The view through my glass bottom

Brave new bubble

I used to be a fan of dystopian science fiction – you know, the sort that charts the trials and tribulations of human survival after an unspecified but catastrophic worldwide event. But now it all seems just a bit too real, don’t you think?

On a personal level, it started innocuously enough: 11th March, drive to Liverpool, M6 closed for some reason, diverted towards Runcorn, then over the spectacular Mersey Gateway Bridge, to hotel check-in (a few Atletico Madrid guests milling around) and thence to SIBA’s BeerX.

I’m going to admit – because I know I’m not the only one – I wasn’t at the time taking ‘the virus’ seriously enough.

‘No handshakes, but nobody’s said anything about snogging!’ I joked. Scared a few old friends, that did – mostly for reasons other than the fear of infection.

The first time the laughter died was when I browsed through Independent Brewer magazine’s 40th Anniversary history of SIBA and found a reference to the trade body’s first chief executive…and there…in black and white...it wasn’t me. Bloody hell, I didn’t get a single mention in the whole article.

A fleeting thought crossed my mind: was that futuristic Mersey Gateway actually a portal into a parallel world where my whole backstory had been rewritten?

~ Nearly four months later, the alternative-reality concept has persisted far beyond the trivial damage of a bruised ego, put my angst into some measure of perspective, and consigned any residual flippancy to the ‘inappropriate box’. I’m trying very hard to grasp the extent of the pandemic’s dire impact, both definite and potential – health-based human tragedy, disruption of everyday life, immediate individual financial cost, and longer-term broader economic consequences.

And it’s even harder to strike the balance, between these conflicting elements, which is essential for the formulation of a constructive strategy to rebuild, with minimised risk, some semblance of ‘normality’.

Please don’t expect me to pass forensic comment on the Government’s handling of the crisis. Of course I have my opinions, but you’d have to buy me a pint to get them. And once you got me started you’d probably regret it.

Closer to home, though, I ought to be qualified to contribute some thoughts about the beer and pub industries’ response. Reasserting the credentials of my real résumé, I have held positions of authority at every professional level: pub, pubco, brewery and, yes, trade association, so I can picture myself back at what is now an extremely sharp end of operational management responsibility. There but for the grace of antiquity, you might say.

In spite of this track record, I’m finding it difficult to offer dispassionate and objective assessments. My entire working life has been underscored by an indivisible passion for both beer and pubs – together, never one without the other. It’s exactly fifty years – summer 1970 – since I first went into a pub as a pint-buying punter, and losing that really has felt dystopian. ~ I have nothing but admiration for publicans who have found ways to continue to serve their communities with some form of takeaway provision. Equally, however, I empathise totally with those who have kept their doors firmly closed because their commitment is so fundamentally dependent on premises that are fully open for on-trade business. I’m a little ashamed to admit to some selfish relief that I’m no longer in a role where I have to make decisions in such circumstances.

Most brewers have significant off-trade sales, so haven’t been hit as hard as pubs – we have all kept drinking, haven’t we? But this is not to downplay the challenges they have faced, and many have responded with brilliant click-andcollect and home delivery schemes. What has been highlighted is that different sectors of brewing feel the loss of the on trade to varying degrees. Traditional cask ale has naturally been the biggest loser, in contrast to anything aspiring to the ‘craft’ label that is just as at home in bottle or can as on draught. Where the beer/pub synergy really lies has never been more apparent.

As I’m writing this, pubs are about to re-open – albeit under strict operational guidelines, which have forced my village local to cancel its planned live music celebrations. I can’t expect another half century of proper pub leisure time, but I do hope to enjoy at least a bit more before too long.

At the moment, it feels a social distance away.

Julian Grocock

Julian Grocock is a former pub landlord, managing director of Tynemill/Castle Rock, and chief executive of SIBA.

Extensive experience in beer and pub politics, brewery and pubco operations, and on the front line in the pub trade...‘from cellar to ceiling’.