Mark Daniels: It's the thought that counts...

Pubs are struggling. Hundreds are closing every month. Twenty six licensees are going to court today for broadcasting football illegally (plenty more are in the pipeline for prosecution). Hundreds more licensees are planning a boycott on their landlords. Business rates are to increase exponentially. The supermarkets are winning the battle and Gordon Brown's got tears in his eyes.

Reading about pubs right now makes very depressing reading, which is a shame.

We should be shouting about the good things, telling the public how great pubs are; getting them to want to come through the doors. But we're not - instead, every time a newspaper is opened there's another story about another publican who's got another chip on his shoulder.

Last week, Postman Pat decided to go on strike. Headlines in the newspapers are screaming that if we don't post our Christmas Cards NOW they won't be there in time for next Christmas, let alone this one, and the union leaders believe that the good old British public will back the posties' decision to strike.

But they won't. Instead, they'll just get annoyed. My Nana's Christmas Cards won't get delivered, small businesses will struggle because the cheques won't be arriving in time and a general feeling of despair for our once great nation and its iconic red vans will simply settle over us.

It's the same with pubs. There are so many negative stories about pubs now that the general public are beginning to feel despondent about our once great industry. A vicious circle is beginning as people read stories in the press of pub closures and expensive beer, and nobody wants to come in to an empty pub and listen to a landlord lament the passing of his once great trade.

We're all guilty of it at some point or another...

What we should be trying to do is get the good news stories out there. We should be telling people how great pubs are. We should be shouting from the rooftops about community spirit and clubbing together and standing shoulder to shoulder watching our national football team and sharing a pint with friends at the end of a busy week and telling them of something nice that happened to us.

But we're not. Rather, vast swathes are planning the destruction of the pub companies who own our buildings and ultimately plotting the further demise of our own businesses. I'm a tied-tenant, I empathise fully with every single person struggling, but I don't condone the over-zealous actions of some, and I don't believe that everybody who works for a pubco or brewery is directly related to Satan.

In fact, I'd like to say a public thank you to Fiona Hope, Marketing Director at Greene King, for putting a very big smile on my face recently.

Back in July we suffered some 'trophy' thefts. We're all familiar with them - a group come in to the pub, spot a picture they want, pinch it and photograph the empty space. It gives them kudos amongst their brethren. On this particular occasion, the group in question pinched a plant pot, the automatic air freshener from the ladies' loo, and two Abbot Ale branded ashtrays from the smoking shelter.

The plant didn't bother me - it was most likely dead - and the air freshner amused me: who the hell would want to pinch something that'll make their bedroom smell like a pub toilet? But the ashtrays annoyed me. They were old and, whilst not necessarily valuable, pretty much irreplaceable.

Greene King don't do branded ashtrays any more, but Fiona read about our 'loss' in the village newsletter that I write a piece in and decided to see if she could help. Unbeknown to me or my wife, Fiona found some Greene King branded ashtrays in a second-hand shop somewhere, and decided to buy them for us.

She didn't put a big smile on my face because she replaced two missing ashtrays - I have plenty of less attractive ones to use - but because it was a selfless act that showed that some of the people who work for our landlords do take notice of the little things sometimes.

I know it's easy to pick holes, to say that if the smoking ban wasn't in effect the ashtrays would have been indoors and therefore harder to nick, that the high cost of my rent more than covered the couple of quid Fiona may well have claimed back in expenses, or indeed that two old ashtrays could just have been found sitting around in an old Greene King warehouse rather than an antiques shop.

But I don't care. It's the thought that counts.

And, more importantly, when I told the story to some of my regulars that evening it brought a smile to their faces, too, and they raised a glass to Fiona - ashtray heroine of a tiny village local.

The good news stories don't have to be big, they just have to be good. And when they're good they make the customers feel better about their pub, and that makes them want to use it more...