Noise complaints force city pub to close doors

Local pub closes due to noise complaints from neighbours in another blow to the community.

Monday 5th July 2010

Disappointment comes suddenly to those who don't expect it. As the late July twilight filtered, soft and heady through the vines of Wisteria and dreams of my youth, it winked happily over the swan-necked decanter on the white wicker table. Pass the Chantilly on the left hand side, I thought. I helped myself to a touch more Courvoisier, and tossed poor Septimus a salted mackerel. He dribbled on it clumsily, and I slapped him hard in the teeth. Then, I took to the broadsheets I love so much.

There is nothing more calming for the waters of gentlefolk than to settle down to the papers on a hot night in England. I find it both relaxing and informative. On this occasion, however, I was not to be kept at my ease for long. An interesting snippet caught my eye, and I yelped at the pain. I studied the article for a few seconds longer.

"Septimus!" I yelled, suddenly rabid with excitement.

He looked up lazily, and received a lunging kick to the belly.

"Septimus, up!"

The information had grabbed me in such a way that I thrust the paper hard into the air. The article concerned the fate of an ale-house on Sussex Street, deep in the heart of Norwich. I had heard of the place, once on a moonbeam, and thought it a fine city. The ale-house in question was up for sale, with accommodation, for around £120,000. It would be auctioned on the 20th of July. Being a man of parts and sums, I can sniff a good deal when it shivers by my nose.

"Septimus, can you scratch at a hedgehog and not get spiked?" I asked. "I believe we may finally be off the streets for good. We are to become publicans!"

I had a vision - beer, brawling and gutter-mouth language! Back-alley romping and pork-pie hats! Dancing and live music - oh, Lady Music!

Yet as suddenly as they had arrived, my hopes were dispelled. I read further, to a quote from one Mr. Adam Soall, who had run the Punch Tavern for eight months or so:

“Neighbours are always moaning about something, even people smoking outside the pub! I have never taken the mickey with the music, but we still get complaints. I know the pub is up for sale as a freehouse. but I can't see it re-opening as a pub. Whoever buys it'll be in for a shock, because the neighbours have really forced us out".

Such matters ran roughshod upon my dreams of our future. Such injustice makes my tummy hurt. If the pub was there first, how could it be blamed for exhibiting what can only be thought of as decent and proper pub practice? A final entry soothed the blow.

"There's a closing down party on the 3rd, Septimus", I said sadly. "I suppose we'll grab as much free pineapple as we can and just hope you don't get seen. Now rub my feet a little, if you would. I'm feeling slightly weary".