tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25425212989067233972024-02-19T23:36:50.583+00:00Curmudgeon's "Opening Times" ColumnsRanting monthly about pubs and beer since May 1993Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.comBlogger112125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-58871363559512795502020-03-01T07:20:00.000+00:002020-03-01T07:20:11.505+00:00March/April 2020<p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Very Early Doors</b></span>
<p>
<i>Extended licensing hours give people the freedom to use pubs at times that suit them</i>
<p>
THE DETERMINED band of drinkers who assemble in the average Wetherspoon’s at 9 am are often viewed with a mixture of amusement, derision and pity, and singled out as an example of the downside of extended licensing hours. However, if you actually look at what they’re doing, they’re not settling in for an all-day session: many will be gone at lunchtime, and pretty much all by mid-afternoon. This isn’t all that different from the regular sessions straight through from teatime to 11 pm that used to be entirely normal. In many cases they will only be drinking at a leisurely pace too.
<p>
There was recently an outbreak of moral panic in the media when it was reported that a non-Wetherspoons pub in Great Yarmouth was even offering a happy hour from 9 am to 11 am. But the reality, as reported by the “Eastern Daily Press”, was more a general feeling of conviviality. One customer said “I love the atmosphere in here and it's great to catch up with my mates. The pints are cheap and everyone is in good spirits”, while a barmaid commented “Everyone knows each other in here and they just have a laugh. There's no trouble.” Isn’t that what pubs are supposed to be all about?
<p>
Other customers gave safety as a reason for coming out earlier. One said “I don't feel safe coming into the town any later. There are too many yobs on the streets and who knows what might happen”, and another added “It's not safe for someone like me who has health problems to come to the pub in the evening.” These fears may seem a touch exaggerated, but many towns that encourage a lively nightlife do develop a distinct “atmosphere” later in the evening that makes older drinkers feel uncomfortable.
<p>
It may not be something that appeals to you or me; it’s unlikely to meet with the approval of the public health lobby, and it’s certainly not compatible with holding down a full-time job. But isn’t this really just a case of the liberalisation of licensing hours opening up opportunities for people to go to the pub at times that suit them? Rather than laughing or sneering at the early-morning drinkers, shouldn’t we just accept that people now have the freedom to use pubs in different ways, and at different times of day?
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<hr>
<p>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Measure for Measure</b></span>
<p>
<i>Even if you don’t drink it in pints, price per pint is still the way to compare beer prices</i>
<p>
YOU SOMETIMES see stories in the media expressing shock over some rare, mega-strong craft beer being sold in a bar for the equivalent of £22 a pint or thereabouts. This inevitably results in some people saying “why are you expressing it as a price per pint when it isn’t going to be drunk in pints?” Well, probably it isn’t, but that isn’t the point. For any commodity, if you’re making price comparisons, it’s still desirable to have a consistent yardstick, and given that the pint is the standard unit for draught beer then it seems sensible to use it. This line of argument comes across as trying to cover your embarrassment.
<p>
Wine prices are generally quoted by the bottle, even though you drink it by the glass. You often hear of expensive wines being "£100 a bottle" or suchlike. Likewise, in the supermarket, the prices of various cuts of meat are quote as price per kilogram, although nobody eats a steak that size. Anyone with any knowledge of beer is well aware that stronger beers cost more because of the higher duty and the greater amount of raw materials needed. But, locally, you can buy Robinson’s 8.5% Old Tom for the equivalent of £7 to £8 a pint in pubs, so in comparison anything over £20 still seems pretty eyewatering. <p>
Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-43863609377457366462020-01-01T09:03:00.000+00:002020-01-01T09:03:00.605+00:00January/February 2020<p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Charge More, Sell Less</b></span>
<p>
<i>A premium pricing strategy will do nothing to help the long-term prospects of cask</i>
<p>
LAST AUTUMN, the latest edition of the annual Cask Report was published. It recorded cask sales falling more quickly than beer volumes in total, with a 5% drop over the past year, and cask now only accounting for one in seven pints sold in pubs, whereas only a few years ago it was one in six. The report argues that the way to combat this trend is to move towards “premiumisation”, in terms of quality, price and strength. But is that a realistic strategy, or just wishful thinking?
<p>
Quality should be taken as a given, and it’s certainly true that inconsistent and often downright poor beer is one of the key reasons deterring people from drinking cask. It is sometimes argued that higher prices will give brewers and pubs more to invest in quality, but that really is putting the cart before the horse. You can’t command a price premium until you have achieved that consistent quality, and at present drinkers won’t pay top dollar for a product that is often something of a lottery. Plus, by charging more, you will inevitably sell less, which may well make the quality issues even worse. Cask is a perishable product that is critically dependent on turnover. It is ill-suited to occupy a low-volume niche.
<p>
The historical reason that cask sells at a discount to keg ales and lagers is that it was originally the standard beer in pubs. Keg beers commanded a premium both because they were new innovations and because they incurred more processing and storage costs, with pasteurisation, cooling and CO2 cylinders. Although cask is often portrayed as “better”, it doesn’t inherently cost any more to make than keg, and, while it does take a little more care in the cellar, it isn’t really that difficult to keep well so long as you stick to a few simple rules.
<p>
Most cask is consumed by ordinary drinkers, not beer enthusiasts. It is usually the staple ale brand in pubs and is compared with lagers and smooth ales, not with craft keg. Many cask drinkers are people on a limited budget who have little scope to absorb hefty price increases. If cask goes up by 50p a pint, they will switch to smooth or lager. The report says that 59% of drinkers agreed in a poll that cask should cost more, but in practice would they be happy to pay it? In any case, cask beer isn’t exactly cheap at the moment, with the £4 pint very common now. The major exception is Wetherspoon’s, who are the single biggest retailer of cask beer, and an aggressive discounter, which makes it very difficult to shift the perception of the market.
<p>
The aspiration to move cask to a higher strength band also seems unrealistic. Yes, in general stronger beers are perceived as “premium” and can command higher prices, but there’s a limit to how much of them people want to drink. Most pub customers want to pace their drinking over a few hours, or will be going on to do something else later, and so don’t want anything too mindblowing. Pubs find it difficult to sell much cask beer above 4.5% ABV: if stronger beers are drunk at all, it’s often just one at the end of the evening.
<p>
With effort, premium pricing can certainly be achieved for individual brands and pubs, and for some this may represent a sensible business plan. But it’s just not going to happen for the category in general, and I get rather tired of commentators arguing that cask should cost more while displaying a failure to appreciate the reality of the market on the ground.
<p>
Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-88428890715397362672019-11-01T08:27:00.000+00:002019-11-01T08:27:07.146+00:00November/December 2019<p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Drying Out</b></span>
<p>
<i>There’s a limit to how far pubs can go in appealing to non-drinkers</i>
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A MAJOR problem for the pub trade is the growing proportion of young people who have chosen not to drink alcohol at all. In response to this, a recent report has said that 70% of “Generation Z” believe that pubs need to become “more inviting” to those who do not drink. This has to be taken with a pinch of salt given that it was sponsored by a coffee company, but it does make an important point.
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Clearly it makes sense for pubs to widen their appeal so that they can be more inclusive of non-drinkers. Customers are increasingly likely to consist of mixed groups of drinkers and abstainers. This can be achieved by providing higher-quality tea and coffee and soft drinks, offering food and putting on events like quizzes and live music. And, to be honest, they have been doing these things to a greater or lesser extent throughout my drinking career. It’s nothing new or exactly a startling revelation.
<p>
However, there’s an important caveat here. The core purpose of pubs is, and always has been, socialising centred around the consumption of alcoholic drinks. Yes, over the decades they have needed to evolve and change in various ways, but that fundamental fact remains unchanged. If nobody drank alcohol, there would be no pubs. Non-drinkers may enjoy various activities and services provided by pubs, but they wouldn’t exist in the first place without drinkers. It’s rather like non-alcoholic beer – it’s only there to mirror to some extent the taste and experience of drinking alcoholic beer.
<p>
If they go too far down the road of changing their offer, pubs may well find themselves evolving into something entirely different – a restaurant, a music venue or a community centre. It also has to be questioned to what extent all this diversification is actually going to bring new customers into pubs. It may make non-drinkers happier when they are there, but will it encourage them to visit more often?
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The reason that the pub trade has declined so much over recent years is essentially because, due to a combination of social and legislative changes, the demand for their core product has fallen. There’s a limit to how far they can go in catering for other needs. Realistically, the fortunes of the pub trade are closely linked to the proportion of people in society who enjoy drinking alcohol in a social setting.
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<hr>
<p>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Under Pressure</b></span>
<p>
<i>It’s hard to believe that twentysomethings now feel more pressure to drink than previous generations</i>
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IN A SIMILAR vein, another survey has claimed that Millennials feel five times more likely to be pressurised into drinking alcohol when socialising than older generations. Again this was produced on behalf of a company with a vested interest in the results, but I find it very hard to believe.
<p>
Over the past twenty years, the pressure to drink alcohol on social occasions has greatly reduced, and in many situations not drinking has become the norm. This is particularly the case with anything connected with work, after hours as well as at lunchtime. Indeed, it is often the person who chooses an alcoholic drink who stands out and ends up being stigmatised. We also have initiatives like “Dry January” where not drinking is presented as virtuous.
<p>
Maybe one area where this does happen is in higher education institutions, but they provide a huge range of social activities, most of which don’t involve drinking at all. The fact that someone has organised a Carnage pub crawl doesn’t mean you’re under any obligation to go on it. This is an example of the common phenomenon of something attracting more criticism as it becomes less popular. Forty years ago, there undoubtedly would have been more social pressure to drink, but nobody complained about it back then.
