When I was young my father, a man who liked beer would often call into a boozer for a libation when we were out and about. As a result I became familiar with the outside of such classy pubs as the Seven Seas in Kilbowie Road, Clydebank, The Ferry Master in Renfrew and the Kelburn or the Watermill in Paisley. Scotland being a fine Calvinist country didn't allow nippers even a sight of the interior of a Bar.
At home in Ireland every summer it was very different. Many a happy hour I spent supping a McDaids Football Special while Dad had a pint and a laugh with his cronies in fabulously friendly but dingy pubs with names like Currans, Friels and McLaughlins in little villages with no other source of entertainment.
Looking back I realise that my own love of the drinking life was developed by this early exposure. Even today I love the smell of stale beer you get in a really dingy pub. Something today's fun pubs and ridiculous theme bars never deliver. Irish pubs in the sixties and seventies were great fun to be in because of the people you met not the music or the comfy seats. Where did those leathery faced men in tweed go? Where did those old landladies go, the ones who gave me free crisps and always knew my name. These days in my local I am lucky if I get served by someone who speaks English.
These days taking your child to the pub for anything other than a full meal is socially unacceptable, my dad would probably be in jail for neglect if he was around today. Would it have made me a better person if I missed out on these memories, I don't think so. Society has moved on but some 'improvements' haven't made life better.