Grand old Duke of York marches on, making Sai Kung history

^{Alan who manages to look like John Lennon in a typical T-shirt. Anna is second from left. Other people are Vicky Hamilton, before she moved to the UK, and Bowie, man about town who may be Sai Kung’s best sign painter}

The major sufferers in the pandemic among Sai Kung bar owners are Anna and Alan of the Duke of York. When a Buzz team member met Anna in the street last month she seemed distraught, teary. The Duke had been closed since early December and their expletive landlord (our description, not hers) would not give them rent relief. Now the couple have reopened the pub.

BUZZ suggests all residents who like to quaff a beer or a glass of wine go into the DoY as soon as they can and as often as they can to support Anna and Allen, financially and emotionally. We will, too. Nice couple, cheery to customers.

Government restrictions because of the virus crisis hit Anna and Allen harder than any other bar owners. Theirs is an entirely family-run business. A comparable pub, Poets, has at least three co-owners with good businesses backing Rose, the licensee. One said that while closed Poets was losing about $90,000 a month. Now, with a light refreshment licence Poets has re-opened too. The Duke of York’s losses per month would have been about the same.

^{Local characters you might be lucky enough to meet in the DoY. Sai Kung’s pub since 1988 the Duke survives despite the pundits’ worst predictions. The South China Morning Post declared it dead seven years ago.}

When my family moved to Sai Kung 22 years ago the Duke could claim to be one of the finest pubs on the south China coast. It was bigger then, two units, with a pool table that was always busy and a rollicking atmosphere plus many characters, some of whom we have since lost: Mike, Reg, Ulf, Isabella, Russell, Sandy and many others whose names don’t come to mind now. Great times were common in the DoY as the millennium turned. When England was about the play a big soccer match, Mike Wilkinson had jingoistic music blaring, the place was packed, and the crowd was singing uproariously.

Then there was the day, a clown revved up his boy racer car on Fuk Man Road down by the waterfront. He roared it along the road toward the DoY hitting impressive speed in just a couple of hundred yards. Near the Duke, he let the car’s left wheels go up the angled garden wall. The car flipped. Onto its roof. The DoY’s loyal drinkers rushed out onto the footpath, yelling, “Encore! Encore!”

Smaller now because of gouging landlords, the Duke remains an attractive place full of Sai Kung history and run by a most engaging couple. Go along to support, Anna and Alan. See old friends and make new ones.