<p>Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-91497703013805659182019-09-01T08:19:00.001+01:002019-09-01T08:19:47.428+01:00September/October 2019<p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Beer That Dare Not Speak Its Name</b></span>
<p>
<i>Bitter needs to stop pretending to be something other than what it really is
</i>
<p>
A COUPLE of decades ago, there was a trend for brewers to start calling their milds anything but mild, in the belief that the name itself came across as old-fashioned and was putting drinkers off. Now this tendency has spread to bitter as well. At first it was mostly confined to beers at the stronger end of the scale, with Young’s Special and Marston’s Pedigree dropping the “Bitter” and just going by their one-word brand name. But it has now extended to the classic “ordinary” bitters, such as Hook Norton Hooky, with many of them denying that they are any kind of bitter at all, often just calling themselves “amber ale”.
<p>
It has been suggested that one reason behind this us the undesirable flavour connotations of the word “bitter”, but I’m not convinced by that. After all, we’ve been happily drinking it for decades, and “sours” have become popular in the craft world without anyone finding that term offputting. I’m sure it is more the case that “bitter” is seen as the beer your dad drank.
<p>
But “amber” itself is just a colour, and in fact is generally described as a rich gold, whereas many beers calling themselves such are copper or even chestnut. And nobody ever, when asked the question “what type of beer do you enjoy drinking?” replies “Oh, I like amber ale”. At least, round here, if you go in a Holt’s, Lees or Sam Smith’s pub, you can still ask for a pint of bitter and that is precisely what you will get.
<p>
Whether you like it or not, Bitter, while it covers a wide spectrum of colours and flavours, is perhaps the quintessential English beer style, and stands in the pub alongside other major categories such as mild, stout and lager. To try to deny its existence and break it down into a myriad of sub-styles just sows confusion and leaves drinkers adrift as to what it actually is. So maybe it’s time for brewers to say, loud and proud, that what they’re producing is Bitter, and stop trying to suggest that it’s just some fuzzy, ill-defined category of “Ale”.
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<hr>
<p>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing</b></span>
<p>
<i>Might handpumps be putting people off real ale as much as attracting them?</i>
<p>
HANDPUMPS have become an unmistakable symbol of real ale; if you go in a pub and see them on the bar, you know exactly what to expect. However, this can cut both ways, and, for many drinkers who have had too many bad experiences, they may mark it out as something not even to be considered. So it’s interesting to hear that Sharp’s Brewery are trialling a keg-style tall font for cask Doom Bar. There’s a clear statement on the mounting that it is cask beer, so nobody can claim that they are being deceived.
<p>
Thirty years ago, plenty of real ale was dispensed via electric pumps of various kinds, so in a sense it’s a case of the wheel coming full circle. There may be a strong association between real ale and handpumps in the public mind, but it no more needs to be served through them than it has to be delivered on horse-drawn drays or kept in wooden barrels. And the fashionable “keg-conditioned” beers are dispensed through taps indistinguishable from those used for normal kegs.
<p>
Of course there’s always the possibility that drinkers are so wedded to the concept of handpumps that it will deter more than it attracts. But it must be worth a try, to see whether it helps to make cask look more like everything else on the bar rather than something “other” to be avoided at all costs. It could also eliminate some of the variability caused by incompetent bar staff having little idea how to use handpumps. I’d certainly be keen to try it if I saw it.
<p>
Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-52029531836677743952019-07-03T11:23:00.000+01:002019-07-03T11:23:13.889+01:00July/August 2019<p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>When is a Pub not a Pub?</b>
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</span><i>It’s hard to pin down the difference between a pub and a bar, but you know one when you see one</i>
<p>
WHEN it’s a bar, of course. While there’s no specific legal distinction, the two carry very different connotations. This is not to say one is better than the other, but they’re certainly not interchangeable. However, it’s notoriously difficult to come up with a hard-and-fast definition separating one from the other. Beer writer Martyn Cornell has recently had another stab at it on his <a href="http://zythophile.co.uk/2018/12/08/so-what-is-the-difference-between-a-pub-and-a-bar/">Zythophile</a> blog, where he suggests that a key distinction is that pubs tend to have a bar at right angles to your path when coming in through the entrance door, whereas bars have their counter running along a side wall. Often, this is indeed the case, but it rather breaks down when you have a multi-roomed interior with different entrances. But perhaps bars don’t tend to have multi-roomed interiors anyway.
<p>
In general, while you can point to various characteristics that pubs usually have, and bars don’t, it’s always possible to come up with exceptions to the rule. Overall, it’s often a case of “you know one when you see one”. Pub names usually start with “The”, but bar names seldom do. Pubs are often specific buildings designed for the purpose, while bars tend to be part of a larger building. Pubs make use of the upper floors of the building, while a bar may be underneath something entirely different. The licensees of a pub are likely to live on the premises, but with a bar they hardly ever do. Bars are often aimed at a specific, identifiable “crowd”, while pubs seek a wider and more general clientele. And, at least outside urban centres, pubs often have car parks, but I can’t think of a single bar that does. A pub retains its identity through various changes of ownership, while that of a bar is very much tied up with its current trading format.
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Sometimes it’s less a question of physical aspects but how businesses choose to define themselves. On Stockport Market Place there are two recently-opened establishments right next door to each other – the Angel and Project 53. Both have a somewhat “crafty” ethos, but the Angel definitely comes across as a pub, whereas Project 53 is unquestionably a bar. With a new name and different decor, the Angel could be considered a bar, though.
<p>
The different connotations of the two categories will often influence how an establishment wants to be seen. One well-known London craft beer place took exception to being considered for a “Pub of the Year” award, because they identified themselves a bar. To them, a bar was modern and progressive, while “pub” suggested something stuffy and old-fashioned and very possibly belonging to Greene King or Punch Taverns.
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Some Wetherspoon’s, particularly those in their more modern design idiom that are conversions of former retail units, do very much say “bar” rather than “pub”, whereas others that are in existing pub premises, such as the Gateway in East Didsbury, are definitely pubs. However, their general atmosphere and wide customer mix are very much those of pubs regardless of their design. And, while their name says otherwise, I’d say that the vast majority of micropubs, going by the criteria set out above, are in reality small bars little different from the keg-only “box bars” often found in similar premises.
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At the other end of the scale, there’s also the vexed question of when a pub actually turns into a restaurant. Most restaurants obviously aren’t pubs, but quite a few have the outward appearance of pubs and indeed might once have been one. Strictly speaking, if anyone can come in and have a drink without needing to buy a meal, it doesn’t qualify as just being a restaurant. However, I’d say there also needs to be a test of whether any meaningful number of people actually do, and whether non-diners are made to feel welcome.
<p>Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-84547497962524499162019-05-01T11:42:00.001+01:002019-05-01T11:42:53.417+01:00May/June 2019<p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Squeezed Middle</b></span>
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<i>If we are concerned about their long-term survival, mid-sized brewers deserve a little more love</i>
<p>
THE SALE of Fuller’s brewing interests to Asahi underlined the exposed position in which many of the established, medium-sized firms find themselves. As a mid-sized brewer, Fuller’s said, it was being squeezed between the global giants and the 2,000 smaller brewers across the UK. The tax breaks given to microbrewers and the power of the big global drinks firms have left little space at the bar for those in the middle.
<p>
Progressive Beer Duty was introduced in 2002 by Gordon Brown with the aim of stimulating the number of small breweries in the UK. It has certainly succeeded in this objective, with over 2,000 now in operation. However, as with many such well-intentioned measures, it has had unintended consequences. The 50% duty relief on offer starts to be clawed back above an annual production of 5,000 hectolitres (3,055 barrels), and entirely disappears at 60,000 hl (36,661 barrels). Many of the established family brewers are above this figure, or only just below it. Fuller’s, who were one of the biggest, were producing about 200,000 barrels a year.
<p>
In practice, some of the new small brewers have used the duty relief not to bolster the finances of their business, but to sell beer more cheaply, putting the established brewers at a severe price disadvantage. The overall market share of these small brewers is relatively small, and to the likes of AB InBev they are no more than a pinprick on an elephant’s backside. But they have a much higher share of the market for cask beer in the free trade, and if you go in any pub that is able to buy beer on the open market it is likely that most of its cask lines are from microbreweries. Many of these beers are very good, but the main reason some of them are there is that they are cheap to buy.
<p>
The mid-sized brewers found that the general decline of on-trade beer consumption and the rise of lager greatly reduced the amount of beer they were producing from their own breweries. But, at the same time, the rise of up-market dining provided an opportunity for some of the pubs in their tied estates, and many of them bought more as cast-offs from the debt-ridden pubcos. This essentially turned them into pubcos with an under-utilised brewery as a sideline. Fuller’s reckoned that 85% of their profits came from their pubs and hotels, so it is perhaps understandable that they decided to concentrate on that part of their business and accept an attractive offer for the brewing side.
<p>
It’s also debateable whether you can make such a clear distinction between the brewing and pub sides of the business, as to some extent they support each other. If you separate them, both will be diminished and their viability undermined. A brewery produces a unique, identifiable product that is recognisable to customers and may command a great deal of loyalty, but a pubco is, well, just another pubco, and in the long-term that must make them more vulnerable to takeover. Fuller’s stood out from the crowd both because of the high profile of their beers and the valuable redevelopment potential of their site. But the announcement of this deal will certainly have given many directors of family brewers cause for thought about their long-term future.
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It’s often the case that people attract warm tributes when they die while having a much more equivocal reputation during their lives, and it’s hard to avoid the feeling that some of those shedding crocodile tears over the sale of Fuller’s were happy a year before to dismiss London Pride as “boring brown beer”. Maybe if we want to help the prospects of the family brewers, beer enthusiasts should give them a bit more love as upholders of a unique British tradition, rather than constantly chasing after the novel and trendy.
