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A pub where everybody knows your name
10:16am Thursday 31st October 2013 in Postbag
SIX years ago I walked across the road from my new home to The Anchor and Hope.
I sat down in the garden with a cold beer. I sat alone, that’s how I liked it. A “don’t disturb”
sign written on my face.
Today I am writing about the closure of my precious local, its landlord and landlady, Bill and Leslie and all those other drinkers that have become companions, if not friends.
The Anchor and Hope in Winchester Street is frequented by gardeners, painters, builders, train men, road men, teachers, doctors and nurses and even the odd lawyer.
Everyone has their story. Their woes, their wishes. Everyone has a heart, and they will quietly and inevitably warm yours whether you want them to or not.
When communities slowly and quietly disappear the human world consequently grows smaller.
Large corporations are pushing out the little men. They are faceless, lumbering organisations who aren’t dealing with people but with numbers.
They can’t help it, they can’t see it. It’s what they think is progress.
I suspect The Anchor and Hope is a casualty of this.
It is a watering hole where creatures like myself gather. It doesn’t matter what you talk about, it’s how you feel because of going there.
Welcome, part of something. Part of a community.
The innkeepers are packing as I write, pressured out by the owners for whom the pub is just another asset.
I will find a place for a cold beer on a summer evening, but nowhere has the “heart” of the Anchor and Hope.
Don’t you want to go where everyone knows your name?
JONATHAN LOXLEY, Salisbury
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