Life behind a bar is not a sinecure, it's a sentence

If I have heard it once, I have heard it a thousand times. "I'd love to retire and get a nice little pub somewhere," they say, in the genuine belief that life as an innkeeper is some sort of idyllic gathering of friends and family with drinkie-poos thrown in.

The reality is quite different. Not that they would believe me, though, especially if I asserted that innkeeping can be quite isolating - not lonely, because we are always meeting people, even if they are only delivery men, sales people, staff and customers.

Oh yes, we do meet people, but the main difference between us and "normal" people is that they have a social life which is quite separate from their place of work, whereas ours is part and parcel of the same thing.

Very few tenants and leaseholders, for instance, can afford the luxury of one day off a week these days, let alone the two that are taken for granted by "normal" people. And when we do take a day off, it usually has to be combined with a trip to the cash and carry.

Even when that special occasion arises and we sneak out for an intimate dinner à deux, it isn't long before one of us breaks the magic by observing how many staff they have in relation to the number of customers. Counting heads and working out other people's profit margins is an occupational habit which, once acquired, is difficult to break.

Never mind, though, there are always long-standing friends and family to act as a much-needed lifeline.

Friends and family - I remember them. They are the people who, when I first came into the licensed trade, flocked around and were happy to sit at the bar and soak up the new experience. But, after a while, the novelty wore off. It wasn't a sudden departure, or in any way acrimonious, so much as a combination of inconveniences.

Initially, they didn't seem to mind going out for a meal with us on a Monday or a Tuesday night, although they did point out that Friday or Saturday was their preferred choice. So meals out were gradually replaced by promises to pop in for a drink and a natter.

Sadly, one by one, they drifted away and relationships diminished. We still get Christmas cards from them, but it serves to point out that many innkeepers, especially leaseholders, are isolated in a sea of mere acquaintances.

This isolation, coupled with a lack of available spare time, has a sort of lateral effect on our professional judgement in that we are apt to rely too heavily on the media and trade press to keep abreast of what is happening in our industry when we really should be thinking for ourselves.

It really is unwise to believe all that we see and hear in the media. Nothing new in that, true enough, but it is a philosophy to which existing licensees (to some extent) and aspiring licensees (to a large extent) should pay heed.

Why so? Well, for a start, it is wise to remember that this industry of ours is dominated by a handful of industrial giants which have the commercial clout to dominate the media. Having achieved such a powerful position, they are hardly likely to squander it by painting the true picture of an industry where on-trade sales are in free fall, breweries are being closed down, pubs are being boarded up and licensees are going bankrupt.

Read the papers and an altogether different story emerges. Reports of record profits abound, billion-pound mergers are commonplace, individual hostelries and licensees, when featured, are always hugely successful, and the industry has never been in such a strong position.

They would even have us believe that the "tied" system is not only deeply traditional but is also the champion of wider choice, and that this is the only reason why they fought to persuade the European Parliament to allow it to remain. What a load of twaddle!

But maybe there is light at the end of the tunnel. Only the other day, while consulting the oracle (Phil the barber, that is), I was introduced to a fellow licensee. He was a tired-looking chap, a leaseholder tied to a major brewery, and had, over the past few years, been "very nearly crucified" by the conditions of his lease.

He had had enough, he said, and went on to add: "With overheads like that, I could pay the mortgage on a handsome free house, employ some really good staff, take some time off and holidays, still make a decent profit and have something realistic to sell at the end of the day. I could even get myself a life!"

If there are many more just like him, maybe the future will see a proliferation of free houses.

David Best is publican of the Bushell's Arms in Preston, Lancashire