Pub Culture. Something to Cherish.

It’s not a bar, or a club. Those exist here, true…but I am a talking about “the Pub”. The English Public House Tradition is one not to be taken lightly or for granted, even though it is quite easy to do so. After all, they’re fun, relaxing places to go have a drink and enjoy a bit of life.

Find one you feel comfortable in. I can’t define the process any further than that, except to say, when you have found your “local”, you will just feel it. I have such a place down the road from my house here. As an American living in the UK, I tried several of the local places before I felt at home. Down the road from me are FOUR pubs. All within stumbling distance from home. I did have some choice in the matter. I can now be found on a regular basis at Ye Olde Green Dragon. It is a clubhouse/Masonic Lodge/ locker room/and political forum all rolled into one 187-year-old building.

There are a variety of resources on the net about Pubs and pub-psychology and pub-culture. Try some of these:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Public_house

http://www.pubs.com/pub_history.cfm


http://www.sirc.org/publik/pub.html



But what I wanted to share with you was the importance of the pint and inspiration to converse that comes with sitting in the pub. The pint is the fundamental unit of the pub, but more importantly it is the vehicle of communication and bonding amongst the pub-goers. Ordering a pint is the start of talk with the barman. Discussing the attributes of various offerings on the draught can lead down endless roads of debate. The exact size of EVERY PINT SOLD is the subject of British Law. It is that important. NO foam, No fizziness. That is against the rules. Treat yourself to a pint of hand-pumped English Bitter. It will come to you filled completely to the top. It is incumbent upon you to take the first sip without spilling. Drippage is bad-form, old boy. If imbibed properly, the foam will appear actually as you drink down your pint. In fact, if done just right, you will see a seductive lace-garter of delicate ale-foam drift gently down the empty upper half of your glass…only to come to rest on the satin pillow-top of the remaining liquid.

Now I am thirsty.


Sitting in the pub, you can silently reflect on life if you like. But after about 10 minutes of that, somebody is going to talk you. It is a place of conversation. It happens spontaneously more so here, than anywhere else possible in British society. These are reserved people, mate. The tube is silent, the parks are quiet, the shopping malls civilized. But, on any given evening the pub is bursting with noise.

One other interesting fact I will leave you with…one that inspired me to write this entry in the first place. Pubs allow children in, if they are accompanied, don’t sit at the bar and behave themselves. I have taken my four-year-old son to the pub for a little “Daddy and Max” time. Max had never seen a pub before, but when he got inside, he sat right down, had a coke, some chips, and watched football with me. He was quiet and happy.

Then he turned to me and said, “Dad, people talk to each other here.” I said, “Yes, that’s one of the reasons they come here.”

Max asked, “Are you supposed to talk about important stuff when you come here?”

“You could. Some do.” I said.

“OK. Because this reminds me I have something important to tell you Dad.”

I am intrigued at this. “Sure go, ahead. What is it?”

Max thought for a moment and elaborated. “I saw on TV that putting butter on your food is bad and it makes you die. I saw you put butter on your toast yesterday, and I think you shouldn’t do that because you will die. Why would you do that if you die from it?”

“Did Mommy put you up to this?”

“No, I just wanted to tell you because you took me to the pub and this is where we talk.”

That day, I think Max became a bit more British than American. Partly because of his stance on dairy saturated fats, but mostly because he found his pub too.

(I still put butter on my toast, but not so much.)

--tomb

Mea Culpa. (Like you didn't know THAT was coming.)

Well, gentle readers…when last I submitted something minor for your approval, it came almost immediately after a previous submission. A mere four days had passed and BAM! –Two entries from Tommy. A veritable ROLL I was on, indeed. However, I then let a month slip by. Rested upon my figurative and literal laurels, I did. As a result of August’s blogging, I even received some wonderful contact from distant cousins of mine (on my mother’s father’s side of the family down in Tennessee, for those of you keeping score) that I have yet to respond to. I feel irresponsible and rude. Apologies are forthcoming, this I swear.

What to say that would explain my lapse?

Quite frankly, I work much harder here than I ever have before. Period, full-stop, end of sentence… I use to have quite a bit of F—ing around time of my own creation back in the states. The job was easy, I was good at it, and I was comfy--Perhaps too comfy. Here, the work is great, I love the job, but I am facing a great challenge. One that I will succeed at, mind you. I am quite good at what I do, but…my available time is no longer what it used to be.

(When I think of all the time I used to have back in Chicago to read the internet news and catch up with personal matters in the late afternoons and early evenings. Oh, the salad-days, my friends, salad-days indeed!)

I have had some great things happen here, with the ol’ career…but it sucks up vast amounts of my time and energy reserves. I give most of what’s left to Viki and the kids, who deserve it after being dragged around the world with me. (By the way, the family seems to be taking quite well to the UK. Viki has been out with other “Mums” four times this week. My kids have joined the local drama school and trampoline clubs, and have been to a variety of birthday parties since school has started. Don’t feel TOO bad for them. They are doing fine!)

Oh, and we went to Paris, as can be seen below. So that took up a bunch of time too.

I do (as usual) want to thank everyone who has been writing to me publicly and privately encouraging me to get back to work on the blog. I had no idea there were so many of you. (Even after the LAST time I took a big giant break from the blog.)

Successes at work have allowed me a certain rhythm. With that rhythm comes a bit more time to dedicate to my written pursuits.

Two entries this weekend, gang. It’s a promise I can make because I already have the second one written.

--tomb