<p>Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-23415689401155822662019-03-01T08:50:00.002+00:002019-03-01T08:50:33.950+00:00March/April 2019<p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Sense of Place</b></span>
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<i>We have lost something valuable with the erosion of the link between beer and locality</i>
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WHEN I first became interested in real ale, perhaps what fascinated me most was how there was a patchwork of independent breweries the length and breadth of the country, ranging from regional giants such as Vaux and Wolverhampton & Dudley to tiny firms like Bathams and Burts. Each had its own territory, its own distinctive beers and very often its own style of pub. It was a lesson in geography, with strongholds, heartlands and outposts.
<p>
To visit an area and sample the beers of one of the more obscure breweries for the first time was a voyage of discovery. You could go to a city only fifty or sixty miles away and be presented with an entirely different selection of beers, such as Home and Shipstone in Nottingham or Mitchells and Yates & Jackson in Lancaster. One of the pleasures of going on holiday was sampling the local brew such as St Austell in Cornwall or Adnams in Suffolk. Progress on a long road journey was marked by the changing brewers’ names on the pub signs.
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It wasn’t confined to the independents, either, as all the Big Six national brewers retained some kind of regional identity in their beer range and pub branding. Indeed, in the early 1980s we saw a revival of local names, something especially marked with Allied Breweries, who created dedicated pub estates for old brands such as Peter Walker, and Benskins. Overall it provided a rich tapestry of local and regional identity in beer.
<p>
Since those days, the number of independent family breweries has more than halved, with ten being lost in the North-West alone. Very often, those that remain see themselves more as pub companies that happen to have an ale brewery as a sideline. The disruption following the Beer Orders resulted in the transfer of the former tied estates of the Big Six to pub companies and the loss of their distinct identities. Increasingly, pub company outlets have come to offer the market-leading beers regardless of supplier, and the drinker of mainstream kegs and lagers has less choice overall than there was prior to 1990. .
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Against this has to be set the dramatic rise in the number of microbrewers, and in the sheer variety of beer styles being produced. In theory, there is more choice than ever before, and for many beer enthusiasts it has opened up a cornucopia of delights. But each pub is limited in the number of lines it can stock, especially of cask beer, and what you’re actually going to find in the pub often becomes a lottery. You can’t exercise choice in a meaningful way if you don’t know what to expect, and in effect, “beer range varies” has in itself become a single option.
<p>
Some of the new generation of breweries have established a strong regular foothold in pubs, but there’s no sign outside to say so, and thus the visible identification between brewery and pub is broken. In 1978, if you wanted to sample an obscure beer, you might have a long journey, but you could probably find it in one of its brewer’s pubs, whereas now it can become a wild goose chase. Of course we have gained something through the massive increase in both the number of breweries and beer styles being produced. But we have also lost something valuable in the way the link between beer and place has been eroded through the decline of tied estates.
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On a brighter note, it is good to see the trend being reversed in a small way by brewers such as Joules, Titanic and Wye Valley building up their own pub estates, And of course that is exactly what BrewDog are doing by opening a chain of bars in big cities majoring on their own beers.
<p>Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-21541046643803907002019-01-01T09:52:00.000+00:002019-01-01T09:52:09.174+00:00January/February 2019<p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>What Goes Around, Comes Around</b></span>
<p>
<i>After ripping out all the internal walls, compartmentalised pubs are coming back into fashion</i>
<p>
SIXTY years ago, most pubs in the UK had a compartmentalised interior layout. Typically, they would have the standard demarcation between public bar and “best room” – the term “lounge” was not yet in general use. Some had a three-level division between public, saloon and lounge, with subtle gradations in clientele and ambiance between the three. Plus, there could be a whole variety of other rooms such as news rooms, tea rooms, games rooms and, at the time, ladies’ rooms.
<p>
But, since then, pretty much all this has been swept away by knocking pubs through into a single-bar layout. The main reason always given for this was that it reflected a more democratic and egalitarian society in which the old class divisions no longer applied, and there’s certainly some truth in that. But it also made pubs easier to manage and supervise, plus in the 1960s and early 70s there was the factor that public bar prices were subject to government price control, which could be circumvented by turning the entire pub into a lounge.
<p>
However, it didn’t always work out quite as intended. In many cases, rather than everyone happily mixing together in the same pub, the class division moved from one between different bars to one between different pubs. The middle classes used one pub, the working classes another. But, according to a recent report, a growing number of pub operators are realising that there is a need to cater for different audiences within a single venue, and are thus returning to the concept of pub “zoning”. It’s all too easy if you’re not careful for one aspect of a pub to take over the whole place and alienate many potential customers.
<p>
There are two obvious divisions between different customer groups that often rankle in pubs today. One is showing big-screen TV sport, which brings in a specific crowd who may well put a lot of money across the bar, but deters those who just want a quiet drink. And allowing children, while key to the concept of family dining, is something that that those who prefer an adults-only environment feel uncomfortable with. Plus, if legislation permitted, there would be a strong argument for a division between smoking and non-smoking areas.
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<hr>
<p>
<span style="font-size: large;">
<b>Cashing Up</b></span>
<p>
<i>There are dangers in the rush to relegate cash to history</i>
<p>
A GROWING trickle of pubs and bars are deciding to go entirely cashless and stop accepting any payments in cash. Cashless payments are a growing feature of the financial landscape, and obviously it makes business sense for many pubs to accept them. But to refuse to take cash entirely is something entirely different, and comes across as an attempt to practice social selection of your clientele.
<p>
This may not be a problem in a rural gastropub, but in inner-city boozers it’s a common sight to see the pound coins being counted out on to the bar to pay for a pint. It is estimated that there are 1.6 million unbanked workers in the UK, and there must be many more pensioners and benefit claimants, not to mention people who simply prefer to avoid using cards for routine transactions. It’s effectively saying that you’re not interested in the business of the poor or the old.
<p>
There are other reasons to be wary of adopting cashless payments. They make budgeting more difficult and make you vulnerable to power cuts and computer failures. You are also putting yourself in the hands of corporations that may not have your best interests at heart. And someone is able to track exactly where you have been and what you have spent your money on. By all means use cashless payments where they are convenient, and allow them in your pubs, but there are dangers in the headlong rush to relegate cash to history.
<p>
Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-81175052580303377262018-11-01T08:40:00.001+00:002018-11-01T08:40:59.124+00:00November/December 2018<p><b><span style="font-size: large;">A Mixed Blessing</span> </b>
<p>
<i>All-day pub opening is undoubtedly a good thing, but it has had its negative side</i>
<p>
THIS YEAR saw the thirtieth anniversary of the introduction of all-day opening for pubs, which came in on 22 August 1988. From the perspective of today, it is hard to believe that pubs were required to close for two or three hours every afternoon. Originally introduced by Lloyd George as an emergency measure during the First World War, it lingered on for over seventy years.
<p>
There were predictions of mayhem in the streets after people had been drinking for hours, but needless to say nothing of the kind occurred. However, it’s important to remember that pubs didn’t immediately fling their doors open. For quite a few years, most stuck to the old pattern of opening. I remember it being well-nigh impossible to find anywhere open in central Manchester on a Saturday afternoon after 3 pm. It was only the pressure from Wetherspoon’s and other pub chains that forced the generality of pubs to follow suit. It also initially didn’t apply to Sundays, which were only brought in to line in 1995.
<p>
However, it’s now become well-nigh universal for pubs in urban centres, and for food-led pubs in general. Overall, it’s hard to dispute that it’s greatly benefited pubgoers, allowing pubs to tailor their hours to what their customers actually want. It makes trips out to sample the pubs in a different area much easier, and has also led to a noticeable trend of pubs having a busy session around four in the afternoon when many tradespeople knock off.
<p>
While many pubs with footfall throughout the day benefited from the extended opening times, others found that they were spreading the same amount of customers over a greater number of hours, and thus increased costs. Therefore they had to look critically at when it actually would be financially worthwhile to be open, something that has become even more of a priority in the current century when there has been a steady decline in the overall business of pubs.
<p>
We now have a growing number of pubs that don’t open at all on one or more days of the week, while outside town centres, wet-led pubs are more often than not deciding not to open at all at lunchtimes, either on weekdays or even seven days a week. I’d guess that, if you took a set of pubs in a typical area that have been trading throughout the 1988-2018 period, the total amount of opening hours would actually be markedly less now than it was thirty years ago. Allied to this, there is much greater uncertainly as to when pubs will actually be open, which is made worse by the fact that so few pubs display their hours outside.
<p>
The old system also created a routine of drinking times, where the approach of either closing or opening concentrated the mind, whether it was the prospect of the shutters going down in the early afternoon, the early doors opening for that after-work pint, or the narrow two-hour window of Sunday lunchtime. If the pubs are open anyway, the incentive to have a drink at a specific time rather fades away, and sometimes leads to not bothering at all.
<p>
All-day opening, or the possibility of it, has now been with us for thirty years and has become accepted as a fact of life. Overall, it’s been greatly beneficial to pub users, and I’ve certainly taken advantage of it on a huge number of occasions. Most of the negative trends that have affected the pub trade would have happened anyway regardless of what had been done with hours. It’s certainly dramatically changed the landscape of how pubs actually function throughout the day, but it has to be accepted that change, even when generally beneficial, is rarely an entirely unmixed blessing.
<p>
Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-61754198382096575002018-09-01T06:28:00.000+01:002018-09-01T06:28:50.196+01:00September/October 2018<p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Pie in the Sky</b></span>
<p>
<i>Despite prophecies of doom, there’s still a bright future for wet-led pubs</i>
<p>
EVERY so often, someone comes up with a report predicting the death of the wet-led pub and claiming that food is the future. The latest is someone called Christel Lane who has published a book entitled “From Taverns to Gastropubs” which seeks to “contextualise the rise of the gastropub through an exploration of food, drink and society over the past 500 years.”
<p>
Of course, the importance of food to pubs has greatly increased over the past few decades, and in many it is now the major part of their business. However, it’s important not to get carried away. These analyses always seem to reflect a very partial experience of pubs confined to city centres and prosperous commuter belts. Go to any ordinary town and you will still find plenty of pubs, and not just in obscure locations, where the food trade is limited or non-existent, and the bulk of their business is done after 9pm. How pubs like that are meant to adapt to a brave new world of wall-to-wall dining is difficult to fathom.
