The view was different tonight: the village pub was locked
up and dark. There’s a picture of it here if anybody’s interested.
It might not be the prettiest of English country pubs, but
that isn’t the point. The point is that it used to be a social focus for the
community. If this indicates that the landlord has finally said ‘enough’s
enough,’ then I assume it says something about the changing nature of English
village communities. Christine can say all she likes about the locals
supporting the annual fete at the Old Rectory, but when a village pub closes
for lack of use, something has already gone.
It might be, I suppose, that the landlord is ill or away or
something, and couldn’t find anybody to stand in for him. That isn’t very
likely. One of the cherished traditions of the English pub is that they open on
time come hell or high water. I suspect this is the end of the line for the
Roston Inn. It would be nice to be wrong.
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