We meet on the corner of Mattock Lane. Charmion in jeans and a yellow jumper. She’s worn nothing but gym gear for over 3 months. I’ve hunted out my mascara and lippy. It feels like a big night. But we’re only going to the pub.
We walk up the road, occasionally shouting at each other, “We’re going to the pub!!!” We arrive at the North Star and snap a selfie by the “WE ARE OPEN!” sign. Another in the entrance.
A friendly host welcomes us and checks that we’ve booked (we have). She opens the string of fake flowers with a “please wait to be seated” sign clipped to it. “Just give your hands a squirt of sanitiser on the way in,” she says, and leads us to a table for 8.
We aren’t asked for our names and addresses on the door. There are no roped off tables. There’s no yellow and black tape banning you from areas of the floor. You don’t feel as if you’re walking into a crime scene like you do in Morrison’s these days. There are no gloves and masks and plastic screens. It feels a lot more like a hostelry than a hospital. The North Star has successfully retained the spirit of the British pub. They’re following the rules but in a way that doesn’t shout “COVID” at you at every turn. They’re simply controlling the number of people coming in, seating them far apart, only providing table service and setting down drinks and plates from a distance.
Our host produces a menu, takes our drinks orders and explains the one way system if we want to use the loo. The menu is more limited than usual. But we’ve not had burger and chips or scampi and chips for ages, so that’s fine with us.
We take a sip of our first pub drink for over 3 months (a glass of New Zealand sauvignon blanc with ice). And take another selfie. The North Star feels much like it often does on a quiet Sunday night. There are enough people to give it a buzz. But it’s not like the packed, sweaty Saturdays of the past. The other drinkers are relaxed. Taking the pub in their stride. They don’t seem as giddy with excitement as we are.
We have a detailed discussion on post-lockdown pub culture and what the North Star has done right. Which is most things (in our opinion). Like the other punters, we quickly forget that we’re in the pub for the first time in weeks. We move on to other subjects: holiday plans, 2021 gigs and festivals, the week ahead, our friends and families. Occasionally we catch ourselves and shout “We’re in the pub!”. And take another selfie. But mostly it just feels normal - and I don’t mean the “the new normal”, I mean the old one.
Dinner and a bottle of rioja arrives. We ask the manager how Saturday went. She says she chose to limit the numbers and the hours to give the staff an easy start and to make sure the pub can stay within the guidelines. The last thing she wants is to have to close again.
There’s no madness, fraternising between tables, fighting, police attendance, people being carted off to A&E. I see a solitary tray of celebratory shots disappearing to one of the outdoor tables. But none of the drunkenness and disorder promised by the press.
A single incident nearly blights an otherwise perfect night. Charmion asks for the vinegar. “Sorry,” says the waitress “we can only give out individually wrapped sachets of mayo and ketchup”. Charmion doesn’t do chips without vinegar. She asks if the waitress can put the vinegar on the chips for her. The manager brings the (no doubt anti-bacterially wiped) bottle. Hospitality wins out over sanitisation gone mad.
We finish our drinks and pay (in a socially distanced way). As we walk home we start to list out the other pubs we’re going to try out over the next week or two. The Forester’s. The Duke of Kent. The Grove.
There’s nothing like British pub culture. My guess is that some will do this well and others won’t. Some will lose the warm friendly spirit our pubs are world-famous for in an effort to demonstrate that they are going the extra mile with the government guidelines. Others will allow chaos and disorder to prevail in order to try to recoup a small portion of their massive losses over the past three months.
We concluded that it will depend who you are as to where you want to go - if anywhere. Some will feel safer in a more sanitised, carefully controlled environment. Others will be hunting out a friendly, cosy bar where they can forget their troubles - or moan about them to fellow drinkers. Last night, the North Star seemed to tread the fine line that combined atmosphere with safety.