They closed the pub!

Okay – I’m grumpy (again). I went back to England for Christmas – to visit my family. I hadn’t been back at Xmas for 20 years. The place was much the same, that place being Weeping Cross in Stafford. I had a wander around – the old bridle path was still there with it’s stile where I used to sit and stare out over the fields (albeit with a few extra ugly houses added to the scene) and I ticked off the houses of the people that I went to Walton High School with – Rebecca, Mike, Paul, Rob, Emma, Andy, Anne, Jonah, Stevo,  and many more. I went for a walk on Cannock Chase and enjoyed being out in the fresh air among the trees and Sherbrook Valley. On the way there I passed Milford Hall Cricket Club – a haunt of my teenage years. But the thing that hit me was that the Lynton Tavern was closed.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that this pub was not an out there pub, a superbly memorable pub, or even a great pub at all – but it was my local pub. I spent many a Christmas Eve, New Year’s Eve, Friday Night, assorted weekday nights etc in this pub. When I went back to Stafford with my wife to visit my mum – we wandered up there and had a drink in the late afternoon on many occasions.

But it’s now closed.

The adjacent row of shops is still there – with a classy butchers (M. Mottishead’s) a hair dressers, small supermarket, news agent, backers, fish and chip shop. But there is no pub. In fact, there is no community central point. If the pub had become a café – then at least there would have been a meeting point for the locals – that would have been good, but it just stands there empty.

Perhaps it didn’t make enough money – I don’t know – but a suburb without a pub is dead – or at least dying. People have to leave it to go and meet over a beer or a coffee.

I’m really pissed off that they closed the Lynton Tavern, and not just because I had to walk down to the Radford Inn for a pint (I still call it The Trumpet – I prefer the old name being the grumpy of man that I’ve become), but because it sucks more life out of Weeping Cross – and there was little enough of it there in the first place.

So – bollocks – they closed the f**king pub! A pox on whomever ‘they’ are.

About George Fripley
I am a writer who enjoys writing humour, satire, poetry and sometimes a bit of philosophy. I live in Perth, Western Australia and occasionally get a poem or article published. It's all good fun! I have two books available for unwary readers, Grudges, Rumours and Drama Queens- The Civil Servant's Manual (This contains all that anybody could ever want to know about why government runs so slowly) and More Gravy Please! - the Politician's Handbook. (available through Amazon)

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