Chris Maclean: The smell of fear

These are interesting times. There is a palpable smell of fear in the air. Businesses need to be determined and resolute to compete in this climate.

What is noticeable, for me here at the Railway at least, is that the busy times are busy and the quiet times are, er, quiet. That might seem obvious but several times this week I've caught myself glancing around the bar and wondering if, right now, the credit crunch is starting to bite on my business. Then 10 minutes later I am reassured as a crowd builds up. One night this week at 10 to eleven there wasn't a soul in my bar. That had never happened before.

The point I'm trying to make is that, although for me the pub's takings are pretty much where they should be, there is a sense of fear that the storm has yet more damage to do.

During the week I took advantage of the sunshine and I visited a few rural pubs. I was delighted to see many of them with gardens packed with customers. These destination pubs will need to do well now. The weather will put a generous veneer over their plight. There is a long winter ahead and I think many of them know it. Glancing at the lists of available pubs in the papers and on the internet I recognise several solid pubs, dependable pubs which have lasted all the turmoil of previous decades, now being abandoned and rejected. These businesses maybe know something we don't.

But I do know it is possibly a time for great bravery. I do believe some businesses can take this opportunity to steal a few yards over their competition. For example, Young's has recently taken a magnificent pub in Canterbury, in an area where Young's is not well known. It has invested heavily and if it plays it right will have a powerful position when things improve. It is being brave. And the new tenants I get to meet when I am training are often full of the enthusiasm necessary to capitalise on a turgid market. Some will fail but others will make a significant impact.

But I am getting a real anxiety that the permanent legacy of this period will be a visible scar on the landscape.

The one pubthat has closed in our town is in a prominent position and could, with vision, be an outstanding pub. It has been run by a succession of people unable to control it and it has become a byword for drunken excess.

I thought of buying it and turning it into a success but I have discovered the pubco selling it has included "a restricted covenant that will prohibit the future sale of draught beers from the site", forever destroying its provenance and reshaping the town's history. Such an odd thing to do. It seems like spitefulness. Why? Because they failed why must they prohibit anyone else from succeeding? Are they frightened of being upstaged?

Some brave soul could have made a great pub there and restored some of the balance with an independent offering. Perhaps a small freehouse, like the ones that were swallowed up in the eighties and nineties by greedy pubcos, which could achieve something excellent. That's what I'd like to see.

So my anxiety is increased by the likely tragedy that as the pubcos retreat, when pubs fail, they will adopt a scorched-earth policy and finish those pubs forever, board them up and then sells them with needless covenants, consigning them to the history books. Shame on them.