Today, every pub that I’ve ever been to in the UK is closed. The pub that I bought my first pint in. The pubs I’ve kissed in. The ones I’ve watched sport in, and the ones where I’ve drowned my sorrows. 

They’ve closed the doors that we dance through over Christmas and fall through at New Year. They’ve locked the rooms that we cry in, and argue in, and fight in, and flirt in, and laugh in, and cheer in. Where we learn things, forget things, repeat things, plan things, forget things, and forget things. The places where we repeat ourselves. The pubs that we search for; the pubs that we stumble upon by chance; and, the pubs that make us feel at home.

All shut.

There’s nowhere to go after work, and nowhere to discuss business over a pint. There are no bar staff to confess to. No one to embarrass ourselves in-front of and no crowd to perform to. 

No gigs, no pub quiz, and no one in the cubical next door to hear our splashes of distress. That’s probably a plus, but clean-up’s going to be an issue. We’re down to the cardboard and there’s four empty rawlplug where the soap used to be. I don’t like the vibe of this one. It’s not the sort of lock-in I was expecting.

For the sake of protection, we’ve had to batten the hatch on everything that we love. Our friends, our family, our freedom, and our public home. The place where we celebrate new life, passed life, and two lives coming together. The place where we meet. 

They had it hard enough before the virus. Since the millennium, the number of UK pubs has reduced by over a quarter. Let’s take this time to appreciate one of the most beautiful spots in our nation’s heart. The one with a pub in it. 

When it’s safe to return, drink sensibly and buy from the bars that you couldn't bear to be without.