There should be no problem coping with pubs. After all, it's a simple idea: they're where we go to make life slow down, to get our daily hit of some chemicals that may very well eventually make it stop. "Life's too short," people often say. I'm sure it feels like it, when you're staring death in the face in heart disease-ridden late middle age; when you're regretting all the pints and bacon sandwiches that have clogged your system and made irreplaceable parts of your innards founder. But, even if it is, the evenings, almost anyone must surely admit, are too long. Pubs solve that. They make time go away, without having to watch EastEnders.
This is nothing to be proud of, but it is necessary. That's why pubs were built in such a functional way: counters to buy the booze over and floors that you can easily clean sick off. It was never a trendy thing: there's no reason to be smug that you're there. You're not "hanging out" or "being seen". You get in, nail a pint every half an hour and leave when they chuck you out. Lovely. This is a place that helps you cope, not one you have to cope with.
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