It’s 2015 so why are lone beer-drinking women still seen as the bearded-ladies of pub society? Kelly Rose Bradford just wants a quiet pint in a backstreet boozer
The great British pub. Dark corners, sticky carpets and the whiff of stale beer and pork scratchings. Perhaps an open fire and a dog or two. It’s an institution. And to my mind, no better place to wile away an afternoon or evening. Snug in an alcove, book in one hand, pint in the other.
I love pubs and I love beer. Give me a good old-fashioned backstreet boozer and a tepid pint and I’m happy. Well, eventually I am – once everyone else has got over the fact I am a 40-something woman drinking on her own.
The pub is where I escape to when work and parenting get too much, when the walls of the house are closing in on me. Not for the sake of drinking, but for the atmosphere; the low level buzz of conversation, the people watching, the whole sense of place. I go to the pub for the same reason as any man, I suspect, yet the overriding feeling is that it is still very much their domain. Read the full story here.