Staggering in the Dark

A great friend of ours, Phil Smith - multi-instrumentalist musician and producer - recently released an arresting documentary for the BBC Radio 3 series, Between The Ears. 

This documentary is an audio collage presenting a beautiful night we hold annually at our tiny Brighton brewpub, The Hand in Hand. A night where the community gets together to remember friends and family that have left us. A night of celebration and of shared grief.

This melancholic, magical night began in 2017 as a fundraiser for treatment for two close friends - Sid, my oldest and closest friend, and Poppy, a friend and crew member of the Hand. Both tragically died far too young leaving dents, scars and gaping holes in their families and in the community. Both were firmly in the ‘why is it always the good ones that are taken so young’ camp. 

Our incredible community came together and created and contributed to the first candle-lit, spoken word, piano and string event, which we named Staggering in the Dark (SID). We’ve continued every year since on the last Thursday of August to remember Sid and Poppy, and sadly but inevitably, more friends, family members and colleagues. 

Poems, limericks, readings, songs, stories, jokes and memories. Sometimes accompanied by music, sometimes just music. Always received in respectful silence, but somehow still a lively affair. Nervousness fills the air for those that speak and for those that listen. Tears follow.

To me and my wife, Jen, this work by Phil is so profound. An ethereal time capsule capturing our friends and regulars sharing their thoughts and bravely exposing their vulnerabilities. Delicate and sophisticated sonic devices like the backdrop of waves coming in and out, representing (to me at least) the tide of time; the comings and goings. The seagulls squawk at each other in the background, living their lives without a clue. Life goes on out there. 

It really is wonderful and I’m so proud of Jen and her team who have created a place where this kind of night is not just acceptable, but sought after and delivered. Although this is only one night of the year, it sets the tone for what our pubs are like for people. There’s always something interesting going on, and it’s usually meaningful in some way. 

We share these small spaces with strangers. We share them with friends. We make new friends, sometimes lovers, sometimes future spouses. Sometimes - especially in a city like Brighton - these relationships are fleeting. People move into the area for study, or for work, then move on. Some people (like me), move to Brighton as a spur-of-the-moment thing and never leave. I’ve been here for 24 years now, and on this corner of Kemptown for nearly 10. 

The young people stand at the bar and huddle in corners, bringing fresh life into our 200 year old corner boozer, as the older regulars keep hold of the best seats. Then, over the years, those young people become the old regulars in the best seats overhearing the new young people. There’s a beauty to it. It’s life and it’s death.

The tide comes in and goes out again. 

We lose our friends. They leave us through illness, accident and occasionally by their own means. We always say it was too soon. And we remember them fondly. Sometimes through plaques and photos on the walls. We donate to the charities that meant something to them, or that were associated with their departure. Sometimes we remember them with special nights, like Staggering in the Dark, and sometimes with commemorative beers.

We made a companion beer for Staggering in the Dark called SID, an Imperial Stout. A portion of the profits from pints sold at the bar went to a variety of charities. We also created a 10-month barrel-aged version and packaged it in bottles. We made a lager called Mark for our friend and Hand crewmate, Mark who left us a few years ago. 

Culturally, in Britain - certainly in the South-East where I’m from, maybe less so in the North, and with our Celtic cousins - we still endure a stunted emotional maturity with death and grief. We struggle to talk openly about it. 

Grief is both universal and individual. A sort of complementary paradox. Universal in that every living being will suffer it. And individual in that every living being will suffer it differently - in their own unique way. There is no right or wrong way. No real process. No straight line. And usually no end to it. Kübler-Ross (five stages of grief) posits that in the fifth stage - acceptance - you never really accept a loss, you only accept that you have lost and you have to live with it.

Clearly, in that case, the best thing to do is talk about it with each other.

With community pubs like the Hand and the Toad, where events like Staggering in the Dark take place, people don’t have to bottle it up or suffer alone. Given a space to share, people do share. They do it with pride, whether softly or loudly. Often helped along with a swig or a guzzle, the shields come down.

We drink when we arrive, we drink when we go. We drink in-between. Responsibly, obviously. Being part of the booze business, and seeing what good it can do, but also what harm it can do, I always look for the heart of why we do it. Places like the Hand, and nights like Staggering in the Dark are the heart of it for me.

This is how we want our pubs to be: friendly, safe places where everyone’s welcome. Be yourself. Express yourself. Come as a stranger, leave as a friend. We’re proudly part of the global network of these unique places. Hopefully there are meaningful places like ours for everyone - for you - in every village, town, city and country. 

Give the documentary a listen when you get a quiet 30 minutes (although, not when you’re driving, my sister says - it’s hard to drive with blurry eyes). 

Staggering in the Dark was released on 18 Feb 2024 and available on BBC’s iPlayer for a year. It was produced by Phil Smith. A Falling Tree Production for BBC Radio 3.