Pubs are fascinating at the moment. On the day that the Prime Minister advised us not to attend them, I turned up at one in leafy Highgate, London N6 to find it much fuller than you might expect. I’m not sure that’s entirely a bad thing. People are still getting out, having a jolly time — but carefully. At the Woodman earlier this week, while I sat alone with my book and a drink, everyone was very politely giving each other a metre of space because that’s now the done thing. One couple, in the early stages of courtship, were wondering how close they could get to each other. She was keen. He was less so. I’d dump him, if I were her.
In France, Spain and Italy all bars and restaurants have been closed and everyone has been ordered to stay at home. I’m not sure you could do that in Britain. I am guessing that Boris Johnson has had the brewing industry in his ear telling him that on no account can he close the pubs, for other-wise they will demand enormous compensation, which obviously he does not want to pay them. It’s much easier for him simply to tell people not to go to pubs and restaurants, which costs the government nothing at all.
But the British are crucially different from their more voluble European neighbours in two ways. One is that, historically, we ‘keep ourselves to ourselves’. It’s no hardship to stay indoors not speaking to anyone for several weeks, because that’s what many of us do anyway. I have had the same neighbour for 31 years. I have never been in her house, she has never been in mine, and we have rarely spoken more than a handful of words to each other in all that time.
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in