Last night, we had a CAMRA pub crawl, and one of the participants was a retired gent who said that his normal mode of pubgoing was on his own with the paper. Snap. Exactly the same applies to me. Being someone who still works during the week, the principal times when I am able to explore pubs are Saturday and Sunday lunchtimes. And, all too often, I find that Andy and Denise have decided to bring little Jake and Ellie along to the pub. Quite frankly I am getting fed up to the back teeth with it.
I have no problem with dining pubs admitting children to eating areas. But if I’m in a wet-led pub hoping to have a quiet drink, the last thing I want is howling, wailing brats running around. I really wonder whether I should just give up and stay at home with a nice bottle or two. Admitting children is often presented as “the future of the pub”, but I reckon it’s killing it.