The Great British Pub is in terminal decline, with last orders being called on thousands each year. Should we care?
OUTSIDE THE WHITE HORSE IN STONESFIELD, on a triangular green island in the middle of three roads, there’s a gigantic horse chestnut tree.
We’re in Soho Farmhouse territory here, deep in the Oxfordshire Cotswolds. Stonesfield is a one-bus-an-hour sort of place. It’s the last day of September and slightly chilly, and there’s a windfall of conkers underneath the tree. The smell of wood smoke drifts over the village. In a bus shelter on the green island, a laminated poster advertises the new Stonesfield Village website. “What’s new in the village?” it asks over a stock image of hands typing on a keyboard. “Log on to discover more.”
It’s Saturday afternoon and a steady stream of people walks past the tree and into the White Horse pub. It looks a little like a farmhouse, with walls made of unevenly shaped and sized lumps of stone and elegantly bowed beams inside. The bit of the beer garden where some groundbur rowing bees live is cordoned off. “BEE-WARE,” says the sign. “BUZZ OFF.”
There used to be seven pubs in Stonesfield but, one by one, they closed. Three and a half years ago the White Horse, the village’s last, closed for a lockdown and never reopened. Now, after selling shares to 600 locals and about 400 people from further afield, the pub has been acquired by the people of Stonesfield. Three weeks after buying it outright, a team of about 90 locals scrubbed, painted and polished it back to life.
Claire Renshaw takes a breather behind the bar after lunch service. She’s the chair of the White Horse committee, and this weekend sees the first in a run of pop-up pub sessions to reintroduce it to the village. “WE ARE ALL VOLUNTEERS PLEASE BEAR WITH US,” pleads a chalkboard on the bar. “I didn’t have anything apart from cashews and pork scratchings to eat yesterday,” she says, halfway through a bowl of soup.
She’s lived in Stonesfield for 13 years, so is “still a blow-in”. Life here, she says, was very boring without the pub. The White Horse has been hit by pretty much ever y problem pubs at large have experienced —unpredictable landlords, threats of development, Covid, building owners making puzzling decisions, everything being incredibly expensive — and now people are making its soup, baking its bread, tidying its garden, sweeping its floors and pulling its pints. The vibe is one of frazzled, manic excitement.
Defining what a pub actually is can be tricky. The Campaign for Real Ale (Camra) definition of a pub runs to four main principles, with four extra subsections and six additional notes. The key points are these: pubs don’t charge for entry, or require you
