Monday, 28 November 2011

A Sad Passing, Maybe.

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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