The Local

I have been musing for a while now about the phenomenon of the Local Pub. I grew up in Strathfield, which was pretty poorly endowed with pubs, of the local or any other variety. I now live in the Newtown area, which is a very old skool part of town, with more drinking establishments than you could poke a pubcrawl at. I like it. I have my favourite pub, which I am sure is not news to pretty much anyone reading this, nor is its identity - The Courthouse - or the Courtie, as we locals like to call it.

Here is the rub - I like to think of myself as a local at my Local. Hmm, what do you have to do to qualify for that, I hear you ask. Good question - let's look into that, shall we?

There are two issues, really. Firstly, what constitutes a Local Pub?

1. The most important factor is an air of history and permanence. This is not achieved by getting the Paddy-O-Matic boys in to install in two shakes of a leprechaun's shelaligh a plethora of genuine imitation Irishness. You know the stuff, crisp shiny posters of the 1923 Guiness advertising campaign, a couple of hurling sticks crossed over the bar, lots of green crap, etc. No, I am talking about a bar that has been in situ longer than living memory, decor that has only been updated by installing a few TV's for footy watching and toilets that are an adventure.
2. The second factor - an absence of stainless steel other than in the sink and driptrays, along with no shiny new mahogany - is really the inverse of the first factor. It is in fact worse to go all modern in refitting a pub than to go for 100 Years Of Irish Pubness In A Bottle. The silly thing is these folks spend a gazillion bucks on the refurb, it may well go gangbusters as the trendy set move in for 6 months, then they are left trying to pay for the other half of the fitout until their dying day. Don't do it, I tell you. All that cashish could be spent on new TV's and cheaper beer, for god's sake.
3. The same people sitting around the bar. A pub is a Local when you can walk in and see the same stoney, semi-drunk faces every time you walk in. Initially, the temptation is to think how sad it is that these people are stuck, drinking away their lives with no friends... but they are in on a secret: They probably have more friends than we do, and they are all at the Local too. We all have a drink more often than not when we socialise at home (don't we? no come on, really?), they just have a convenient meeting place already picked out.

So now on to our second item - how do you become one of these insightful people? Here are some of the signs:

1. The days and times of Happy Hour, Badge Draw, the Meat Tray and Toss the Boss are indelibly entered into your mental calendar. You have to set your alarm to get up every morning, you have to remind yourself of your mother's birthday (not me, of course), but when you wake up on a Tuesday, you know where you will be at 7pm that night.
2. You walk into the pub and several of the locals give you a wave, say g'day, or offer a dour nod. When you get the last of these, you know you have cracked it. These ones are the real hard core, and normally you have to have contributed the equivalent of at least 10 years' pension cheques over the bar for them to acknowledge that you are entitled to draw on the same smokey opaque atmosphere as them.
3. When you walk up to the bar, at least one of the bar staff asks if you want your usual. This leads to jealous looks from aspiring locals. Again, true local status is achieved when you can place your empty glass on the bar with some money and faster than you can say "Ok, I'll just have one more for the road", you have a new drink and your change. Miraculous.
4. When someone wants to meet for a drink, and despite your best efforts the location is somewhere other than the Local, you suddenly find your enthusiasm waning. The good news is, if you can't be arsed going to meet them, you could always wander up to the Local for a beer.

Just the one, of course.