It’s a sad fact that the traditional British pub is becoming an endangered species. Since the 1980s, pubs have been closing at an alarming rate all over the UK. From around 69,000 pubs in 1980, we’re now down to less than 50,000. That’s nearly 20,000 locals who have pulled their last pints and locked the doors for good over the past few decades.
What’s causing this mass extinction of the classic boozer? Well, there’s no one simple answer. It’s a perfect storm of social, economic and lifestyle changes that have steadily drained pubs of their customers and lifeblood. But before we get into the heaviness, let’s remember the glory days when pubs were the beating heart of every community.
Back in the 60s, 70s and 80s, the pub was the beating heart and cultural centre piece of every community. It’s where friends and neighbours would gather to socialise, share stories, debate, rant, flirt, laugh, and ultimately bond over pints.
The pub was a place to cast off temporarily the stresses of the working week and home life and relax among familiar faces. It didn’t matter if you were a banker or builder, everyone mingled together at the bar to chatter about current affairs, sports, and local gossip. Status and hierarchy were left at the door.
For many, Friday evenings constituted a pub pilgrimage. Workmates would flock in together to mark the end of the grind and kick-start the weekend. Fashion was an important element for many pub-goers. You’d carefully coordinate your outfit, whether it be sharp suits and thin ties for the gents, or hot pants, plunging necklines and bouffant hairdos for the ladies.
The regular Friday night crowd provided a sense of community and continuity. Even if you moved away, you’d forever be welcomed back as one of the gang when returning for a pint. Troubles were shared and hardships halved over a condolence or celebration tipple.
Inside the pub, the alcohol flowed along with banter and laughter. The booming jukebox would provide the soundtrack for gambling on games like darts, snooker or cards. Or some liquid courage might convince you to have a go at singing your heart out during karaoke nights.
Romance and courtship have long gone hand-in-hand with pub culture. Many a relationship began with lingering gazes across a smoke-filled room, leading to coy flirtation over drinks and packets of crisps. With time, conversation and chemistry, phone numbers were tentatively swapped and dates arranged away from the public gaze.
According to a 2012 study, over 30% of couples in the UK first met their partner in a pub or bar, making it the most common place for people to encounter future spouses. Flirting with regulars or strangers at the bar has long been a primary way for Brits to find love, more so than introductions from friends or online dating apps decades later.
This pub flirtation ritual became so ingrained that speed dating events held in bars and lounges rose to popularity in the 1990s and 2000s. The concept formalised this established practice, giving singles a chance to initiate romance by chatting with multiple potential love interests for a few minutes each.
The smoke-filled bars of the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s provided a relaxed atmosphere for getting to know new people romantically. According to a 1984 study, over 40% of regular pub-goers aged 18-30 had engaged in romantic encounters with fellow customers they met at their local. Many respondents cited liquid courage from alcohol consumption as helping break the ice when approaching attractive strangers in bars.
So a huge number of couples tracing their origins back to that first frisson of connection across a busy pub can thank the unique chemistry of the great British drinking establishment. All fuelled by proximity, disinhibition and the timeless appeal of “closing time” to finally make your move.
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During the long hot summers, crowds spilled out onto the streets from packed pub gardens and alfresco bars. Causing raucous laughter and even the occasional brawl. But generally, a spirit of devil-may-care conviviality prevailed in these dear old boozy institutions.
One beloved pub tradition that captured this summery spirit was the ‘beano’ – organized day trips to the British seaside. Many pubs would charter buses or trains to ferry regulars en masse to coastal towns like Blackpool, Southend-on-Sea, and Brighton for a day of sun, sand, and more drinking.
Deckchairs, buckets and spades, sticks of rock candy, greasy fish and chips wrapped in newspaper – these were all standard on a classic British beano. Swimming in the ocean or lazing on the beach would be punctuated by frequent pub stops along the seafront. The boozing would continue on the journey home, with singalongs and drinking games on the bus.
