Mastering The Lockdown Pubcrawl

The prospect of being locked in with my parents at the age of sixteen may have left me with an overwhelming-sense of dread, but at twenty-three (and now unemployed) I quite welcomed the idea. Approaching mid-twenties, you slowly realise that getting pissed with the rents is like going to the pub without the intoxicating sense of panic after looking at your bank statement the next day.

“getting pissed with the rents is like going to the pub without the intoxicating sense of panic after looking at your bank statement the next day”

Zoey Jeater

With no prospect for the near future and pub gardens out of the equation due to lockdown, I became content with there being absolutely no expectations of me, I could totally relax and focus on myself. Maybe I’ll learn a new language? Perhaps try and play a new instrument? That all took a backseat when I was abruptly reminded of our frequently replenished cupboard of alcohol; containing liquors that date back thirty years… seriously, if my parents hadn’t drunk them after that long surely it’s fair game? That alone became the starting point of our quest to have the ultimate lockdown pub crawl.

In the early days of lockdown our crawls, it followed a basic framework. We were naïve to think that there was an unlimited number of rooms where to stop for a pint or two. So, as each crawl ran its course, we became more experimental in our eagerness to go further than any crawl had ever gone before. One evening we even resorted to climbing up into our loft; quite the health hazard when you’re five G&Ts (and a couple of sherry shots) deep with a long road of alcohol ahead. With each crawl that took place, there was an anticipation that the next one would be even more daring than the last. The famous Come Dine With Me Quote, “Jane, you have all the grace and decorum of a reversing dump truck” eerily floated around my head as I found myself sitting in the cupboard under the stairs chugging a can of ale that had almost definitely expired in the year 2000.

It may be excessive, but it has become built into the structure of our week. It’s almost addictive. Believe it or not, last week we had defied the travel restrictions and landed in sunny Barbados! Trust me, with a whole lot of imagination and an entire bottle of rum, you could be absolutely anywhere.

On a more serious note, if you plan on sitting at the end of your garden making a lot of noise at 9pm, be sure to let your neighbours know or they may make the presumption that you’re smoking a joint; this came as quite a surprise when my dad was confronted outside the following day. Nonetheless, once they were on board they really loved to get involved. Our neighbour even offered to help recreate ‘The Cock’ pub… but on second thoughts, I think we’ll be ok thanks Ned!

If you really don’t believe me check them out on youtube:

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