Jim Taylor

Can someone please explain why folk are trying to save The Golden Harp pub in Furze Platt.

Last week the redbrick monstrosity of a building was plastered with more posters protesting about plans to turn it into another Tesco.

And at the weekend campaigners were taking to the streets to protest.

Now I can be passionate about local campaigns, such as preserving the greenbelt or stopping Furze Platt School from being replaced with hundreds of houses.

But why anybody is bothered about this boarded-up boozer, beats me? As the crow flies, it is probably the nearest to my home – but I’d never want it as my local.

It looks ugly on the outside – with its concrete road-side garden – and was really grotty the few times I ventured inside.

Cold, miserable and unfriendly are three adjectives which would immediately spring to mind if I was penning a Trip-Adviser review.

But there is a petition with over 500 names and a facebook page aimed at Saving The Harp.

Surely, if it was that good, and they’d all been real regulars, then Enterprise Inns would not have closed it down – twice – last year?

The thing is, scores of pubs across the country are calling time every week – largely because their former regulars now prefer drinking cheap supermarket booze at home.

Which makes the fact that the campaigners are really upset about the pub becoming a local Tesco (a supermarket with a booze license) a tad ironic.

But then, there you have another of those hypocritical home-truths.

Everyone says they hate the super-successful supermarket chain because it is so powerful – but you can bet millions of them still keep popping in for their weekly shops.

The Golden Harp apparently dates back to 1889 – although that could just have been the sell-by date on the crisps and nuts – and sits on the corner of what is quaintly called the Furze Platt Conservation Triangle.

But, to me, there’s no way this boozer merits preservation. In fact, it’s a shame it’s not sitting on the edge of the Bermuda Triangle. Then it could simply sink without trace one dark and snowy night.