For many pubgoers, especially families with kids, the annual beano was the highlight of the summer. A rare chance for working-class communities to enjoy a brief seaside holiday, created by the enterprising local landlords who wanted to reward their loyal customer base.
The occasion called for wearing your flashiest, loudest holiday garb. Crimplene pants, coconut oil tans and tiny swimsuits were paraded with pride. Sunburn, raucous laughter, and stumbling off the bus loaded with candyfloss and cockles were marks of a successful beano.
These pub trips represented a wonderful spirit of escapism and bonding for neighbourhood drinkers. Temporary liberation from the every day through these booze-fueled, sea air-salted communions of high jinks and hedonism by the ocean.
Pubs were the epitome of community, where everyone was welcome regardless of social class or status. The same faces would gather behind the same bars daily, where generations of landlords knew your name and drink order.
Entire families would treat their local as an extension of their living room. Kids would sit with soft drinks while parents caught up with neighbours. Teenagers impatiently awaited turning 18 when they could finally join the adults at the bar.
Groups of old timers would hold court by the dart boards or fireplace, reminiscing about bygone days over pints. They’d bemoan how things were better “back in their day” and dole out unsolicited life advice to younger pub mates.
The pub served as a space for mentoring and friendship between generations. Older regulars would share tales from wars, industries and decades gone by. While the young ‘uns would keep the fogies entertained with gossip about new music, fashions, and hijinks.
Going down the pub meant belonging to this multi-generational clan. Even if you did get barred for a few days after attempting karaoke whilst dangerously inebriated (sorry King’s Head). It was a rite of passage proving you were part of the merry band of misfits and rabble-rousers.
From helping to fix a mate’s car, celebrating births and mourning deaths, the pub was there through life’s ups and downs. Your triumphs and failures, laughs and losses were all soaked up by the walls and bar taps – the ever-present backdrop to the changing phases of existence.
In the late 1980s and 1990s, the pub landscape began to rapidly change with the rise of chain pubs and bars. High street staples like Wetherspoons, Walkabout and O’Neills offered cheap drinks, loud music and an atmosphere catered towards younger drinkers looking for a good time.
While they proved popular with students and weekend revellers, these corporate drinking dens lacked the charm and community spirit of the traditional local. With their generic furnishings, microwaved food and homogenous atmosphere, the chains felt sterile compared to pubs with more character that regulars had been drinking in for decades.
Many lamented the loss of the traditional “boozer” as pub chains expanded aggressively. They derided the shift towards mass-produced corporate drinking and dining, rather than the intimate, quirky and cosy pubs that felt like a second home.
Landlords of old-school pubs struggled to compete with the cut-price drinks and slick marketing of the new big chains. Many were forced to choose between trying to follow new trends or sticking resolutely to “the way things were done” as customer numbers dwindled.
The smoking ban in 2007 added further strain, as the natural accompaniment of cigarettes and alcohol was severed. Regulars who enjoyed settling in for a long session with drink, chat and smoke suddenly dropped off.
This one-two hit of competition from pub chains and the smoking ban pushed many community locals to the brink of survival. Their foundations were shaken as newer bars with novelty value thrived. For the stalwart traditional pub, it marked the beginning of an existential crisis.
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The generational shift in drinking and socializing habits also started to change the pub landscape. For Millennials and Gen Z, the rise of mobile phones and social media provided new ways to interact. Why bother going to the pub to meet up with mates, when you could just WhatsApp, Snapchat or scroll through Instagram from your sofa?
The lure of online dating over in-person meetings at the bar also took hold. Swiping right on Tinder and messaging potential love interests became a more popular way to make romantic connections than flirting with strangers over a pint.
As digital natives, younger generations found it harder to see the appeal of small talk with randomers at the local. For them, the pub had less novelty value compared to older drinkers who saw it as central to their social life.
