FIVE PUBS a week are
said to close down in London. Time is being called on a vanishing part of community
life. The shut-down, boarded up, decaying, derelict edifices that stand
all over London are symbolic manifestation of our changing world.
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Pubs
and churches - on street corners everywhere - were very much the beating pulses
of a community. Both institutions provided for the highs and the lows of a
hard, sometimes short life.
In
and around the area of the docks thirsty labourers would quench themselves with
untold gallons of various brewed beers until time was called. But the docks
have closed and the workers descendants moved on.
Many
of these wonderful old pubs are now consigned to memory (and to internet blogs
like this). We lament their passing but share some responsibility.
A
fellow drinker in a soon-to-close East End pub told me, "It's the
non-smoking, mineral water sipping health fascists that have killed off the
boozer!"
A
bit harsh perhaps, as the way we live our lives isn't the same as a generation
ago. True, medical science found long ago out that too much booze and smokes
will kill you.
But
there's also those market forces and the simple (or rather over-complicated)
price of things.
Crucially too, the
notion of community has changed with old traditions gone. The movement of people is an age-old London thing, and especially
in the east end where (im)migration has been the only constant.
The architectural
residue of the old industrial East-End at play and rest - that of the
permanently shut pub - presents a poignant sight nevertheless. These
Victorian ghosts survived the Blitz but not the ravages of the 21st century.
As
a walking guide around the East End I love exploring the history and locations
of old pubs. It's great fun in a crowd, and even better when you find an open
one to quench your thirst at the end!
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