When I look back on my formative years and my introduction to pub drinking, it is not the quality of the ale or the seemingly random availability of good Guinness that I fondly compare with today.  Nor is it the memories of local pubs with pot-bellied landlords and apron clad landladies that, immediately strikes my nostalgia button.  It is the cast iron, handed down tradition of “paying yer way”.  Before I had even set foot in a pub I can remember hearing my Dad and his drinking pals talking about men they knew from their local, saying things like

“He’s never done a days work in his life but he always stands his round” or

“He did get out of National Service but he is always first to that bar”.  It became ingrained in my soul as if it were the only sure way to heaven.

Later when I started to visit pubs with my older brothers and their friends I would stand amazed, as fights would almost break out between them, fivers were thrust forward to the cry

 “I’ll get these”

I remember once having just enough money on me to buy myself a couple of pints as I was passing by my brother’s local.  He went mad, I received the severest of reprimands off him for not adhering to family tradition.  In fact he still mentions it today and that was twenty-four years ago.  The idea of women buying rounds was non-existent and even to this day I feel awkward when a lady opens up the bag, produces the purse and pays for the beer, even though she probably earns more than I do and can drink me under the table.  Mind you they still seem to have a problem fetching it from the bar.

Now it seems the sad and yet acceptable case is that when you ask somebody if they want a pint, instead of

 “No I’ll get these” we are too often responded to with,

 “Yes but I can’t buy you one back” or my favourite which is,

 “It’s up to you, I haven’t got any money”.  I often wonder as I walk up to the bar to buy his drink if anybody has ever said,

 “Oh right, I’ll not get you one then”.