It's pub o'clock

Hi all,

This is a blog about a pub. Yes, yes, it has finally happened, after six years (to the day), I have finally ran out of blog topics. 

Stick with me.

The bar of the pub in question. Can be seen
propping it up every Friday

At the commencement of 2017 (a year and a half ago), I made a minor New Year's resolution, although I did not officially call it a resolution lest I couldn't keep it going. Failing would mean I couldn't berate myself if it wasn't official. The resolution was to sod the fact that I spend quite a lot of time alone and do my own socialising - obviously going on the various trips I have been on since then was a significant part of that. But the other thing I have done is go to one of the pubs in my town most Friday evenings for the past year and a half. Yes, I have largely done this on my own, but thanks to going there several times in the past and my friend who has made numerous good friends there over the years, I know enough people at the place for it to at least be somewhere I am recognised and vaguely respected.

As I have blogged about before in reference to going on my travels, eating and doing things on your own is often seen as weird and unnatural. I don't care about such reactions, largely because I can't afford to, but actually having the initiative to do something alone is not seen as normal. Moreover, I live in a town where this is amplified fivefold; my town is one of materialism and perfectionism, by and large - or at least what one perceives to be perfectionism. Everyone is basically the same at or around my age, and anyone slightly different or, in particular, who dares socialise on their own is cast aside from society. We also all judge books by their covers too - no-one knows why I am in a situation where I have to go out on my own to obtain adequate social activity, or indeed why I don't mind doing so - anxiety has forced my hand.

This pub that I frequent in my town is an exception to this rule of abnormality, however. It is the only place where you can go into and feel welcomed and not portrayed as odd by everyone. Obviously there are some exceptions but compared to most other places it is fine to visit as a socially awkward person with a history of social anxiety but who is now ready to take on the world a bit more. I'm trying to describe myself here, by the way.

The first couple of times I went it was challenging, but I quickly became used to the process and became more comfortable integrating. The nature of the pub and what it has to offer also helps. The food is awesome courtesy of incredible locally-sourced burgers and specialises in real ales, which is my drink of choice. You're seldom judged and you can chat randomly to people, even if just on occasion. It was a superb decision for me to start doing this on a regular basis, because it has improved my social awareness and social conscience, in that I care even less about what other people think of me socially now and that I am in fact proud of not liking the same things everyone else does, or the things you're supposed to like - see previous blog. I have become more accepted and care less if I'm not. I can also make up for spending years being unable to eat (or drink) out, due to crippling anxiety - I never take ANY meal that isn't in my own house for granted. This routine also gives me something to look forward to every weekend, which is important given the new challenges that have materialised as a consequence of my mum being diagnosed with dementia; the physical support I provide to her is at weekends.

However, I bring bad news. The landlord is selling up the pub and moving away. Food ceases mid-July, he leaves mid-August. The pub has been close to the edge of closing before and this landlord pulled it out from the fire and into one of the most popular places in the area. 

But what happens from mid-August? Does the pub close? Does it turn into something generic, losing its character and the elements that have made this somewhere for a social fuckwit like me actually flourish, to a very moderated extent? Regardless, food won't be on the table (quite literally) so that will immediately have an impact. Where else is there in my town where I can dine and not have the more normal 'what the hell is this guy doing at age 30* eating on his own?' *I'll be 31 by the time this happens. Where there is genuine rapport? Where there is warmth and character? That enhances my social life, not damages it? Sadly, I cannot yet think of anywhere.

At least if this pub continues to offer everything with the exception of the food, that will be something - if the people and its overall character remains largely in tact, it'll be an inconvenience rather than a disaster (and a significant loss to the palate). But anything more than that and this social outlet I have discovered will disappear and will be replaced, sadly, by either nothing and/or a less enjoyable experience.

Now, such a minor thing may seem trivial in the grand scheme of things - true, it is - but the reality is that the social enhancement that this place has given me in the past 17 months has provided me with another tick in the box to beating away the devil some people call anxiety. And let's not forget that because of my anxious past that prevented hardly any enjoyable social experiences, trivial things to most are significant things to me.

I fear that this is the first blemish on my copybook of my 30s. I have looked many times at what my life looks like at 35 and hate it, assuming it does pan out how I expect. Perhaps this is the first sign of a social decline that I believe is going to take place over the coming years. I hope not, and hopefully I'm over-dramatising/analysing it. 

So instead I shall celebrate the pub before it finally changes: thank you to my friend for signposting it to me initially all those years ago. Thank you to the landlord for making it into a wonderful place for the past few years. Thank you to the people who go there for making me welcome and comfortable.

I will conclude by saying that today is the sixth anniversary of this blogging site. I wrote a series of special blogs a year ago to mark the fifth anniversary - Five Blogs of Thanks - and I'm still surprised that I have made it to six years. The next chapter in my attempt to support those with anxiety via the digital form is the co-development of the new podcast that I have also blogged about recently with another of my good friends - I've Been Thinking to come your way soon.

Best wishes,
Al