<p>
In fact, in recent years, in less prosperous areas the tide has been flowing the other way. Many pubs that used to serve weekday lunches for workers from local businesses have now dropped the food and often stopped opening at lunchtimes completely. In many of the smaller satellite towns of Greater Manchester, it’s now difficult to find any pub food whatsoever apart from in Spoons.
<p>
And, of course, earlier in the summer, many pubs were packed with punters watching the World Cup, and certainly not sitting down to a meal. Yes, wet-led pubs may have declined, but they’re not going to disappear or anything like it. Indeed, there are now specialist operators like Amber Taverns who are concentrating on the sector rather than regarding it as a poor relation to the upmarket food houses.
<p>
<hr>
<p>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Hotting Up For Lager</b></span>
<p>
<i>Lager offers a huge potential market for craft brewers if they can get it right</i>
<p>
WHILE there’s no reason why you can’t serve a cool, refreshing pint of cask beer in hot weather, the summer heatwave tested some pubs’ cellarmanship skills, and so drinkers’ thoughts inevitably turned to lager. That raises the question of why craft brewers can’t get more of a share of lager sales, which are currently dominated by the large international brewers. Lager accounts for two-thirds of all beer sold in British pubs; cask only a sixth, so there is a huge untapped market out there that seems ripe for the picking.
<p>
Lager has long since taken over from bitter as the default beer in British pubs, the one chosen by people who aren’t really that interested in beer. What is important to its drinkers is something that is accessible, consistent and refreshing, not something with strong or unusual flavours or wild variability. While there are plenty of craft lagers around, it’s noticeable how, at present, they are more often chosen by those who usually favour cask or craft ales, not the drinkers of Carling and Stella.
<p>
The challenge for craft brewers is to progress beyond just being one of a row of rotating craft kegs on the back wall, where they will inevitably be overshadowed by beers with louder, showier flavours. They need to become permanent fixtures on bars, so they attract regular, loyal customers, to be consistent, and to be distinctive, but not to the extent that people find them offputting. It needs to be perceived as a cooler choice while not marking the drinker out as being a bit weird. There is already a model to follow in Camden Hells, which is now a very common sight in more upmarket pubs and bars in London. Yes, it is now owned by AB InBev, but the foundations of its success were laid when Camden was an independent company.
<p>
Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-1595150869587116932018-07-01T07:59:00.000+01:002018-07-01T07:59:48.839+01:00July/August 2018<p>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Great Craft Sell-Out</b></span>
<p>
<i>It’s a fact of life that most successful start-up breweries will end up being bought by bigger competitors</i>
<p>
THE PAST few years have seen a growing trend of successful craft breweries founded in the modern era being acquired by the major international brewers. We have seen such well-known brands as Goose Island, Lagunitas and Ballast Point being taken over in the US, plus Meantime and Camden in this country. As “Opening Times” went to press, there were reports that Heineken was planning to buy a stake in craft favourites Beavertown.
<p>
This has resulted in widespread disappointment, even a sense of betrayal, amongst craft beer fans. Selling out to “the man” is, for many, hard to forgive. On the other hand, if the owners are offered well over the book value for their company, they can’t really be blamed for seizing the chance of a comfortable retirement. It also contains an element of railing against fate. It may be regrettable, but it’s simply a fact of business life that the most likely outcome for a successful start-up is to be taken over by a larger competitor. Very few go on to spread their wings and fly independently in the way that BrewDog has done.
<p>
There’s a strange reluctance to recognize any merit in beers produced by the major breweries. In the 70s and 80s, CAMRA was very critical of the market dominance of the then “Big Six”, but it always accepted that they did produce some excellent real ales. Yet many craft fans are unwilling to touch anything in which the big boys have had a hand. But surely it’s entirely possible for a big company to produce a good beer, just as a small company can make a poor one. This comes across as an exercise in cutting off your nose to spite your face.
<p>
This wave of takeovers is significantly different from those that occurred in the British brewing industry in the 60s, 70s and 80s. Then, the prime objective was to get hold of smaller competitors’ tied estates and distribution networks. Promises may have been made about maintaining production at original sites, and keeping brands going, but they were rarely worth the paper they were written on.
<p>
The more recent ones, however, are about acquiring beer brands, not outlets, and so there is much more of an incentive to maintain the brand equity. Inevitably, in many cases, it will end up being eroded over the years by changes in recipe and production methods, but if they’re not careful the buyers end up destroying the value of their own purchase. It’s also hard to see the takeover of a start-up only a few years old as quite as much of a loss as that of a business that has been established for several generations and become part of its local community.
<p>
Every small business start-up has a life-cycle, and there will come a time when the owner wants to move on. Most micro-breweries eventually just shut up shop because the owner has become too old, or unwell, or has lost interest, or isn’t making a worthwhile profit. If you look at the micros from the first couple of decades of CAMRA, few are still in existence in any form. Companies like the remaining family brewers, who have been in existence for a hundred years or more, are very much the exception, not the rule.
<p>
Brewing remains an industry where, compared with many others, the barriers to entry are very low, as shown by the fact that over 1,500 new breweries have been set up in this country in the present century. The loss of some favourites may be regretted, but we are likely in the future to see the cycle of cool new start-up turning into corporate acquisition repeated over and over again.
<p>
Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-8335354951484842152018-05-01T07:15:00.000+01:002018-05-01T07:15:51.394+01:00May/June 2018<p><b><span style="font-size: large;">You Could Be Next</span></b>
<p>
<i>It is short-sighted in the extreme for anyone involved in the pub trade to welcome minimum alcohol pricing</i>
<p>
ON 1 MAY, Scotland became the first country in the world to introduce a system of Minimum Alcohol Pricing, with the rate initially set at 50p per unit (10 ml) of pure alcohol. The claimed justification for this is that it is a way of reducing problem drinking but, given that it is estimated that it will affect 70% of all alcohol sold in the off-trade, it is an extremely blunt instrument. It is in effect punishing ordinary people of limited means for the problems of a minority. A couple could easily be made £200 a year worse off without even exceeding the very low official consumption guidelines. Recent figures from the Office of National Statistics have shown that the UK is the fourth most expensive country in Europe for alcohol, so it’s not exactly cheap in the first place.
<p>
It also comes across as a fundamentally patronising and élitist measure, implying that it is fine for the well-heeled to continue swigging single malts, claret and craft ales, but that the irresponsible proles are not to be trusted with an abundance of Carling, Glen’s Vodka and Lambrini. As the famous Victorian liberal philosopher John Stuart Mill said, “Every increase of cost is a prohibition to those whose means do not come up to the augmented price.”
<p>
It’s questionable to what extent it will affect the consumption patterns of problem drinkers anyway, and some may end up sacrificing other areas of expenditure. As the old Russian saying goes “Daddy, now that vodka is more expensive, will you drink less? No, my son, you will eat less.” It is also likely to lead to a whole raft of undesirable consequences, such as cross-border smuggling, bootleg brewing and distilling, and a switch to illegal drugs. Not so long ago, a Sheffield student had her eyesight permanently damaged by drinking counterfeit vodka, while five Lithuanian men were killed in Boston, Lincolnshire, by an explosion at an illegal vodka distillery. Minimum pricing could lead to more such tragedies.
<p>
Some in the licensed trade have welcomed the move as a way of redressing the price imbalance with the off-trade. However, it isn’t going to give anyone a single extra penny to spend in pubs, and it is hard to see how increasing the price of a can of lager from 60p to 90p is going to encourage anyone to spend £3.50 or more for a pint in the pub. It could even damage the pub trade by constraining household budgets and leaving people with less discretionary spending money.
<p>
It’s also an unedifying spectacle to see one part of the alcohol industry lining up alongside the anti-drink lobby in a misguided attempt to gain some short-term advantage over another section. As Winston Churchill said “An appeaser is one who feeds a crocodile, hoping that it will eat him last.” Surely all producers, retailers and consumers of alcoholic drinks should be united in opposing the neo-Prohibitionists rather than squabbling amongst themselves.
<p>
At a level of 50p per unit, it’s unlikely to affect any drinks sold in the on-trade, although it could hit some of the stronger guest ales sold in Wetherspoon’s after applying the 50p CAMRA discount vouchers. But the pub trade should bear in mind that the study by the University of Sheffield used to support the policy actually concludes that the most “beneficial” results would come from setting differential minimum prices for on- and off-trades, with that for pubs and bars more than twice as high. Any advantage gained from minimum pricing could turn out to be short-lived, as the spotlight turns to on-trade pricing. So, if you’re remotely inclined to support this measure, don’t forget that you could be next on the list.
<p>Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-53435547413893998352018-03-02T13:11:00.000+00:002018-03-02T13:11:32.090+00:00March/April 2018<p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A Matter of Taste</b></span>
<p>
<i>Asking for tasters of beer is an affectation that is of little real value to the customer</i>
<p>
THIRTY years ago, when most pubs just offered a fixed beer range, the idea of asking for a taster would have been greeted with derision. More recently, though, as ever-changing guest beers have increasingly become the norm, it has become much more common. If you’re confronted with an array of ten beers you’ve never heard of before, it’s not unreasonable to ask for a sample before committing yourself to spending what now can often be approaching a couple of quid just for a half.
<p>
However, the range of flavours encompassed by the great majority of beers is fairly limited and predictable, so you’re unlikely to end up with something that really frightens the horses. If it doesn’t suit your palate, then just don’t buy it again. It’s also doubtful whether a small sample really gives a fair impression of what a beer is like. It’s said that you don’t fully appreciate a beer until you reach the bottom of the glass.
