Pubs are expensive to run, especially the old ones with wonky beams and a chimney that smokes up the bar artistically. Energy bills are wild, and fewer people are spending their evenings nursing a pint and a packet of crisps.
But the Red Lion isn’t just any pub. It’s the kind of place where locals argue about the best way to pour a Guinness—and then do it for you for free. It’s got history baked into the walls, probably literally, if you count the nicotine stains from the 1970s.
Greene King bought it years ago, probably thinking, “Hey, old pub = easy money.” But old pubs are like old cars: they’re gorgeous, but everything leaks, and the heating system groans like a haunted mummy.
What does this mean for the punters?
If the Red Lion closes, it’s not just a building gone. It’s the end of a place where you could mourn a breakup over a whisky or celebrate a promotion with a round that burns a hole in your wallet. Where else will you find a landlord who remembers your order from 2016?
I’m not exaggerating when I say this pub has soul. The kind of soul that makes you feel like a regular even on your first visit. The kind where the jukebox has exactly one Fleetwood Mac song, and everyone sings along, badly.
Major UK pub chain considering sale of 150 pubs in shake-up
Greene King says they’re “committed to the community,” but let’s be honest—that’s the corporate version of “it’s not you, it’s me.” They’re probably eyeing the real estate, thinking about flats or a coffee shop that sells £5 oat lattes. Sacrilege.
