A Modest Proposal for Sustainable Drinking

Over the Christmas period, two pubs local to me closed their doors. In all honesty it would be a real stretch for me to call either of them – the Frothblower's Arms and Bar 44 (aka the Ale & Cider Press) locals in the true sense but I'd been in both for more than a just a few drinks.

The Frothblowers' Arms was a tiny place, one of those really old pubs ceiling height is unforgiving to anybody above the five foot six. Most people feel like one of the Tall Men from the West entering some Hobbit's watering hole upon entering.


The ceiling beams boasted an impressive collection of horse brasses, many with the typical trio crescent moons and a few with the Masonic square and compasses. Considering the beams were practically at eye level upon walking in, you couldn't really miss them.

The pub also appeared to have got it's name and been at one point the meeting place for the Ancient Order of Froth Blowers, whose brasses and plaques also decorated the beams and walls.

The Ancient Order was a tongue-in-cheek fraternity who met regularly "to foster the noble Art and gentle and healthy Pastime of froth blowing amongst Gentlemen of-leisure and ex-Soldiers". From what I gather from memory of some of the framed documents hung on the wall of the pub (and Wikipedia) the frat seemed to me more interested in "beer, beef and baccy" than Great Architects or any higher cosmic mysteries – they just wanted a booze up and a meat raffle. The Ancient Order therefore qualifies as a1920's equivalent of the P.T.F.C.

Bar 44's origins as far as I'm able to tell don't quite have the same esoteric shroud of the Frothblower's Arms. But it did have Winston.

Winston could be seen propping up the bar during the pub's last few days and is one of those characters who can only really be described as larger than life. Resolutely British to the point of caricature, you could hear Winston's baritone renditions of 'Jerusalem' and 'God Save the Queen' reverberating off the urinal's ceramic as he went for a slash.

A Tory supporter through and through, Winston follows political opinion polls like football fans watch league tables. The first time I met him I asked him what he did for a living. He leaned back, took and exhaustive drag of his roll-up before saying in his Brian Blessed voice, “My boy, I work for B&Q.” Needless to say, we would both agree to disagree when it came to politics, although I've never been able to tell if he's ever being entirely serious.

Bar 44 drew more of a football crowd, which might explain Winston's presence and also why I didn't drink there very often. Not that I have a problem with people coming to the pub to watch football, it's just that I'm fairly indifferent to the game of football. I'd rather have a conversation with friends elsewhere than talk all over someone else's match.

Both of these places are now gone. Possible victims of the recession, which we're told is now over, they may well open again in the future. I doubt it. My home town used to be able to confidently boast one of the highest pub-to-person ratios in the UK. This is no longer true - numbers have been on the decline for years.

Part of decline for local pubs in the UK can be attributed to the success of the Wetherspoons chain. Obviously the chain, which runs nearly 750 pubs across the country has done well for a number of reasons – they all open early, they're quiet, they serve cheap food and cheap drinks.

I don't really think that a boycott would achieve anything – plus I like being able to get a cup of tea and a full English for a fiver. It's an excellent hangover cure. However, I propose that for every pint, glass of wine, shot, or mixer bought in a Wetherspoons ought to be offset by the purchase of two in your local. Sustainable drinking, like when logging firms plant ten new trees for every one cut down in order to maintain the balance.

It might not matter that much to you when a couple of pubs you didn't drink in that often get closed down. But it could be your local next.