Words & Photos - Matthew Curtis
I'm not sure when it happened, but at some point over the last twelve months my relationship with beer and more importantly, pubs, shifted ever so slightly. It used to be always about the beer, perhaps the seeking of a story and, most importantly, being with friends. The pub itself was simply a pinprick on a map that I'd relocate to in order to engage in the activity I'm the most fond of. I can always say I'm happy when I'm in the warm embrace of a pub, be it alone or with others and, being honest with myself, I find it hard to say that about a lot of other places. As I stopped constantly trying to find something new and comforting, the same two things instead found me. I began to realise that what made me so happy was being in the pub itself. It didn't matter if it was the sleek, curved underbelly of a railway arch or the soft, low lit, wooden interior of a Victorian terrace, just being there, in that moment filled me with utter contentment. I now long for the next moment I get to sit in the pub and talk for hours or simply watch the world go by. Right now, for me, nothing beats being in the pub.