In praise of the pub

A home away from home

Welcome to Mother’s Gonna Work it Out – a newsletter not just for mothers with children, but for everyone who cares for anyone. All previous posts are here.

‘Can we go to the pub, mummy?’

One of things I treasure most about Dexter is our mutual love for the pub. Once we’ve agreed on which one we’re going to (he lists his favourites by name) we’ll pack books and snacks, find our spot, order a pint and some chips, and watch the world go by. 

Taking Dexter to the pub for the first time was a big deal – not just because we’d been locked down for the first bit of his life and I was still figuring out how to deal with the outside world, but also because I was nervous about my old life meeting my new one, and I really wanted them to get on. 

There was only one boozer suitable for his first pub-training session, and that was the Brave Sir Robin. This beautiful pub, tucked into a curve on a north London street, had been my regular haunt for many years. Beyond serving excellent beer, it also had a pair of decent turntables and we used to play music there.  

My partner and I wheeled a sleeping Dexter into the pub in his pram and tucked him in the corner. Archie, our favourite bartender, dashed over to congratulate us and take our order. It was still table service then – mad to think that the idea of thronging at a bar to get your pint wasn’t yet permitted. Dexter slept on and we had a peaceful pint before heading home.

Earlier this year, the Brave Sir Robin closed it doors due to spiralling rents. I cried real tears. A good pub isn’t just about an excellent rotation of craft ales – it’s a place that feels like home. With a small child in tow, it’s also a welcome change of scenery and the chance to share the childcare with the bar staff or friendly customers, even for a moment.

Which is why I felt perplexed catching up on this debate around child-free spaces, inspired by some guy kicking off on a plane because a baby wouldn’t stop crying. I get that some people don’t like children, and even those who do aren’t fans of screaming. But, as the writer notes, it boils down to a need for kindness and empathy on both sides.

For this reason, I’m a huge advocate of pub training for small children. We pack a bag of distractions – books, snacks, toy cars, road tape (thanks Ann), and a stack of magnet building tiles we use to make garages and rockets (thanks Helen); always say hello to the bar staff; walk instead of run (if we run we go home); and ideally find a spot where we can watch buses drive past. Most often we don’t even need to break open the pub bag. Also, we always clean up after ourselves.

After the Robin closed its doors, we packed our pub bag and set forth to find a new favourite. The good news is that we felt welcome everywhere we went. In fact, we even found pubs that preferred children to adults.

I received a message from a friend this week saying that the Brave Sir Robin is coming back. It’s been taken over by new owners. We can’t wait to meet them.

PS: I haven’t written for a while, not because I’ve been in the pub, but because time has been stretched a little too thin. However, I continue to try and master the gear shift from high to low and, taking inspiration from musician K15 who always signs off his newsletters using this format, I thought to share some of my quieter moments:

This is a fascinating listen, this is a welcome re-release, and this is an absorbing read.