Once upon a time, back in the day, pubs were the centre of the community. Now though, for a variety of reasons, Great British Public Houses are closing at the rate of 52 a week.
Well, I for one, will not stand by and allow this assault on one of our country’s great institutions go unfought.
And thus, this afternoon, instead of taking my kids to the park after a hard day at the coalface of Invisible Vinne and Watch Out Big Bro’s Coming, I decided to take a stand and move their Homework Station to My Local.
If my local closes for lack of custom, I will have nothing save these four back-bedroom walls and the inane ramblings of my blog for company. If my local closes, my children will, when they grow up, have to travel far and wide to seek out the fascinating smalltalk about Andrew Marr’s super-injunction or the White Hot Battle for fourth place in the Premiership.
No, I owe it to them. The pointlessness of my life will become the pointlessness of their lives. In time. But there is no time like the present to get them into training.
Hence this photograph of Child 1 passing on her scholarly reading wisdom to Child 2, while I sit back and feel like I am making a contribution to Britain’s future.
All hail the ale, as a very wise man told me last week!