Chris Maclean: So why am I so sentimental about a sunflower?

The Railway Hotel is located on the corner of two roads. One, Station Road, is probably typical of most roads of that name. The other is the main route into the town centre. A lot of traffic passes our corner.

Some weeks ago in a warming gesture of neighbourliness a local resident planted a sunflower in a raised bed outside the pub. This raised bed had been untouched for many years, a pointless exercise given the vandals in the area.

To our suprise the sunflower flourished. We watered and nurtured it. For a couple of weeks this majestic flower stood defiantly where no flowers had gone before. The only indignity was when I caught an idiot plucking petals from it - but that passed.

First day of the school term and the head was torn off it. Until this weekend the stalk stood like a monument to the fallen. Sunday that too was ripped out.

So why am I so sentimental about a sunflower? Well, frankly, it matters. This pub is, like many, an integral part of the community and, like many other pubs, we try to put ourselve out to offer something uplifting. I polish the brass, clean the windows, put out plants, sweep the frontage and a host of other details that show we care. If we didn't the overwhelming message would be that we didn't care; that we were perhaps not sufficiently involved in the community and therefore perhaps more likely to move on. The care shows a commitment.

This also translates to our attitude to how we run the pub. Undeniably we are sloppy with our security. Internal doors remain unlocked, valuables are left visible and lying about, we've no CCTV and I rarely set the alarm. But part of me refuses to live in a fortress. Part of the philosophy we have here is engaging with people; trusting them. I loathe going to businesses where every offered note is dramatically scrutinised in case I am attempting to cheat them. If I need to check notes I do it discreetly. I hate feeling like a criminal.

So I try to make my pub homely. I don't want to turn it into a New York liquor store. I leave things out because I believe my customers are good people. If you treat people badly they will behave badly. Here there is a carefully crafted culture of trust. I have it. My staff have it. My customers have it.

But yesterday there was an incident. Yesterday a man tried to steal my laptop. It was left on charge in the bar.

When I returned from my cup of tea I noticed my laptop wasn't where I left it. The staff member knew it was there and knew who had been near it. Indeed only moments later customers found it, wrapped in newspapers to conceal it, on a table outside. The villain was still on the scene.

What happened next was curiously English. We, that is me, my staff and some customers, challenged the man who had done this. "What are you doing with that?", "Did you ask the landlord's permission?" (yeah, strange one that). Voices were scarcely raised. There was no liklihood of violence. It felt surreal and, ermm, very English. The man left with, at best, a flea in his ear.

It leaves me in a dilemma. Do I continue to display a cavalier attitude to security in order to encourage people to connect with this place or do I introduce a lock-down? Fortress Railway.

I admit I am loathe to do the latter but I do recognise our attitude leaves us vulnerable. We are exposed to risk. But I always try to look to the good in people.

I do hope no villains are reading this...