<p>
It’s also something likely to incur the wrath of both bar staff and other customers if you do it when they’re three deep at the bar. You can imagine the cartoon of “The man who asked for a taster in Wetherspoon’s at 10.30 on Friday night”. And it does seem to appeal to a certain type of person who specialises in making a nuisance of himself. With sufficient chutzpah, it can easily be exploited to get a significant quantity of beer for free.
<p>
It’s sometimes argued that offering tasters is a good way of encouraging people to try cask beer. But surely it just adds a layer of mystique to the subject, and the best way of promoting cask must be to keep it in good condition and offer beers that people actually want to drink and are likely to make repeat purchases. And nobody should be asking for tasters to check whether the beer’s in good condition. You have a reasonable expectation in any pub of not getting a duff pint and, if you do, the remedy is to take it back and ask for it to be changed.
<p>
Yes, if a beer has an unusual or challenging flavour, then offering tasters makes sense. But, for the great majority of beers, it’s just an affectation on a par with putting little jam jars of beer alongside the pumps to indicate the colour. And you never see people ask for tasters of lager, do you?
<p>
<hr>
<p>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Good Money After Bad</b></span>
<p>
<i>In spending vast sums on refurbishments, are pub operators chasing their own tail?</i>
<p>
THE ECONOMY’S growing steadily, unemployment is at a ten-year low, and pub operators seem to have plenty of money to invest. Scarcely a day goes by without reading of some pub or other reopening after a £250,000 refurbishment. One local pub reputedly had a cool £1 million spent on doing it up. But, looking at the industry as a whole, you have to wonder what benefit it produces. Is it actually generating new business overall, or is it just dragging the same customers around the stock of pubs in a giant game of musical chairs?
<p>
I would have thought all that even the tattiest pubs need is a deep clean, new wallpaper, upholstery and carpets, perhaps a bit of new loose furniture and, if appropriate, some new kitchen equipment. The vast majority of refurbishments, when they involve any structural alterations, end up leaving pubs worse, not better. Maybe customers are attracted by novelty, but that soon wears off. The best pubs, in my experience, are those that haven’t been knocked around for decades, and benefit from continuity and familiarity. But maybe, if you’ve already thoroughly wrecked a pub once, you’re fatally committed to wrecking it again every five years. It’s like a drug where you have to keep on increasing the dose to get the same effect.
<p>Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-4878160079235257032018-01-01T11:13:00.002+00:002018-01-01T11:13:31.714+00:00January/February 2018<p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Nobody Else Has Complained</b></span>
<p>
<i>Returning defective beer to the bar can all too easily become a minefield</i>
<p>
CASK BEER is a natural, living product and, as such, with the best will in the world, it’s inevitable that occasionally you’ll be served with a sub-standard pint. What matters is not that it’s happened in the first place, but that the pub deals with the issue swiftly, politely and without quibble. Unfortunately, it doesn’t always work out that way, and an ill-mannered and unhelpful response can easily put a dampener on an enjoyable evening. Indeed, the whole business of returning beer to the bar can be something of a minefield.
<p>
The first thing is to be specific as to exactly what it is you’re complaining about. If the beer is obviously cloudy or vinegary, then you should have a cast-iron case, although opinions will vary on what degree of haziness is acceptable. However, there are other faults that are not so clear-cut, for example being served far too warm, lacking in condition, having a noticeable off-flavour, or simply being generally tired and end-of-barrel-ish. If you’re in a pub where you’re a regular and are known to the licensee and bar staff, such a complaint might be taken seriously, but in a strange pub you could well feel that you are chancing your arm.
<p>
It’s also important to be clear about your objective when making a complaint. Obviously the best solution is to be given an acceptable replacement, either the same beer which has been pulled through, or a new cask tapped, or a suitable alternative. Failing that, the aim should be to be given a refund, which you may well prefer if it’s the only cask beer on sale and you don’t fancy a Carling as a replacement. Or, in some cases, just venting your spleen will leave you with a sense of moral satisfaction.
<p>
The last two outcomes, though, imply that you’ll be bringing your visit to an end. If you’re in the middle of a pub crawl, or there’s an alternative pub nearby, that might be entirely acceptable. But in other situations, for example having a meal or social evening with a group, you might not want to do that, and thus be reluctant to create a fuss. You’ll just quietly leave the sub-standard pint, and put up with Guinness or Diet Coke for the rest of the proceedings. And, even if you gain a moral victory, creating a confrontational situation may end up leaving a sour taste in the mouth and spoiling your evening.
<p>
In general, attitudes to changing sub-standard beer have improved over the years. The days of “everyone else is drinking it” or “real ale’s meant to look like soup/taste like vinegar” are largely a thing of the past. One of the worst responses I recall was “but you’ve drunk some of it!” Well, if I hadn’t drunk any, how would I know it was foul? But that kind of quibbling hasn’t entirely disappeared. Given the amount of goodwill at risk, compared with the gross profit on a pint, it’s hard to see why pubs continue to argue the toss about changing beer if customers present a reasonable case.
<p>
Some will point out that, if you stick to mass-market lagers and smooth beers, you won’t have any of this problem with variability. However, the point about cask beer is that, when it’s good, it reaches heights that keg never can, and the occasional duff pint is a price worth paying for that. If you stick to pubs in the Good Beer Guide, or ones with a decent reputation locally, you’re unlikely to have much problem. And keg beers, especially small-batch “craft” ones, are by no means immune from faults either.
<p>
Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-24172738546952365612017-11-01T06:14:00.000+00:002017-11-01T06:14:13.594+00:00November/December 2017<P><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Baby You Can Drive My Car</b></span>
<P>
<i>Driverless cars could give a major shot in the arm to the pub trade
</i>
<P>
RECENTLY, there has been a growing amount of interest in the development of driverless cars. The wider subject is really beyond the remit of this column, although I’m sure there are many applications where they will prove very useful. However, as with many other disruptive technologies, both government and independent commentators still seem unsure as to how they will eventually come to be used.
<P>
Looking at the subject from a more parochial perspective, one area where they could make a massive difference is in getting you home from the pub. In rural areas, with negligible public transport and distances beyond an economic taxi ride, pubgoing opportunities are currently very constrained. And, even in towns and cities, while there will be <b><i>some</i></b> pubs that can be reached easily on foot or by public transport, there are plenty more that can’t be. Just imagine programming your automatic chariot for an evening’s crawl round some otherwise hard-to-reach pubs!
<P>
Some have suggested that there will always need to be a sober, licensed driver on hand in case of emergencies, but that rather defeats the whole purpose, and how quickly could someone be expected to react anyway if they were busy posting on Facebook? Indeed, one of the obvious applications that has been suggested is eliminating human drivers from taxis. And surely one of the major benefits of driverless cars would be to enhance mobility for people such as the very elderly or those with chronic illnesses who are currently unable to drive themselves. However, no doubt the killjoys will be working hard on ways to prevent driverless cars being used in this way, saying “that’s not what they were intended for”.
<P>
<HR>
<P>
<span style="font-size: large;">
<b>Posing a Problem</b></span>
<P>
<i>So-called “posing tables” are a divisive and uncomfortable abomination in pubs</i>
<P>
A LOCAL pub has recently received a “craft” makeoever, which involved replacing about half the seating with high-level “posing tables”. This is a plague that is afflicting more and more pubs nowadays. I suppose the thinking is that they appear modern and trendy, conjuring up visions of bright young things disporting their long, skinny-jean clad legs in a fashionable, cutting-edge bar. But, more often than not, you end up with plump middle-aged folk perched incongruously on high stools.
<P>
They spoil the look of the interior of a pub and create an artificial division between drinkers by putting them on two levels. You might say that some people prefer them and should be given the choice, but would anyone walk out of a pub if there were none, and did anyone ever suggest them when asked what they would like to see in a pub refurbishment? It also seems that they appeal to people with an exaggerated sense of their own importance who want to be the centre of attention. The formal name for them is “poseur tables”, which rather sums up their attraction.
<P>
A couple of decades ago, there was a fad for putting raised seating areas in pubs to break up large areas of flat floor. However, the realisation eventually dawned that these were very unfriendly to the disabled, by effectively closing off a substantial chunk of the pub to them. You certainly don’t see them in new schemes, and I can think of a few pubs that have had them removed during refurbishments.
<P>
Much the same is true of posing tables, which will place people in wheelchairs at a lower level than their friends, and also pose a challenge for older customers with creaky joints. They’re an ugly abomination that should have no place in pubs, and the sooner they’re all consigned to the skip the better.
<P>Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-59241015190439390782017-09-01T07:39:00.000+01:002017-09-01T07:39:04.465+01:00September/October 2017<p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Slippery Slope</b></span>
<p>
<i>The anti-tobacco campaign is increasingly being used as a template for action against alcohol</i>
<p>
LAST JULY saw the tenth anniversary of the introduction of the blanket smoking ban in England. At the time, those of us who argued that the same kind of restrictions would increasingly be applied to alcohol and other categories of food and drink were pooh-poohed for scaremongering. Tobacco, they said, was clearly a special case. However, the claim of a slippery slope has proved to be more correct with each passing year, and it seems that producers of craft drinks have at last woken up to the threat.
<p>
Earlier this year, the “Observer” reported how Jared Brown, of craft gin distiller Sipsmith, had suddenly cottoned on to the threat to his business from graphic health warnings and plain packaging.
<blockquote><i>“Are they considering similar labels for bacon? Fish and chips? Crisps?” he asked. “It’s an absurdity. It will crush the craft side of the industry. It will shift the business back to the industrial producers, who will be very happy to move people back to mass-produced drinks. If something like this comes through we won’t be able to weather it.”
