Pubs & Pandemics

How would the Inklings have conducted their meetings during a pandemic? Would they have continued secret rendezvous at the Eagle and Child?

Of course not. They were a law-abiding group of thinkers, and would never have thought to visit a pub if the Queen or Prime Minister told them to remain at home. After all, even the University of Oxford is following government directives: “All non-essential staff members must work from home. . . . Students have been asked to leave the University unless they have a compelling reason to stay.”

My guess is that C.S. Lewis would have relished the opportunity to settle in at home to work on his correspondence and perhaps a new essay. He would, of course, still want to enjoy a good walk during the day—although Lewis would doubtless wear a mask and maintain safe distances.

Pubs are on my mind due to a recent article entitled “How the Black Death Gave Rise to British Pub Culture: For centuries-old bars, a pandemic is nothing new.”

The piece featured two ancient public houses that lay “claim to the contentious title of Britain’s oldest pub and [are] no stranger[s] to pandemics.” While we lived in the U.K., I don’t recall ever visiting Ye Olde Fighting Cocks in Saint Albans.* However, we did enjoy visiting Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem in Nottingham.

In times of tribulation, such as war, pubs provide a warm respite for many. An alcoholic can drink happily in solitude at home.⁑ But one express purpose of a pub is to foster a casual and comfortable social environment.

C.S. Lewis and his fellow Inklings enjoyed pubs in Oxford. When Lewis moved to the environs of Cambridge, he naturally sought out a similar setting in which to relax and entertain. In 1954, he wrote the following to a friend.

There are excellent pubs at Cambridge; and I speak from first-hand knowledge, having just returned from a week of spying out the land there. I’m afraid one must admit that, architecturally, Cambridge beats Oxford; there is so much more variety in Cambridge.

Here in the United States, only “essential” functions have remained accessible during the various restrictions imposed by “stay-at-home orders.” It’s sobering to ponder what our culture values most important, weigh those deemed necessary (e.g. marijuana dispensaries) against those deemed nonessential (e.g. churches).

Gradually now they intend to transition toward a restoration of some of our Constitutional rights. The New York Times is updating the state-by-state status on a regular basis.

It will be interesting to see if this progresses forward gradually, or if unanticipated events cause any locales to reverse their course.

Hopefully, life will return to “normalcy” sooner rather than later. The scars will last though, whatever happens. Lives lost. Businesses closed, with hopes shattered and dreams dispelled. In the aftermath of this global tragedy, it may well be that cordial, familiar gathering places, will once again play a role in reestablishing balance.

The previously cited article about the Black Plague says, “For Brits, a pub has always been more than just a place that sells beer . . .” That sentiment is true in many other cultures, as well. We humans are, by our very nature, social beings. Being deprived of these social settings has caused some people to experience a sort of shell shock. It may well take some time—and perhaps even a pint or two—to begin the healing.   


* Our family did visit the spectacular Roman ruins of Verulamium. One of the Romans’ largest cities, it was destroyed by Boudicca during the rebellion she led. It was later renamed in honor of Alban, one of the first British martyrs.

⁑ Some alcoholics do prefer to get plastered in bars. Examples include Ernest Hemingway and Dylan Thomas. The latter had his final drink at New York City’s White Horse Tavern. “After downing 18 shots, Thomas collapsed outside the tavern and later died at St. Vincent’s Hospital.”

Up in Smoke

hookahsI have the misfortune of living in one of the two states that has legalized the growing, distribution, use and promotion of marijuana.

The fauna and (natural) flora of Washington are scenic beyond compare. But in order to enjoy them, I am forced to live in a location where what was inconceivable a decade ago has become commonplace.

This week, in my small town of nine thousand, they opened our first “hookah lounge.” Although the owner’s initial license only allows the sale and on premises use of various tobaccos and other weeds, it’s no secret the owner is eager to expand his offerings.

My purpose here is not, however, to debate the merits of legalizing cannabis. I want to share with you the utterly apropos name of this hookah palace. It is called “Up in Smoke.”

While I’m sure the entrepreneur thought he concocted a brilliant play on words for his establishment, I cannot help but shake my head at the irony.

After all, what does the phrase actually mean? The expression isn’t truly an “idiom,” since the words are quite straight forward. It means what it says, referring to something of potential value that has been burned and is now lost, spoiled or wasted. Of course, the last of those synonyms also has another connection to the world of drugs.

I suspect the actual meaning of the phrases pass right over the head of the owner. He certainly misses the irony, or he would not adorn his establishment with that moniker.

I assume the purveyor of lung destroying inhalants is consciously referencing the 1978 film by this name, that glorifies the drugged induced stupors of Cheech and Chong. (Not a pinnacle of cinematic achievement.)

The saddest thing about using drugs for “recreation,” or distraction from the responsibilities of life, is that it often results in lives going up in smoke. While marijuana itself is apparently used “recreationally” by many successful people, with little negative impact, that’s far from true for all who “inhale.”

As I try to recall every individual I’ve personally known who used the drug, I’m unable to think of a single person who stopped there and did not at least experiment with some other drug. From my subjective experience, it definitely proved to be a “gateway” drug.

While none of these acquaintances became what would traditionally be labeled an “addict,” I can think of several tremendously talented and gifted people who never lived up to their potential. And I attribute at least part of that regret to being distracted from school and employment as young adults.

Similarly, of all of the people I’ve counseled regarding drug-related struggles during the past three decades, I’m hard-pressed to recall a single one who did not begin his or her narcotic journey with the ubiquitous weed.

Drugs, of course, are not the only diversions that cause us to miss out on the full experience that life offers. As C.S. Lewis wrote:

We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased. (The Weight of Glory)

I’m not casting stones here. I too waste far too much time and energy with fruitless distractions. In doing so, I watch part of my own life go up in smoke. Still, I doubt I’ll ever experience the slightest temptation to waste the briefest moment of my life . . . in an ill-named hookah den.