A Love Letter To The Pub

Words by Alice Dunlop

Images and Illustrations by Martha Wood-Saanaoui

Like the Americans take an Oath, the pub is the rite of passage for British society. It’s something we take seriously but jovially all in the same breath. It’s the nightly migration to your local boozer for something to lighten the mood or celebrate your spirits. It’s there for all means of disappointment and merriment. Here, thoughts of tomorrow dissipate and absorb in to the atmosphere, with only thoughts of maybe what takeaway might entice you on the way home. There are many things we took for granted before this mundane life became reality, but the simplicity of the question “pub?” is up there at the top.

So, for anyone looking to take part in this rite of passage, simply stand there with confidence, know your order and take your seat. Welcome to the pub.

This one is for all the sticky floors now smooth and clean.

The clean air that now fills the wooden clad pool rooms,

With no smokers to pass through.

The empty gardens that helped pass the short summer days and long winter nights,

We miss you.

This one is for the locals with no teenagers to judge,

With their fake ID and order of vodka and coke.

For the stares you gave when anyone 20 years your youth walked through the door,

We miss you.

This one is for the beer taps left useless,

With no Amstel or Carling to poor.

The vodka left unopened with no cranberry to mix,

And the spilling of a full pint over the already sticky floors,

We miss you.

The queues for the toilets and the queues for the bar,

Isn’t something you’d get if “we just bought a crate from Sainsburys up the road and went home”.

Forgive those people,

They don’t understand.

This one is for the groups huddled outside,

Who never feel the cold.

To the lads in their football shirts,

Shouting and cheering “GOAL”,

We miss you.

This one is for the landlords and owners,

At home with no pub to go to.

To the bartenders and staff,

Who think just like us,

We miss you.