Not going out

Want to read another miserable night on the town story? If not, look away now.

I am going to follow the Observer food writer Jay Rayner in not naming last night’s dud venues. Even though our experience was rubbish, the pub sector is in desperate trouble at the moment and people’s jobs are in the balance. Looking back on last night’s shit show, I cannot see how pubs will survive much more of this.

We chose our pub on the basis that it had big screens showing the football, so we could enjoy some beer at the same time Liverpool knocked Arsenal out of the Rumbelows Cup. But when we arrived at the door of Pub A, we were told it was full. However, they said we could sit in the garden, a generous offer we declined on the grounds that it was 9c and pissing down with rain.

Pub B appeared to have space, but it didn’t have the football on so we passed that one, making our way to Pub C. This is a nice pub where I had been with my son a month or so ago. But there was a queue outside and there was no TV.

Pub D was full, according to the friendly bar man so we made our way to Pub E, which is not a great pub and – yes, it was full, pre booking only.

On then to Pub F which did have the football on. The person on the door told us they were full, too, so we made our way to Pub G, somewhere I had visited in recent years prior to Bristol Rovers games. It was dark and dingy and, in my best snobbish manner, I was not enamoured with some of the clientele. Finally, it was on to Pub H, the Annexe in Bishopston. Happily, it had everything, especially spare tables. After registering our presence, we sat down, removed our masks and ordered Thatcher’s Dry as Liverpool powered to their inevitable…er…defeat on penalties.

The Annexe represented a good experience, certainly compared with the evening’s non-experiences and I’d consider going there again. The others, probably not.

I regard an evening in the pub as very much a social outing. I love the gentle hubbub of noise from conversations, sometimes the musical accompaniment and even the queue at the bar. This is not the COVID-19 pub experience. You can’t move around the pub, apart from to the toilet, and even then you must wear a mask. (Can I just add that many men still do not wash their hands after visiting the bathroom? Some things never change.) And you know what? I am now at the stage where, quite frankly, I would rather stay at home than visit a pub. But that’s not just the diminished pub experience. It’s getting there and getting back.

I rarely enjoy travelling by bus. Bristol’s double deckers bump and bounce all over the place and – surprisingly for being on the bus – it stops all over the place. The 7.00pm bus didn’t turn up so we had an irritating 20 minute wait for one that did. We were delayed by a ‘police incident’ on Filton Avenue during which a police vehicle blocked the road. Our driver was furious and when the officer moved it, he shouted, “Now that wasn’t hard, was it?” From then on, he drove like a man possessed, trying to make up time or angry, or maybe both. We were glad to get off.

Time was called at the Annexe at 9.20pm. Sadly, we managed to catch the end of the penalty shoot out and made our way to Gloucester Road to the bus stop. Every other pub turned out at exactly the same time so social distancing did not exist. I could not think of a better way to spread the virus than to ensure that everyone is spilling out onto the street at the same time and packing bus shelters and buses. Standing at the bus stop, numerous people rushed by with hastily purchased booze from nearby stores, presumably to consume them indoors. I cannot believe science can have had any role in shutting pubs early.

Buses are not completely full at the moment due to social distancing measures so there is a real risk of the one you have been waiting for sailing by your stop, leaving a very long wait until the next one, if it turns up at all (we have endured a number of cancellations). It’s all added stress that I didn’t need. A relaxing evening out at times became anything but.

I will make the occasional pub visit in town when I can use the excellent Metrobus service, but the Gloucester Road will be a no no for me from now on, as will anywhere that I have to rely on ultra slow public transport.

I love pub life and I don’t want to see good pubs go to the wall, but what can you do? I can order four bottles of decent ale from Asda and Morrisons for £6, whereas in a pub I am paying that for one pint. At home, everything is the same. I can settle down in my armchair and enjoy a glass of red and not have to fret about the bar shutting at 9.20, whether my bus will turn up and if I have a greater risk of catching the virus.

Just at the time when my mental health has improved enough to encourage me to go out again, I don’t really want to go out.