I love a flat-roofed pub. Harking back to the sights and memories of my childhood. The post-war modern streets and estates were and are a truly beautiful and unpretentious thing. A 60s house in an Edwardian street is like a blinding light piercing the grey. The pubs built around the same time, make me want to cry with an enormous sense of well-being and sadness in equal measure. The sadness is the unstoppable loss of these venerated institutions, a class dismissed as a blot on the modern landscape. The well-being is the tenacity of the remaining pubs, to cling on to the life that fed them when times were good and to reach for the life that will once more, surely feed them in the future. You won’t know what you lost until it is gone.
The rapid closure of Manchester’s postwar estate pubs – once seen as a vital part of the community – is leaving neighbourhoods without a social anchor