Economic factors also came into play. During the 2008 recession and squeeze on real wages, younger drinkers viewed pub trips as an unaffordable luxury they’d rather forego. Why spend £4 a pint at the pub when you could buy a four-pack of cider from the supermarket for the same price?
The shift towards home drinking and pre-drinks before nights out was another blow to the bottom line of pubs relying on alcohol sales. You’d warm up with cheap drinks at a mate’s house before heading out, rather than building up a big tab while out.
This combination of digital disruption, economic austerity and generational differences turned younger people away from the pub. Leaving many drinking dens populated mainly by older nostalgic regulars clinging onto tradition, rather than embracing the new.
The COVID-19 pandemic and resulting lockdowns dealt a devastating blow to the already struggling pub industry. For months, pubs were ordered to close entirely or operate at reduced capacity with social distancing measures.
This cut off the lifeline of food and drink sales that kept many pubs just about surviving. Without regular custom and cash flow, thousands found themselves careening towards permanent closure under a mountain of unpaid rent and bills.
Even when restrictions eased, many drinkers were still wary of socializing indoors and stayed away. The loss of office workers popping in for lunchtime pints also hit city centre pubs hard. Changing habits meant some customers lost the routine of visiting their locals regularly.
Just as the industry seemed to be getting back on its feet in 2022, the cost of living crisis has triggered a fresh wave of closures. Spiralling energy and supply costs have made operating pubs increasingly unviable, especially for small independents.
With inflation squeezing household budgets, customers have cut back on non-essential spending. Energy bill hikes have forced pub owners to make tough decisions to stay afloat. Some have reduced opening hours, trimmed menus and hiked prices – but still found the business unable to turn a profit.
After surviving the battering of lockdowns, many pubs are now closing for good just as they tried rebuilding for the future. From rural locals to historic city pubs, a distressing number are shutting up shop each week.
But it’s not all doom and gloom for the British pub. Since the pandemic lows, there are signs of a mini-renaissance and a renewed appreciation for the community local.
After endless months stuck at home in lockdowns, people have rediscovered the simple joy of visiting their neighbourhood pub. That special feeling of camaraderie and escape when surrounded by familiar faces, good conversation, and the crisp taste of a proper hand-pulled pint.
Pubs are adapting and diversifying to attract customers old and new. Quizzes and game nights, open mic and music events, street food pop-ups and guest craft brews all give people more reasons to stop by.
When Margaret Thatcher became prime minister in 1979 she promised to bring harmony where once there had been discord. But Britain entered the 1980s bitterly divided over its future. At stake were the souls of the great population boom of the 1960s. Would they buy into the free-market, patriotic agenda of Thatcherism? Or the anti-racist, anti-sexist liberalism of the new left?
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Social media promotion and under-tapped weekday lunch deals are helping publicize community pubs to new crowds. Many are refreshing tired décor and upgrading amenities like WiFi, outdoor seating and family play areas.
Communities are also banding together to save treasured locals. Campaigns to get beloved pubs registered as assets of Community Value make developers think twice about closing them. Some pubs have even been taken over by local residents who join forces to run them cooperatively when the owner moves on.
While the traditional spit-and-sawdust pubs of yesteryear may never fully return, the industry is now built on firmer foundations following the seismic shocks of COVID. Customers now cherish their locals more than ever after too many close calls.
There are reasons to be hopeful. But pubs aren’t out of the woods yet, with soaring energy bills threatening viability after rebuilding from the pandemic. They need all the help they can get from loyal regulars and sentimental supporters.
Because the Great British Pub still has an invaluable role to play. They remain vital spaces for human connection and community, in an increasingly isolated digital world. Where friendships are forged, romances kindled, and memories made over pints through generations.
As the famous World War 2 slogan said: We’re all in this together. So support your local while you still can. Pop in for a swift half or lingering session and be part of the story. Keep the tradition going so that generations to come can also enjoy the unique warm fuzzy embrace of a good old British pub. Cheers to that!
