IN SCOTLAND, hundreds of pubs will close down during this recession and it will be a crying shame for certain small areas when their local bars hit the skids.
I was a bar owner myself for many years. When I wasn't actually pulling pints in my pub, I was a psychologist, therapist and marriage-guidance counsellor rolled into one. The upside of many bars closing is that maybe people will spend more decent qua
lity time with their own families – instead of kids waiting for their parents to come back from the pub on a weekend night. But the flipside to that is, if lots of pubs close, hardened drinkers will sit at home boozing in front of the fire, annoying their loved ones who used to be glad it was the local barmaid who had to listen to the nonsense which they now have to suffer.
When I was a barmaid, pubs weren't just places for people to get stonking drunk in. They were somewhere for the locals to come together. As much as society would like it to be different, communities aren't always created by local folk meeting in a library and discussing the classics – certainly not in the Calton in Glasgow's East End, where my bar was.
The pub also provided a good starting point for new faces to be welcomed into the bosom of the community – as well as helping everyone to figure out who to avoid. The old saying "The truth comes out when the drink goes in" helped neighbours decide who to ostracise and who to help out.
Our wee pub provided a place for local pensioners to gather during the afternoons; they didn't really drink much, but they enjoyed the company. Elderly women and men sat together and nattered about the wheelie bins, played dominoes and passed on great advice on everything from knitting clothes to child-rearing and some wonderful recipes for dough balls.
Pubs also play a huge role in their area beyond merely providing a place to meet. Bands, comedians and musicians often get their first gigs in their local: Jerry Sadowitz started his comedy career in my pub in 1983. I wrote plays and had them performed in my pub, with local customers as the actors. We had paintings on the walls by local artists; charity events were staged for neighbourhood schemes.
Bus runs and European trips are organised in pubs, people travel together, look after each other. If bars are closed, the heart of that gathering of folk will be lost. It's unlikely those people will start meeting up in their community centre. Do support your local pub. It now needs you more than ever.
Forget the cafés, save our schoolST JAMES' Primary School in the Calton is under threat of closure.
It is a magnificent old building, which sits near the River Clyde and has been serving the locals for over a hundred years. Glasgow Council says it can't afford to keep it open and it's too old, yet the alternative school they have suggested is just as old and is in Dennistoun, with no direct bus link from the area.
Many working families who rely on their parents and friends to pick up their children after school are at a loss about what to do. They will have to schlep on two buses to bring them home.
Come on, Glasgow Council, if you can spend over £5 billion on the fancy Clyde Waterfront, which will boast smart, trendy flats and upmarket cafés, then start supporting the local people of the Calton and Bridgeton, who have lived by the river for generations. Save St James's Primary School!
Smoking is bad for your health… and your best chinaAMID all the grief and pain of my stepmum's recent death and funeral, I went outside my dad's house at 4am for a quick smoke and a cup of tea. I needed some time alone. His wee cul-de-sac was so quiet and steeped in memories for me; the snowy paths were bathed in moonlight and I stood there thinking about mum.
Then I slipped on the black ice, smashed mum's favourite china cup, woke up the neighbours with the noise and bruised my bum.
My stepmum hated me smoking and I think she may have just got the last word!
www.janeygodley.co.uk