It is written that all the world is a stage and we are merely players upon it. Well nowhere is this acted out more than in that good old bastion of British foundation, namely the pub!
Historically up to about the 1990’s town pubs, or public houses to give them their full names, had windows that were frosted or darkened to ensure that customers were not seen. Now these establishments are much brighter with see through windows, and largely have an open plan interior. Also historically these pubs, formerly called “Inns” where travellers could get a drink, meal and even a bed, were mainly the haunts of just men clientele, few women and certainly not women unaccompanied used them. Of course this has nearly all changed now with a more liberated acceptance of “the pub”.
These earlier pubs, and still to a certain extent today in many places, used to be like little social clubs with darts, pool and card teams with competition nights. The pub landlord was almost a “little king” and presided over his small “kingdom”. Another famed feature of pubs is “the barmaid” but oh yes, I will come to these celebrated ladies a bit later!
For now, and a veritable gift to “people watchers, the lonely, intrigued and ho ho sardonic poets too” are the pub customers, punters and general passers through, all with manifold behaviours on display. My publisher wrote in his press release for my second book that I “write mainly for the ordinary man in the street, or rather pub, as that is where Laurie is wont to disclaim his verse”. Oh verily yes!
Well on that note I offer my first poem in this article now, sure in the fact, having had it widely confirmed, that nearly everyone can recognise and knows a person like the subject of this poem called “Bar Room Star” which was also published in the Daily Mail …
Bar Room Star
Every pub or bar will have one
There are lots of them about,
And while everyone likes talking
He feels the need to shout.
Amongst his group of cronies
He must be the loudest bloke,
Then burst into raucous laughter
Every time he cracks a joke!
I turn my head to see him
But you couldn’t miss the noise,
For he’s the best at shouting
In the group of loud old boys.
We all laugh at something
In our own personal way,
Within the bounds of reason
As appropriate for the day.
But this loud man doesn’t realise
His grating voice won’t nestle,
And he clearly has forgotten
The saying of the empty vessel.
So the loud man’s noise continues
And his voice you couldn’t douse,
Though I have a deep suspicion
That at home he’s like a mouse!
So that’s our pub loud man sorted out, but there are many other people, including one of my “pet hate” groups, namely that “crowd, cluster or throng” who sit on stalls and form an impregnable barrier to the bar! Worse still though, whilst you are attempting to attract the attention of the bar staff across the human wall and stretch for your beer, assuming that you are lucky enough to have got served, is that you are subjected to all their pearls of wisdom and opinions too!
Not surprisingly I guess, I have written a poem about this situation called “Cocky Too’s”, as I likened them to parrots balancing on their bar stalls in a perch fashioned line. However I have included that poem in a previous article on here so will not repeat, but you can go back and see it, but no worry I also have plenty of “pub themed” poems.
One such poem follows and as often the case with my work it is a true occurrence. It was witnessed in a pub local to me and I will allow the poem to tell the story, thus “Benefit of Laughing” follows …
Benefit of Laughing
Laughter rings across the room
Then there’s shouts and cheers,
I look towards the revellers
Surrounded by their beers.
It is great to hear the laughing
Silence bettered by the noise,
So I smile back at the cheering
And the grown up girls and boys.
But something doesn’t seem right
The laughter’s much too fake,
It seems like a competition
And to shout for shouting sake.
Then the raucous noise is louder
By some banging on the table,
And each person sitting round it
Talks as loud as they are able.
If you didn’t look too closely
At the total lack of grief,
You wouldn’t see their fatness
Or distinctive lack of teeth.
What is this place I’ve come to?
It just does not seem the same,
As other pubs I’ve been to
So I will note the name!
A visit out to the toilets
Leaves me a bit perturbed,
Two men talk loudly at me
And I can’t make out a word!
They seem to be quite happy
When they stagger out the door,
And roll towards their table
But one collapses on the floor.
This brings more fits of laughter
Though the bloke looks in distress,
But the revellers don’t notice
That he’s now a beer soaked mess.
On returning from the toilet
I have a look around the room,
At smaller groups of people
Sitting quietly as the tomb.
So I think I’ve got the answer
To the revellers all at play,
And their cause for celebration
Is that it is benefits pay day!
Well after all those frivolities we go back as promised to the barmaids, bless them all. Still very popular, but I suspect once again somewhat changed these days, but still there for menfolk who go to the pub to escape their wives, or who have been “sent” perhaps by the wives to give them a break too! Of course as is the way in life the men still ogle these “pub bar sirens” and try to chat them up, but many of these barmaids are worldly-wise counsellors who have heard, seen or dealt with it all before. This leads very nicely into the third poem in this article and was written for a “bar gel” in Kent who became a good friend, so I present “Cassie” …
Cassie
Lovely Cassie with the “blondie” hair
I always love it when you are there,
Your warming smile cheers my soul
Even when my team can’t score a goal.
You always laugh and joke with vigour
That won’t distract me from your figure,
For a girl who laughs with a sense of fun
And looks good too, is a special one.
You buzz round the bar in a happy way
And always find nice things to say,
But your smile hides feelings black as ink
And you won’t say exactly what you think.
Lovely Cassie with the “blondie” hair
I always love it when you are there,
We laugh away and joke as friends
But some don’t know just where it ends,
And seek to push your fun too far
Forgetting that although a bar,
And their beer money you collect
You and your job deserve respect.
The pubs code says you must wear black
But you could look good dressed in a sack,
And I’d like to see you made up bright
So with some luck perhaps I might!
So we have had a quick look at our beloved pubs and some of the behaviours and people that use them, as many of us like to do. However they continue, and lots these days are closing down due to changes of attitudes, pub management chains etc., a lot will survive, and their names will be remembered nostalgically and as landmarks and direction indicators for years to come.
All three of my books :–
Poetic Views of Life
MORE Poetic Views of Life &
Reviews of Life in Verse,
will ensure my donation to the excellent charity I support, promote and donate to, that being Help for Heroes and my books only priced £4.99 each are all on sale at Amazon, or from me at …………….. lw1800@hotmail.co.uk
I also have a Facebook page “The Psychy Poet Laurie Wilkinson”
