Respect to those that create the proper pub atmosphere

It’s a grand old Victorian pub that had been closed for some time and threatened with redevelopment, until I refitted and reopened it. I was a publican for seven years, owning two pub businesses during that time​ - the Gunmakers in Clerkenwell (a Punch lease) and the Finborough (free of tie) - with an eight month overlap. Beforehand I’d practiced as a banking lawyer in the City.

Respect​

I leave running pubs behind me with a real respect for those who make this industry their life.

The landlords and landladies of this country could not be more diverse, yet the comradeship and mutual understanding between them could not be stronger. These men and women - who in recent years have run their own small businesses in the teeth of a fierce recession, an unreasoning anti-alcohol lobby and depressing, anti-social trends - have so much in common, despite coming from so many different backgrounds.

I remember a day last summer when I found myself perilously short staffed following an unfortunate series of incidents where a keyholding employee had left one of my pubs unlocked overnight (three times, no less).

I was at a quiet pub in Rotherhithe licking my wounds and contemplating my impossible situation. The landlord observed my furrowed brow, and asked what was wrong. I told him. Within five minutes this man who I’d never met before had arranged for one of his own team to come and help me for the duration.

Magical​

It’s emotionally and physically taxing to run a pub. Most are, let’s face it, marginal businesses, run by people who have motivations that go beyond pure financial gain. It might well be that your pub is one where people have met together for decades, or even centuries, to enjoy good beer, food and companionship. But every time that magical thing we think of as a proper pub atmosphere ​manifests itself, it could not have happened without you.

Every day in a pub is unique, and every spontaneous outbreak of timeless conviviality belongs to the moment, and moreover belongs only to you and the others present.

You should never say never, but certainly for now I'm happy on this side of the bar. I want regular sleeping and eating patterns, for one thing. The day after I sold the Finborough I met some of my old Gunmakers regulars at Ye Olde Mitre for an entirely liquid lunch then repaired to my old haunt, the Jerusalem Tavern, for a pint of mild.

It was great to be a customer again. I’ll always love pubs.

Jeff Bell is a former licensee and has his own blog stonch.blogspot.com​​