Mark Hix: This is why I’ve had to close my pub - again

There couldn’t really have been a worse moment to open a pub. It was December 2020 and I’d just opened the Fox Inn in Corscombe, Dorset. It was to be a proper pub that happened to have great food, a local where you could come in for a pint and stay for the aged sirloin and chips being served in the dining room. 

Just three weeks after we opened, another lockdown was called. We had to shut down for three months; all the staff were brand new, so we didn’t qualify for furlough. It was a crushing blow and I wasn’t sure that we’d survive it. I’ve been through worse though, I thought, optimistic that we’d get ourselves up and running once things were back to normal.

Of course, “normal” it never was. We stuttered on through that year, through the ever-changing regulations, trying to serve the local community and get some momentum going with the business. But since then, the blows have kept coming. 

We’ve battled staff shortages, rising costs and the harsh reality that customers have fundamentally changed the way they go out to eat and drink. It’s why this week I made the tough decision to close the Fox for good. Our final day of service was Saturday, July 17. 

It’s always sad to lose a restaurant. I’ve been in this business for 40 years now and it never gets easier. You put your heart and soul, your blood, sweat and tears into these businesses, not to mention money. I’ve been through this before, but I must admit this one stings. 

About 20 miles inland from Lyme Regis, on the edge of a small but thriving village, the Fox, with its thatched roof and buttermilk stone walls, was exactly the kind of place I’d always wanted to run. 

So many brilliant old boozers get turned into gastro pubs these days; some of them are good, but they inevitably end up feeling like a restaurant with a bar, pushing out the regulars who might just want to come in a couple of nights a week for a drink or two. 

I wanted the regulars to stay, wanted to give them a nice spot to drink local ales and English wines, talk, read the paper, maybe have a plate of pork crackling (only a slight upgrade on the traditional bag of scratchings). 

The small dining room and garden would feed a few diners too, with locally sourced, seasonal food – oysters, sugar pit bacon ribs with cockles, proper chopped steak with green peppercorn sauce. All the ingredients were there; we were just getting started. 

It wasn’t one thing that finished us off in the end, it was a build up of lots of things. Rising running costs haven’t helped matters, though we were in the lucky position at the Fox (as we are at my other restaurant, the Oyster and Fish House in Lyme Regis) of being able to source our ingredients locally so we don’t have to rely much on transport or navigate importing issues. But the price of energy and the soaring cost of some ingredients are hard to shoulder. 

It’s staffing that has probably been the biggest problem though. I was already struggling with it, but it got to the point where I didn’t have enough chefs so I’ve been cooking in the kitchen for the last few weeks, doing double shifts and serving at the bar. 

Worryingly, I’m not sure the appetite is there among young people now to work in hospitality. Everyone had so much time off and got paid for it through furlough that I wonder if this kind of job just isn’t for a lot of people anymore. 

It can be a brutal industry and the hours are long, but it’s a brilliant one too and it seems a shame that youngsters don’t seem to want to do it. “I’m nearly 60”, I think, as I hear them complain about tiring shifts. “I’m sweating it out in the kitchen and pulling pints.” 

It’s the customer that suffers, ultimately, when the staffing isn’t there. You can’t open as often, and the service inevitably falters if there aren’t enough people to work a shift. It’s not just happening to us, it’s a problem all over the country – all over the world, in fact. Friends in New York say the same; the people just aren’t there anymore. 

The same goes for the drinkers and diners. Over the course of all the various lockdowns, a lot of people changed their going out routine. Even now, people are eating out less, spending their money differently. 

I’m lucky that the Fish House, my other restaurant in Lyme Regis, is still going from strength to strength thanks in part to the flock of tourists that head to that bit of the coast throughout the year. I’ve had a new terrace built at the Fish overlooking the sea and plan to move some staff over there so that we can really bolster the business. 

Previously, I didn't have enough staff to open seven days a week, and there's definitely an appetite for a seven-day operation among the customers. It’s great to see the Fish flourishing, but I can’t help feeling it’s a shame not to be able to sustain a great local pub in an English village in 2022. 

I know all too well how much worse this could be. I lost my London restaurants in 2020, when my business partner’s senior board put us into administration. One phone call and that was it – the restaurants I’d worked hard to build over 12 years were gone in a flash. 

Suddenly there was no cash coming through and 130 members of staff lost their jobs in the midst of a pandemic. 

It was gut wrenching at the time; I retreated to Dorset and tried to fathom what to do next. I was very lucky to get the Fish House back from the administrators in June 2020 for a good price, which enabled me to set myself up again. Meanwhile, the Fox kept stumbling on.

I thought I’d got myself back on track, but after the experience in London, I couldn't watch the Fox just plod on until it collapsed. The first year we were open, I lost £90k thanks to the pandemic. I can't risk losing more. Instead, I want to pool our resources and funnel them into the Fish House. 

It’s the right call, but I’m sad to say goodbye to the Fox. It’s just a pub, but you put an awful lot into creating these places. It’s not just the food and drinks – I do all the interiors too. 

I did everything myself at the Fox as I did in my London restaurants. All those little things like choosing the glassware and the art; they all make a difference and I love every part of the process. 

Running restaurants isn’t what it used to be. I think if I were starting out now I’d be nervous about opening somewhere in this climate. But this is my life – has been for over 40 years, and when everything is working as it should, it’s the best job there is.

So I might be saying goodbye to the Fox, but I’m going to do everything I can to make sure the Fish House continues to thrive.

As told to Eleanor Steafel