The last few days have thrown up a tumult of events to rock the UK’s brewing scene: the sad passing of Des de Moor, one of the best beer writers in the business, the closure of Sharp’s brewery by Coors with the loss of 50 jobs, and the collapse of the BrewDog business wiping out the Punk Equity of hundreds of investors, alongside the immediate closure of 38 bars. Last but not least, the news that a frightening four pubs a week are closing.
Perhaps the most depressing news for the long-term future of pubs was a bit more leftfield and found in the changing pattern in where people find love. According to a recent survey, online dating now accounts for more than 50 per cent of relationships. Ten per cent of people met in their workplace and only around five per cent of couples found their current partner in a social setting including pubs, clubs, cafés and gyms. It certainly made me feel my age as most of my wooing was done in pubs, where my friends socialised and worked part-time. But this was just one of the many things that happened in my village local, and it got me thinking about the part pubs played in my life, including a major part of my career.
I grew up in a small village, with a pub and a church and around 300 inhabitants. I got my first job in the Bottle and Glass washing dishes, and drank my first pint, Scotch Bitter, costing around 99 pence, at the bar. Those of you with a head for such things could work out roughly when this was. The pub was there for christenings, weddings, anniversaries and funerals. There was a weekly OAP’s meeting every Wednesday with whist and domino drives. There were quiz nights and a back room where the village sports clubs had meetings.
The pub formed a central part of the village societal structure much as the continental café, bistro or taverna. Little did I know it at the time, but the American sociologist Ray Oldenberg coined the term third space to describe a social meeting place outside of the home or work where, “friends meet, where neighbours share news, where business is done, where strangers start talking”. The only other place in the village that came close to being a social hub was the church, and there are some interesting parallels in the decline in pub numbers and rural religious attendance. Many of the very same customers who sat quietly sipping a half at lunchtime, and in those days, pubs still had to close in the afternoon, sat in the pews every Sunday.
The opening sentence from an article by the Arthur Rank Centre supporting the work of rural churches could equally be written about pubs: “Rural churches are often seen as small, historic buildings dotting the countryside, but their real impact lies far beyond their steeples. These churches are vibrant hubs of community activity, working tirelessly to meet the challenges faced by rural areas.” Substitute pubs for churches and exactly the same could apply. Which brings me to more statistics and the closure of rural pubs, and some interesting research by a post-doctoral data scientist, who has built a model identifying pubs at risk across the country, and unsurprisingly isolated rural pubs are the most vulnerable.
However, there is one positive, the increase in community-led buyouts of pubs, as of December 2025 there were 227, often the glue holding a remote village together. To date these community-led pubs have a 100 per cent success rate. Pubs like the Swan, Clewer Village, Windsor; Drewe Arms, Drewsteignton, Devon and the George and Dragon, Hudswell, Yorkshire’s first community-owned pub. It is really important we do everything we can to support the Community Right to Buy legislation to enable more pubs to be purchased by their communities. This law is expected to allow communities the legal right of first refusal on community assets and allow up to a year to be able to raise the finance.
Samuel Pepys described the pub as “the heart of England”, and community pubs are a rare success story in this gloomy old world and should be celebrated. They serve a crucial role providing local social and economic support. They are often a vital source of employment, especially for younger members of the community. They are a warm space to meet and socialise. They are intergenerational hubs and home to history and stories and help promote happiness. I’ll raise a glass to that.