<p>
“It wouldn’t be possible unless cigarettes hadn’t happened first,” said Christopher Snowdon of the Institute of Economic Affairs thinktank. “The debates around the tobacco advertising ban 15 years ago were that this was not a precedent, it will never happen with anything else, and yet last week the there were health campaigners saying the same thing should happen with alcohol.”</i>
</blockquote>
Of course, what applies to craft gin will equally apply to craft beer, and any other area of the food and drink market dependent on innovation and disrupting existing business models. It’s often argued that restrictions on advertising and promotion would curb big brands, but in fact the opposite is true. They always serve to benefit established players at the expense of new entrants, as the market is in effect ossified, and customers are forced to fall back on folk memory and what they ordered before.
<p>
It would now be absolutely impossible to introduce a new legitimate cigarette brand and, if the current tobacco advertising rules and display ban applied to alcohol, there would be no craft beers and no microbreweries, apart perhaps from pubs that brewed their own beer. And would even writing magazine articles about them be prohibited as a form of indirect advertising?
<p>
<hr>
<P>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>A More Selective Appeal</b></span>
<p>
<i>Some brewers’ response to post-ban decline comes across as utterly delusional</i>
<p>
IN THE ten years since the smoking ban, the amount of beer sold in pubs and clubs has fallen by well over a third. While the ban isn’t the sole cause, nobody with any knowledge of the industry can deny that it has been a major factor. The effect has been felt particularly sharply amongst the smaller, wet-led local pubs.
<p>
So it is quite astounding how so many brewers and pub operators have done their best to put a brave face on what, by any standards, has been a disaster for their industry. Some have claimed that it has increased the appeal of pubs to women, despite the fact that more women smoke than men. And one brewery director, who had presided over selling off a quarter of his company’s pubs, said that “the pub trade has evolved to become stronger and more inclusive”.
<p>
Obviously business owners have to live in the real world rather than just moaning that life isn’t fair. But this comes across as very much like the manager of the spoof rock band Spinal Tap who, when asked why they were now playing in small theatres rather than arenas, replied that “their appeal has become more selective”. <p>
Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-32814988173711144802017-06-01T07:12:00.000+01:002017-06-01T07:12:17.830+01:00June 2017<p><b><span style="font-size: large;">Back on the Escalator</span></b>
<p><i>The Chancellor has sneaked in a return to the alcohol duty escalator
</i>
<p>IN HIS 2011 Budget, George Osborne mentioned in passing that “there would be no changes to previously announced alcohol duties”, which many media outlets wrongly reported as meaning that they would be frozen, whereas in fact the dreaded duty escalator remained in operation.
<p>
In March this year, Philip Hammond pulled the same stunt, which led to widespread confusion as to what the duty implications actually were. One well-known brewer, who will remain nameless, even said on Twitter that they didn’t think there had been any changes. The situation was so bad that the British Beer and Pub Association felt compelled to issue a statement clarifying the position.
<p>
Even the official government announcement was distinctly disingenuous, saying “This measure increases the duty rates on alcohol manufactured in, or imported into, the UK by reference to the retail prices index (RPI).” Anyone reading this would assume that duties had been increased in line with RPI, but in fact the term “by reference to” meant that the dreaded duty escalator had returned, with rates going up by RPI plus 2%. The main rate of beer duty rose by 3.86%, meaning that a pint of 4% beer now incurs duty plus VAT on duty of 52p, a rise of 2p over the previous level.
<p>
It’s easy to dismiss such rises as trivial and say people will take them in their stride. But every price increase is a step too far for someone who is already at the limits of their budget. And, over time, successive above-inflation increases in duty will make alcoholic drinks significantly more expensive in real terms and reduce the demand. Although obviously not the sole factor, it is noticeable how the rate of decline in the pub trade in the three years since the escalator was shelved in 2014 has been considerably less than in the preceding years.
<p>
It would have been understandable, if regrettable, if the government had returned to raising duties each year in line with inflation. But it has been made clear that the duty escalator was never scrapped, merely suspended, and is now back with a vengeance.
<p>
Sadly, all the hard work that CAMRA and drinks trade bodies devoted to campaigning against it and pointing out its negative effect on one of Britain’s biggest business sectors has been thrown back in their faces. The process is going to have to be restarted, and this time it must be made clear that the objective is to drive a stake through the escalator’s heart, not just to put it into suspended animation.
<p>
<hr>
<p><b><span style="font-size: large;">Brewer before Taxman?</span></b>
<p><i>Higher beer prices harm pubs, regardless of whether the brewer or the Exchequer benefit
</i>
<p>EARLIER this year, I wrote about how many small brewers were finding it a struggle to make a decent living. One answer to this has been to suggest that we’re not really paying enough over the bar for our beer. However, given that in many pubs the typical pint is now well north of £3, most people would hardly think beer was cheap, and over the years pub prices have increased by more than the general rate of inflation. If there’s a problem, it’s how the cake is distributed, not that it’s too small overall.
<p>
Given the amount of effort that has been expended in campaigning against the duty escalator, it is surely shooting yourself in the foot to want to negate all the benefits by putting the price back up again. It’s basic common sense that cheaper beer makes for healthier pubs and, regardless of where the extra money goes, higher prices are going to deter some customers, especially those who are already financially stretched.<p>Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-76589111995777189222017-05-01T11:15:00.000+01:002017-05-01T11:15:01.886+01:00May 2017<p><b><span style="font-size: large;">No Magic Bullet</span></b>
<p>
<i>Designating a pub as an Asset of Community Value is no guarantee of its survival</i>
<p>
UNDER the Localism Act of 2011, the government made provision for land or buildings to be designated as Assets of Community Value, meaning that, if there was a proposal to sell them, they would enjoy a six-month waiting period to allow a local community to either make a bid itself or find an alternative buyer. Not surprisingly, this has since been extended to many pubs, including a number in this area.
<p>
However, it seems to be viewed by some as a magic bullet to save threatened pubs, whereas in reality all it can do is to give them a stay of execution. Even if a local community is able to make a bid, there is no requirement for the seller to accept it. And, while there have been a number of cases of successful community bids being made for smaller locals, it’s unrealistic to expect this to happen for bigger and more expensive pubs in rural locations or city centres.
<p>
Locally, we have recently lost two large Hydes’ estate pubs, the High Grove in Gatley and the Ryecroft Arms in Cheadle Hulme, both of which have been sold for residential development. An ACV listing had been obtained for the High Grove, but not the Ryecroft, but at the end of the day this did not affect its fate. It’s doubtful whether a community group could have raised the £500,000 asking price, let alone run it profitably where Hydes had failed. And the question must be asked why, if it was so valued by the local community, they hadn’t previously used it more.
<p>
To some extent, ACV status is being used as a substitute for protecting pubs under the planning system. Under current planning law, there is what might be regarded as a loophole or anomaly whereby a pub can be converted to retail or office use without needing planning permission, although it is needed for residential conversion. There’s a good case for changing this, although surely a time limit would be needed, as it would deter people from converting shops to bars if they needed planning permission to convert them back again a couple of years later if things didn’t work out.
<p>
However, while this would ensure that any conversions from pub use were done in the open, in practice it wouldn’t really save more than a handful of pubs. All of those in this area that have been converted to supermarkets had been closed for some years previously. At the end of the day, you can’t force people to run businesses if they don’t want to, and it could all too easily lead to a staring match between pub owners and councils, with pubs left derelict for an extended period of time. And many pubs sit on a substantial patch of land which is potentially very valuable for redevelopment. Even if somehow you were able to require a pub to be sold for its value as a going concern, if the new owners couldn’t make a go of it either, who would stand to benefit from the development value at the end of the day?
<p>
Some campaigners against pub closures seem blind to the fact that the demand for pubs has dramatically declined, making it inevitable that many will become unviable. Since 1997, the total amount of beer sold in pubs has more than halved. But it is now easier to get a licence for existing premises than it ever has been, and this has resulted in a growing wave of openings of new bars and micropubs, including some in suburban shopping parades. Perhaps something smaller and more intimate would be a better option for local communities than the archetypal “beached whale” estate pub.
<p>Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-28831140453704840102017-04-01T07:46:00.000+01:002017-04-01T07:46:24.346+01:00April 2017<p><b><span style="font-size: large;">Fear of the Dark</span></b>
<p>
<i>There’s no point in pubs stocking dark beers if customers don’t want to drink them</i>
<p>
A FREQUENTLY heard complaint is that pubs should make more effort to stock darker beers. Surely, if a pub has eight or more handpumps, they could allocate one or two of them to dark beers to provide more stylistic variety. But, on the other hand, there is no point in stocking beers that don’t sell and, while you can lead a dark horse to beer, you can’t make him drink it.
<p>
One licensee of a long-standing “Good Beer Guide” entry has made the point that, while he’s made plenty of effort to put darker beers on the bar, his customers simply don’t seem to want to drink them. He’s had dark beers hanging around on the pumps for five days, while some pale ones sell out within five hours, so it’s not surprising that he tends to avoid them. I’ve spoken to several licensees of family brewer pubs who have told me that they tend to pass on any dark beers in the brewery’s seasonal range, as they simply don’t sell. And it’s always very noticeable at the end of Stockport Beer Festival that most of the beers left over are dark ones.
<p>
There is a widely-held belief that dark beers tend to be on the stronger side, which isn’t by any means always the case, but does deter people from drinking them. And all dark beers are not the same – there is a clear division between roasty, strong-flavoured stouts and porters, and sweeter, more mellow milds and old ales. Some drinkers try to avoid those roasty notes, while others will run a mile at the thought of anything with a chestnut flavour, let alone reminiscent of Christmas pudding.
<p>
I have to say I tend to prefer the more mellow side, and I have fond memories of drinking the distinctive old ales that used to be produced by breweries in the South-East such as Brakspear, Gales and King & Barnes. These typically had a strength of around 4.3 or 4.4%, so it was easy to drink a pint or two, but they still had a rich flavour and a touch of winter warmth about them. Sadly there doesn’t seem to be much brewed in that kind of category nowadays.
<p>
Yes, it would be good to see more dark beers on the bar. But all dark beers are not the same, and it has to be recognised that their absence is not due to a lack of imagination of the part of licensees, but to customer preference.
