Sarah Todd: Pubs can be village hubs – with the right grub

OUR son loves riding to the village pub on his Thelwell. He lives in hope that one day she'll be invited inside. As it is she stands with a hoof all but over the threshold daring passers-by to ignore her. She'll accept the odd leftover salt and vinegar crisp, but with a look that leaves people in no doubt that her rightful place is inside, next to the fire.
By The Newsroom
Published 19th Nov 2010, 15:28 BST
Updated 19th Nov 2010, 15:28 BST

As a young reporter my lodgings were in a pub. It gave a real appreciation of the hard work that goes on behind the scenes. There was tidying up long after everybody had gone home, cleaning out the pipes, visits to the cash and carry, putting on a smile on Sunday mornings and driving a minibus to football matches. The job requirements were endless. That was in the city. If anything, it must be even tougher out in the sticks.

There's no wonder so many pubs are closing with the price of drinks. A glass of wine? We buy a whole bottle for the average amount charged. The Husband has explained that this is nothing to do with poor licensees, but is all down to the breweries and the stranglehold that's kept on prices.

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Whoever put the gastro into pubs also has a lot to answer for. Too many of them these days seem to have ideas above their station when it comes to food. If rural pubs are to keep open, it shouldn't have to be a birthday or other special occasion to eat out in them. The other night we had fish and chips

at a country pub. They have them on the menu as a special every Thursday for the excellent price of 5. They were better than any tasted all year. And do you know what? The pub was bursting – yes, on a Thursday night in winter – at the seams. And because of the good deal on the food, people were buying drinks and puddings. The till was ringing.

Talking of rings, it seems to have been a bit of a boost for people that Prince William has finally put one on his girlfriend's finger.

What a lovely touch that it was the 18-carat sapphire diamond one which we recall with a shock of recognition from that photo of nearly 20 years ago when shy Diana proudly showed it to the world on her betrothal.

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While watching the engaged couple on the news, some writing on the back of an envelope caught my eye.

Our daughter, who of course lost her pony last month and nags about nothing else but finding another one, had written the following poem:

My Pony

He will not be lonely,

I will make sure he's not boney,

I will never watch my TV; that is made from Sony,

Whenever I am told to do something I won't be moaney,

This will be my pony.

Perhaps she needs taking out for a bottle of pop and packet of crisps to take her mind off it all?

CW 20/11/10

Related topics:PubsPrince William