I’ve been going to the same boozer now for almost fifteen years.  Ever since it first opened, in fact.  I sit in the same chair––same position on the same banquette, to be strictly accurate––at the same table.  It is my home from home.  With the advantage of beer on tap.  Except for a brief hiatus during Covid, barely a week has passed by without me to be discovered a fixture in my usual corner.  It is my sanctuary.  My happy place.

Except…

Something has happened.

In truth, it was the previous manager who started it.  He altered the layout somewhat; changed the shape of the bar; fiddled around with the chalkboard listing which beers were available.  I have always lived by the policy: “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”.  The previous manager’s ‘improvements’ seemed like unnecessary meddling.

And now there’s a new manager.  And he doesn’t know me.  Doesn’t recognise me as a ‘local’.  Doesn’t greet me with a smile of recognition.  Doesn’t know what is my ‘usual’.

Am I falling out of love with My Local?  And, if so, what can I do about it?

There are lots of other pubs close to My Local.  I could switch allegiance.  I could go to any one of them.  The problem is that, in my time, I have been to every one of them.  I know that I might be received with open arms from any of them, but they are none of them a patch on My Local.

So, should I just ride out this rough patch?  Accept that every relationship has its ups and downs.  Or should I play the field?  Venture further from home in order to recapture that old special feeling?

It is a dilemma.

Until…

I find myself back in my usual corner, sat at my usual table, in the same position on my usual banquette, with a pint of wheat beer in front of me.

I take a sip from my glass and, instantly, I know that I am not going to find a nicer drop within walking distance.

© Beery Sue

Beery Sue recognises the importance of loyalty.