<p>
<hr>
<p>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Pale Shadow</span></b>
<p>
<i>It is disrespectful of our brewing heritage to rebrand a classic Pale Ale as amber</i>
<p>
LAST AUTUMN, Marston’s carried out a redesign of their beer brands in an attempt to make them look fresher and more contemporary, although many felt they were trying a bit too hard to appear trendy. One aspect of this was reclassifying their flagship Pedigree as an “amber ale” rather than a “pale ale”. Historically, British beers were divided between “brown ales” and “pale ales”, with the latter being broadly of the mid-brown colour you would expect from “bitter”. Nowadays, when many beers have been introduced that are markedly paler than this, it may seem sensible to draw a distinction between these and the ones of a more traditional colour.
<p>
But Pedigree is a classic example of a great British brewing style, namely Burton Pale Ale, and while calling it “amber” may make some sense to a marketing man, it comes across as something of a betrayal of Marston’s proud heritage.<p>Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-70738422030831992342017-03-01T08:14:00.000+00:002017-03-01T08:14:41.365+00:00March 2017<p><b><span style="font-size: large;">Collision Course</span></b>
<p>
<i>The seemingly unstoppable rise in brewery numbers can’t go on for ever</i>
<p>
EVERY MONTH, “Opening Times” seems to report new breweries being set up, at the same time as established pubs are closing down. If you extrapolate this into the future, within a decade or two we’re going to end up with more breweries than pubs. Clearly this is unsustainable, and eventually the two trends are bound to collide.
<p>
It certainly seems to be true at present that there are too many small brewers chasing not enough business. Plenty of keen people have gone into the business without giving too much thought to where they’re going to find customers. The result is a lot of cut-throat competition, with some brewers complaining that others are selling beer for less than it costs them to make it, and several reports of beer being sold “off the books” without duty being charged. This can’t be healthy in the long term, and inevitably at some point a shake-out will happen.
<p>
One obvious factor is that, for most micro-brewers, it is to some extent a labour of love. They have taken up commercial brewing because they’re interested in beer and brewing, not just as a money-making venture. Most have either previously been enthusiastic home-brewers, or have worked for another brewery before venturing out on their own. This doesn’t mean that they don’t take the business side seriously, but inevitably, across the whole population of brewers, there is a slightly less hard-headed attitude. If your prime objective in starting a small business is to maximise your profits, you probably won’t take up brewing, and it can’t be said that people run carpet-cleaning franchises because they’re fascinated by carpets.
<p>
Added to this, a significant proportion of micro-brewers don’t rely on their business to provide a proper full-time income, either because they are retired, have another job, a rich parent, or a working partner. This isn’t a bad thing in itself, and may mean they can be more experimental and take more risks, but it does mean they can afford to take a more relaxed attitude to pricing, which may irk those who do entirely depend on brewing for their income.
<p>
The prevailing culture of ever-rotating guest beers also makes it more difficult for brewers to establish any kind of brand premium. The varying beers are just seen as a homogenous, dispensable product. Even if your beer isn’t up to much, the pub probably won’t be having it on again, so it will be quickly forgotten. All cask beer certainly isn’t of broadly uniform quality, but when customers are confronted with an array of beers, and possibly breweries, that they have never heard of before, it’s well-nigh impossible for them to make an informed judgment.
<p>
Given that the underlying market conditions are unlikely to change significantly, the objective for brewers must be to develop their reputation, so that pubs are going to make repeat orders, and that customers perceive their beers – whether individual brands or the overall output of the brewery – as something they actively want to drink. There’s no magic bullet for achieving this, but has to be the aim. Consistency, and having a product that stands out, not necessarily by being extremely distinctive, but by being of obvious quality, are vital factors.
<p>
There are plenty of examples of successful breweries who have done this, a good example being Hawkshead, where many drinkers, on seeing a Hawkshead beer on the bar, will immediately go for it in preference to others. And brewers of a more mainstream bent such as Otter have prospered through providing a consistent, well-branded product that is instantly recognisable, and rarely disappoints the drinker.
<p>Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-33418762364725681382017-02-01T07:54:00.000+00:002017-02-01T07:54:38.035+00:00February 2017<p><b><span style="font-size: large;">A Little Bit of Company</span></b>
<p>
<i>The role of pubs in alleviating loneliness and depression is often undervalued</i>
<p>
BEFORE Christmas last year, CAMRA Chairman Colin Valentine highlighted the important role of pubs in combating social isolation, which can often work in surprisingly small and subtle ways. Go into a town-centre Wetherspoons in the late morning, and you’ll probably see a number of tables occupied by middle-aged or elderly men, sitting on their own, drinking a pint, reading the newspaper, with a bit of shopping in a plastic carrier bag. This may seem like a sad indictment of loneliness in our society but, looking at it the other way, what would they be doing if they weren’t there? Probably sitting at home alone with a can watching daytime TV.
<p>
Even at a very low level, pubs can contribute to providing a social outlet and alleviating loneliness. The simple act of getting out of the house and having a change of scenery can improve your mood. One beer blogger, who suffers from chronic depression, said:
<blockquote><i>“If you have recurrent mental health problems, being stuck in the middle of the same walls, seeing the same things and listening to the same sounds over and over and over again, well, it does your head in, basically. If you stay in your house too long, it's well documented that mood gradually lowers and you become isolated and less able to function in the world when it confronts you.”</i></blockquote>
And another added:
<blockquote><i>“I live alone and if I don't leave the house for two consecutive days, I feel hemmed in. I was declared surplus from my last job and was retired early, so I don't even have the social interaction of the workplace during weekdays. Isolation isn't good for anyone.
<p>
“Pubs are the only institutions that I can think of where you can walk in off the street, buy a drink and be entitled to sit there as long as you like, with the option of talking to strangers or not, as you prefer. Try talking to strangers in a café or restaurant and see what reaction you get. Actually, just try lingering too long in a café over one coffee without speaking to anyone and you may get suspicious looks, perhaps even be told to move on. This doesn't usually happen in a pub.”</i></blockquote>
And one guy in his twenties, who is autistic and visually impaired, said of a local micropub:
<blockquote><i>“I've started going in there when it's quiet - I really can't handle busy, noisy pubs, but I go in and have a couple of pints and maybe talk to whoever's on the bar. I find that, I really can't make conversation easily - if I don't know you, I'm lost and I feel overloaded and a bit scared. So I'll talk shop, basically, about the beer they have on and what's being going on in the news. It gets me out of the house and away from those that I see every day for a little while.”</i></blockquote>
You can see this in Samuel Smith’s Boar’s Head in Stockport, where from opening time each morning there will be a fair number of customers, mostly older men who are retired or on disability, who clearly see it as a kind of social club and engage in various kinds of inconsequential banter. Looking at the wider picture, though, slow-spending, elderly customers are not something that greedy pub-owners want to encourage, hence the trends for wall-to-wall dining and replacing comfortable benches with posing tables that are a challenge for creaky joints.
<p>
But the importance of pubs in giving people some kind of social outlet, however limited, cannot be understated. Yes, old blokes sitting on their own in the pub may seem sad. But it’s helping to alleviate a greater sadness.
<p>Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-11790675898608792552017-01-01T07:18:00.000+00:002017-01-01T07:18:56.520+00:00January 2017<P><b><span style="font-size: large;">Can This Be For Real?</span></b>
<P>
<i>“Real ale in a can” is a flawed concept that undermines bottle-conditioning</i>
<P>
EYEBROWS were raised last year at the news that CAMRA had given accreditation as “real ale” to can-conditioned beers from Moor Brewery in Bristol. While this may on the face of it sound surprising, given that CAMRA is happy to recognise bottle-conditioned beers as “real ale”, it is entirely consistent to do the same for beer that still contains live yeast, but just happens to be in a different kind of container.
<P>
Having expressed some scepticism about the concept, I was – to their credit – sent a sample of six cans to try by Moor Brewery. Now, they all came across as well-made beers, and one, the rye-infused Smokey Horyzon, particularly tickled my tastebuds. The amount of yeast and carbonation suggested that they could realistically have conditioned in the can. Having allowed them to settle for a couple of weeks, I was able to pour most of them reasonably clear. But I have to say I’m not remotely convinced by the concept.
<P>
Over the years, I’ve enjoyed many excellent bottle-conditioned beers. But I’ve always been able to check that the yeast has settled to the bottom, and then pour it carefully to ensure I end up with a clear drink. However, with a can, you simply can’t do that, so you have to trust to time as to whether the yeast has settled, and depend on very precise timing to minimise the amount that ends up in the glass. The whole process is turned into a lottery. For this reason, regardless of the inherent merits of the beer, I’d say cans are not an appropriate medium for container-conditioned packaged beers.
<P>
Personally, I prefer the taste of beer, not yeast, and there is far too much anecdotal evidence of murky beer playing havoc with the digestive tract for such concerns to be dismissed out of hand. The whole concept of "real ale in a can" has not been thought through properly, and I find it disappointing that CAMRA has given it its seal of approval.
<P>
<HR>
<P>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Delayed Gratification</span></b>
<P>
<i>What may now seem extreme proposals could all too soon become reality</i>
<P>
SCOTLAND seems to be doing its best to be a world leader in neo-Prohibitionism, and the latest idea to rear its ugly head is one from “public health experts” to ban the sale of alcohol in the off-trade until 5pm. This is objectionable on so many levels that I won’t even attempt to list them. It represents a collective punishment meted out on the overwhelming majority of responsible drinkers in an attempt to address the problems of the irresponsible few.
<P>
One obvious issue is that it would be likely to lead to a kind of quasi black market of people buying drink on others’ behalf. A simple request to pick up of bottle of whisky while you’re out could easily lead on to someone carrying a small stock to supply people who find it inconvenient to buy it themselves. And I can’t see the Scotch whisky industry – the country’s leading export earner – being remotely happy about being prevented from selling bottles to coach parties on distillery tours.
