettes and iron with them, would be amazed to see the plush pubs on offer today. They would probably be delighted with many of them but regret the passing of their own little hideaway. The women, rightly stuck aside in the 'snug, would be much happier with the pubs of today, the cleanliness, the brightness, although whether they would care for the twenty foot football screen depends on many things. OK, who's round is it? What? er...is that the time? er, em... I must be off now, I er, have a bus to catch, bye....
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