Two decades of change at Gardener’s Arms

Paul Silcock of the Gardener’s Arms, Plantation Road, Oxford looks back

As I write this I am rapidly approaching an anniversary as a publican, and I’m reminded of a quote by the late American comedian Bill Hicks: “I’ve been doing this for 10 years, so bear with me while I plaster on a fake smile and plow through this shit one more time.” And he’d only been doing his shit for ten years.

I’ll have been at this for 20 years come New Year’s Eve 2023. Sometimes I know exactly what he meant, and I’ll defy any publican in the country not to identify with Bill Hicks’ sentiment. Not every day, but once in a while. Every now and then we’d all much rather be on the other side of the bar having a few drinks instead of pouring them.

Now this isn’t going to be a grumble column. I mean, who’d stick a job for 20 years that they hated? No, it’s a good job, particularly as it doesn’t have very many early mornings. I came from IT to running a pub, partly for a change, but mainly because I was rubbish at IT and my days in the office were certainly numbered. Feeling it couldn’t be long before I was handed my P45, I eagerly agreed to help a mate out and look after his pub (now my pub) for a couple of months while he went on to do other things. That was almost 20 years ago. 

So, big question, because I’ve got a lot of column to fill here… what are the big changes over the last twenty years?

IPAs Are Here To Stay (until they aren’t)

Okay, so that’s slightly misleading as a starting point. After all, IPAs have been around for almost as long as the idea of putting hops in beer has, nearly. But at some point in the last 20 years IPAs went from just one style of beer amongst many, to the dominating form of brewing. So dominant in fact the name IPA has practically surpassed the name Bitter in terms of what we reluctantly do have to call “brand recognition”. And it comes from the rather annoying fact that our American cousins took an idea, decided to misunderstand it, and then had the temerity to sell it back to us. Even more annoyingly, they seemed to have made it, if not better, at least more popular. Which might actually be better than making it better, from a capitalist standpoint anyway.

Then Brewdog saw what the Americans had done, joined the party, exploded, and IPA couldn’t have become more popular if it actually did make you richer and more sexy. But IPA at this level of popularity can’t last, as every generation rightly rebels against the trends of the previous generation. Want proof? See the increasing swing back to smoking in teenagers as they swerve away from the vaping habits of their parents. Even now, I see customers asking which beers on my bar are dark, or what’s the least hoppy if they understand flavours a little better. Which neatly leads me to the next change.

Best Bitters Are Dead (’til they rise again)

A few years back a Marston’s rep, who shall remain nameless (mainly because I have forgotten his name), revealed they were rebranding their best bitters. Market research had found that young people (those swine!) equated Best Bitter with flat cap wearing, pipe smoking old men in working men’s clubs, so they were rebranding in order to attract the younger market. They didn’t so much rebrand, as give the beers names that wouldn’t have sounded out of place in a cheap superhero movie.

Ringwood’s Best Bitter became Razor Back! (I added the exclamation mark, but you can easily imagine the marketing meetings where the inclusion of an exclamation mark was hotly debated). Jennings Bitter became Night Vision. Marston’s Best became Saddle Tank (okay, so that would be a pretty rubbish superhero name). Marston’s weren’t the only fools to fall for this trick. Think about how rarely you saw the once ubiquitous Best Bitter. But now the word Best is creeping back on to pump clips. Breweries seem to have run out of naff superhero names, possibly because they have realised they just can’t keep up with the ever more ludicrous names coming from the craft brewing quarter.

Brewing Became Craft!

See how neatly I lead into that one? Seriously though I swear no-one, anywhere, used the term “craft brewing” 20 years ago. Here is what the Oxford English Dictionary has to say about Craft — craft, n. An occupation or profession requiring technical skill and know-how, esp. one which involves using the hands; a manual art or trade. 

Nowhere in that sentence does it say anything about fermentation vessels. Are we to believe that craft beer is created by individuals holding small handfuls of wort until it ferments into beer? No, because I’m being facetious. As a verb the OED says this about craft — To make or devise (something) with skill, expertise, or ingenuity. 

That’s fair. But it does kind of suggest that beer prior to the craft brewing craze was just chucked together by barely skilled pit workers, and you were lucky if they didn’t drool into the vats while they did it. 

New Year’s Eves Are Not Packed Out

Paul prepares for customers on the day pubs re-opened after the first lockdown

There was a point years ago when New Year’s Eves were so popular, even your local pub had to start selling tickets because everyone seemed to want a seat at a pub table for New Year and pubs were standing room only. Then suddenly they weren’t. There are still pubs which do get packed out for New Year, but a lot really don’t anymore. However, people still think they do all get packed out. Which is why they don’t get packed out. Follow the logic there? Because so many people think the local pub will be so full with carousing New Year revellers that they’ll never get a seat, they stay away. Therefore they don’t see how wrong their assumption is.

But that doesn’t matter, because they had a good time at a house party, or with friends, or doing just about anything else and telling themselves how much more pleasant this is than being cramped in a corner of a pub getting elbowed by people trying to fight their way to the bar to make sure they’ve got a drink to toast in the New Year. This belief keeps persisting because no-one is going to the pub to discover that actually, it’s pretty empty at their local. 

If you do want a tip for a good New Year this year, I’ll be celebrating the actual 20th anniversary of running the Gardener’s Arms in Plantation Road, Oxford. My first ever shift as manager of the Gardener’s was New Year’s Eve 2003. You’re more than welcome to come along to what will be a very full pub.

Beer Prices Will Always Rise (Always)

Not that this is any surprise to anyone reading this. Really I’m just putting this last point in here as a neat way of tidying up the end of this article. But just to illustrate this point, the cheapest beer on the bar back on December 31, 2003, when I started here, was £2.60 for Tanners Jack, a Greene King seasonal. The cheapest pint on the bar this New Year will be £5.20. That is literally double the price. You know your wages haven’t doubled in that time. In slightly better news, though, beer prices have been rising more slowly than, say, chocolate. So that’s a win. 

What hasn’t changed though is the nature of the job. It’s still about beer, and also more than beer. It’s about creating a place with atmosphere, a place that can offer a chance to socialise. Or relax. See bands or watch sports. Eat. Drink. Be merry. Publicans are going to be one of the last jobs that AI is going to be able to replace, so there’s a good chance I’ll be writing a follow-up piece in another 20 years’ time. Or a chatbot will and I’ll just sign my name to it. After all, you do have to roll with the changes. Sometimes.