Pubs are a British institution, staples of the community, but they’re at serious risk. An average of two pubs a day – two a day! – are closing at the moment, and the situation looks likely to get worse as costs escalate.
So I set out to investigate what we stand to lose: to explore what pubs mean to people and what they offer to communities.
A dad and his daughter.
Post-cricket pints.
That’s why I decided to document the Ivy House in Nunhead, which is an incredible example of what pubs mean to a community – and of what can be done to save them. When it was faced with closure in 2013, local people stepped in to protect it, raising money to buy the freehold and pay for refurbishments, and campaigning to have it Grade-II listed. It became London’s first cooperatively owned pub, with each member having the same vote regardless of the size of their investment.
And now the community really is at the centre of the Ivy House. It offers a warm shelter in winter where people can pop in for a free hot drink. There is also a library where people can borrow books or board games, free dog biscuits.
A couple dance at a gig held to raise funds for a friend’s top surgery.
Fundraisers are a regular fixture too. In recent months the pub has hosted a gig to fundraise for top surgery, a community choir concert for asylum seekers, shanty songs performed to raise money for lifeboats, and two nights of music in support of a local pie shop that was on the brink of closure owing to escalating costs.
Focusing hard during the pub quiz.
The community has held a Greenpeace pub quiz, encouraged guests to bring food bank donations to gigs, and held nights where nobody is turned away for lack of funds.
According to Sam, the events manager at the Ivy House and, until recently, the host of its fundraising pub quizzes, “we’re always looking for ways to keep the discussion open and direct about what we can do to keep helping the needs of our community as and when those needs develop”.
Hanging around at Strawberry drama class.
And alongside the fundraisers there are the community events: chaotic kids’ drama classes and even more chaotic ceilidhs. Board game socials for south London carers are a regular fixture, as well as art shows, poetry readings, storytelling nights and sing-alongs.
The pub regularly hosts gigs and album launches, and even offers a rock band training school for young people at half-term.
Friends dancing at the live band karaoke.
The Ivy House used to be a key venue on the pub rock circuit and has hosted gigs by famous names including Joe Strummer, Elvis Costello, Ian Dury, Jeff Beck … and me. They regularly hold a raucous live band karaoke, where punters can sing with a five-piece band behind them, and where I recently did my first ever crowdsurf.
Of course, I saw a lot of the classic pub fodder as well: comedy nights, quizzes and roasts; quiet pints and rowdy birthday parties, post-work get-togethers and post-match pints. I met mothers on maternity leave, war journalists catching up on each other’s news and readers quietly enjoying their books. I got to know the lovely regulars who are part of the furniture.
Kissing couples.
The pub really does feel woven into the lives of local people. I saw first dates and anniversary dinners. I met couples who’d met there and couples who’d been married there. I met one couple who’d lived nearby during IVF and were taking their baby to see the pub for the very first time.
A couple enjoy a slow Sunday morning with their young baby.
As well as weddings, they host wakes. I remember one particularly memorable evening: it was a rainy Monday in January and so I wasn’t expecting to find much going on, but to my surprise the place was packed. A crochet club sat back to back with a bring-your-own-instrument trad music session. A wake had been taking place in the room next door and the mourners poured in, moved by the music. The deceased had loved stringed instruments, and the mourners sang along with the musicians as the knitters and other local people joined in too.
Crocheters sit back to back with a trad music session.
People taking advantage of the pub’s free board games, and a discarded violin at the weekly trad music session.
The pub clearly means a lot to the lovely people who work there as well. Many of the staff have been there for years and have roped in friends to work there too. It feels really baked into their lives: it’s palpable how much they care about the place. They celebrate their birthdays there and hang out after work.
A number of them met their partners there. They’ve forged proper friendships, both with each other and with local people.
Children at the weekly jazz concert.
Catching up on a book next to the pub’s library.
“There’s really a genuine, reciprocal care between staff and our patrons,” the events manager told me.
When I asked him what the pub meant to him, he replied: “Family. Everything! My entire life in London has been an extension of this place, so it’s really hard to imagine where I am now without it.”
When community is being eroded, with more people working from home and shopping online or in faceless chains, these community spaces are more important than ever. The Ivy House is a shining example of what pubs can offer, and what stands to be lost.