<P>
In Sweden, which operates a similar hard-line attitude to alcohol sales, the state-run Systembolaget stores tend to close their doors just as the Scottish offies would be opening. You could just as well argue that earlier closing, rather than later opening, would achieve the same result, or lack of.
<P>
Of course the chances of this happening in the near future, even in Scotland, are zero. But, by laying it on the table, an “Overton Window” has been opened up in which such draconian proposals are brought within the scope of serious debate. And how long will it be before someone suggests banning pubs and bars from selling alcohol before 5pm too?
<P>Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-60078000599030472772016-12-01T07:41:00.000+00:002016-12-01T07:44:14.070+00:00December 2016<P><b><span style="font-size: large;">A Place Where No-One Knows Your Name</span></b>
<P>
<i>Pubs need to respect customers’ desire for privacy, if that’s what they want</i>
<P>
PUBS ARE typically viewed as places of raucous ribaldry, or at least of cheerful conviviality. However, there is another side to them, as wooden wombs, a third space where people – couples and groups as well as individuals – can seek temporary refuge from the stresses of home, work or just life in general.
<P>
A pub is, of course, a “public house”, a hybrid of the two where anyone can walk in off the street and spend some time there provided they put a bit of money across the bar. If you behave yourself, nobody will question your purpose or your right to be there. It’s generally accepted that it’s up to you whether you engage with other customers or not, and the only people who break that principle are those like Archie the pub bore from the “Fast Show” with his catchphrase “Hardest game in the world”. This applies even in pretty small and cosy pubs.
<P>
However, that kind of privacy is difficult to achieve in the new generation of micropubs, where everyone is put together into a small common space and intimacy is inescapable. Many customers will welcome that atmosphere of companionship, but others may feel it’s something they prefer to avoid. And there’s sometimes the feeling of intruding into a private clique.
<P>
Obviously strangers do talk to each other in pubs, and often it’s something you welcome. But, if customers don’t want to get involved, you leave them alone. There’s also an art to making conversation without appearing unduly inquisitive or prying. “What are you doing here today?” or “Where have you come from?” are questions that I see as my own business unless I choose to open up about them. And, of course, Wetherspoons, although often criticised for being impersonal, are amongst the best places for maintaining anonymity.
<P>
<HR>
<P>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Closed for You</b>
</span>
<P>
<i>Increasingly limited and bizarre opening hours can’t do the pub trade any good</i>
<P>
OVER THE past year, I’ve greatly enjoyed reading the adventures of bloggers <a href="https://retiredmartin.com/">Martin Taylor</a> and <a href="http://brapa-4500.blogspot.co.uk/">Simon Everitt</a>, who are both, in their different ways, aiming to visit every pub in the <i>Good Beer Guide</i>. One of the problems they frequently encounter is pubs opening very limited and strange hours, which can make it difficult to plan a visit.
<P>
It’s common now to find pubs that don’t open at lunchtime from Monday to Friday, although a fair number do open at 3 or 4 pm, when in the past pubs would have been shutting. But many go further than this, with plenty no longer bothering to open at lunchtimes at all, even at weekends. It’s very common in rural areas to find pretty much all the pubs outside town centres closed on Mondays. One well-known Cheshire dining pub is closed on both Mondays and Tuesdays, and doesn’t open until 5 pm on any other day. And it gets even weirder, with one Hertfordshire pub only open on Mondays between 3 and 6 in the afternoon, the traditional period of closure.
<P>
If you are going to open odd or restricted hours, surely it makes sense to tell potential customers exactly when those hours are, both outside the door and on your own website if you have one. You should also try to make sure that the correct hours are display on third-party sites such as CAMRA’s <a href="https://whatpub.com/">WhatPub?</a> Even one case of someone turning up when they thought you were open, only to find the door firmly shut, can generate a lot of negative word-of-mouth. And, if you do open strange hours, it rather suggests you’re not very interested in attracting casual customers in the first place.
<P>Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-38002909886304583142016-11-01T11:27:00.000+00:002016-11-01T11:40:49.641+00:00November 2016<p><b><span style="font-size: large;">Which Side Are You On?</span></b>
<p>
<i>Many people who claim to stand up for pubs and beer are more puritan than libertarian</i>
<p>
THE GREAT American science fiction author Robert A. Heinlein once observed that “The human race divides politically into those who want people to be controlled and those who have no such desire.” Sadly, in the past couple of decades, the first tendency very much seems to have got the upper hand, especially in the area of seeking to influence what people put in their bodies, in terms of tobacco, alcohol and food. The concept of self-ownership which was fundamental to the values of the Enlightenment has been forced to take a back seat.
<p>
It’s difficult to fathom the motivation for all of this. The idea that we need a healthy, efficient population to fulfil some kind of national destiny has disturbingly totalitarian overtones. And the argument that unhealthy lifestyles place a greater burden on state-funded health services does not stand up to analysis. While it is possible to point to individual horror stories, on average it is the clean-living people who survive into extreme old age who end up costing more. It’s hard to avoid the conclusion that ultimately it stems from a simple desire to tell others how to run their lives and impose your values on them.
<p>
The controlling tendency have also been able to forge an unholy alliance with those promoting quality in food and drink. The root of the two ideas is different, but it is all too easy for advocacy of good food to slip into support for measures to deter people eating what you perceive as poor food. Thus we have supporters of “good food” hanging on Jamie Oliver’s every word, tut-tutting at the idea that McDonalds and Burger King might be considered valuable additions to the High Street, and seeking to lock children in school at lunchtime to stop them going to the chippy. It also has to be said that there is a strong element of patronising snobbery in all of this, the belief that the thick plebs can’t be trusted to look after themselves and therefore have to be told what to do by their betters.
<p>
Much the same happens in the field of drink, where those who celebrate fine wines, malt whiskies and craft ales find it all too easy to look down their noses at the <i>hoi polloi</i> lugging slabs of Carling home from ASDA. We are discerning connoisseurs, they are irresponsible binge-drinkers. And the health argument, which may have some limited validity in the area of food, does not apply here – a pint of Carling will be no worse for you than the equivalent amount of alcohol in a Barrel Aged Imperial Triple IPA.
<p>
This may help explain why many beer enthusiasts seem strangely reluctant to acknowledge the threat from the anti-drink lobby, and indeed in some cases may imagine that some kind of accommodation can be made with them to promote quality and responsibility. Despite more than one Conference motion, you will still see very little of this kind in CAMRA publications. Many activists, in their hearts, identify more with those pointing out the evils of drink – so long as it’s not real ale – than with Diageo and Molson Coors.
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Of course, at the end of the day, this is a dangerous delusion. When push comes to shove, the anti-drink lobby have no interest in separating out the good and bad drinkers. It’s all just booze to them. And it has to be recognised that, in recent years, the increasing denormalisation of moderate drinking and the negative image attached to alcohol have been amongst the main factors contributing to the decline of the pub trade. It’s no good standing up for pubs if at the same time you’re happy to stigmatise most of their customers.
<p>Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542521298906723397.post-55989577423237666042016-10-01T00:02:00.000+01:002016-10-27T14:17:29.731+01:00October 2016<p><b><span style="font-size: large;">Cash is King</span></b>
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<i>The pub trade remains one of the prime strongholds of the cash economy</i>
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THE DEATH of cash has often been foretold, but it still seems a long way off happening. This is something that is also true of print publications, such as the one you are reading now. The digital age may encroach on the territory of its analogue predecessors, but in most spheres it seems incapable of dealing the final blow.
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We are constantly being urged to use credit and debit cards and abandon cash. This is especially true since the introduction of contactless cards, which undoubtedly make a big difference in ease of use, and have led to a surge in the number of card transactions.
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However, cash is still proving very resilient, and one of its prime strongholds remains the pub trade. Yes, people may be flashing cards more to pay for meals and rounds of drinks in trendy bars and gastropubs, but in your average local you would still be looked on askance if you proffered a card to pay for a couple of pints, even if they offered the facility, which most don’t.
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Using a contactless card rather than cash also exposes you to the risk of unwise spending on a night out where your judgment might be impaired by a few pints. If you want to control your spending, stick to cash. If you depend entirely on cards, you’re also left at the mercy of bank computers, which can all too easily fail, as several recent incidents have shown. Most of the extensive grey and black economy runs on cash, which isn’t going to disappear overnight. The same is true of most ordinary local pubs, and CAMRA beer festivals. Cash isn’t going anywhere any day soon.
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Ring My Bell</span></b>
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<i>If there are no staff at the bar, customers need to be able to summon them</i>
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THE ONGOING decline of the pub trade inevitably leads to staffing reductions, so very often one person is left to look after a serving area which can’t all be seen from one vantage point. And, even if there is just a single bar counter, there are reasons such as toilet breaks and popping into the kitchen that mean the sole server is absent.
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In these situations, it’s all too easy for staff to be distracted and fail to check regularly whether there are any customers waiting. I can think of several occasions in well-regarded local pubs, including Good Beer Guide entries, where I’ve walked in, only to find nobody behind the bar, and no means of summoning them. Less patient people might well have walked out and gone elsewhere, and I have done that myself on one or two occasions in the past. It shouldn’t be too difficult, though, even if staff are hard-pressed, to say “I’ll be with you in a minute”, which will swiftly defuse a lot of frustration.
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It’s tempting to argue that it makes sense to bring back the service bell, a staple of the old two-bar pubs, but rarely seen nowadays. At least that way you might stand a chance of actually getting served. However, in British culture that often comes across as a touch aggressive and peremptory, like sounding a car horn.
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To get over this problem, a correspondent suggested it would be a good idea to attach a squeaky rubber duck to the bar. That would certainly defuse any confrontational element, but inevitably might be abused by some mischievous customers.
<p>Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02558747878308766840noreply@blogger.com2