I’ve missed the pub and all its characters, even Mr and Mrs Fidget

I’ VE been to the local pub. Admittedly that might not be earth-shattering news to you but it is the first time I’ve set foot in the door for almost seven months. Seeing as this is a column rather than the breaking news section of our newspaper I’m going to share it with you.

And within moments of being led to our socially distanced table by our perfectly PPE’d barmaid I can tell you this ... absolutely nothing has changed.

A few years ago, in this very column, I wrote a piece about the characters who drink in our local.

The man who is the spitting image of Eric Cantona, the hoitytoity couple who are always dressed so immaculately they look like they should be in a high-end bar rather than our more spit and sawdust boozer and the Welshman who, as racial stereotypes go, tries (and almost always fails) to engage anyone who will listen in a conversation about rugby.

There is also another couple who, over the decade or so we have visited the pub, appear fidgety from the moment they arrive until the people he glares at until they leave afford them the opportunity to sit at their favourite table in the corner. Last Sunday, as we crossed the threshold and sat down, the Welshman was sitting with his partner, eagerly tucking into his roast and, lo and behold, behind us were the Fidgets.

They were shown to their table – there is an online booking system – but within minutes, said corner table was free and they were over there like a pair of bitter-drinking Usain Bolts.

I am not 100% sure on the rules about switching tables during the current crisis but whatever it is they didn’t seem to care as they plonked their backsides down at their favourite spot.

“It is like we’ve never been away,” Mrs Naylor whispered to me over the table as I got increasingly angry trying and failing to order our drinks over some godforsaken app or other I had to download to enable me to do so.

And she was, as she almost always is, perfectly correct.

September is the first month that my wife and I have, together, been to any form of pub or bar as a couple since the darned pandemic forced the UK into lockdown in March.

Our first foray was to a place we often stop at when we travel to the North East, as we did on a rare week off, at the start of the month.

While away we went to a second pub and now, having returned to our local for the first time last weekend, we have visited a third.

On each occasion, the staff have been understandably welcoming and also strictly sticking to the rules which are now in place.

Sadly, it appears, some of the clientele aren’t so accommodating.

I don’t intend to rant about the necessity to keep away from other people and put a mask on when and where you should as that is perfectly plain.

But have some common sense, eh, people?

What is clearly apparent from our rare foray to the local is that pubs and bars need our business.

They need our pounds to keep going and to offer us all a place of retreat from the stresses and strains everyday life brings us.

We have been away from our regular haunt for too long and for obvious reasons but now we have dipped our toes in the water and while it is safe to do so, we will be back.

Long live the local.

What is clearly apparent from our rare foray to the local is that pubs and bars need our business