Last night we said goodbye to The Leinster.

Although it was never the cosiest of pubs, rarely sold very good beer, and was often empty of an afternoon, the fact that Thomas worked there as part of a very friendly staff made this place the closest thing I had to a local after leaving Elgin Avenue. Even before that, it saw us through many an England international, Premiership fixture and Six Nations match.

Now someone high up at the multi-national conglomerate which seems to own most of west London's pubs has decided it would be fun to switch the Leinster with local gay haunt The Champion.

So the Champ moves lock, stock and barrels from its high street location to the quiet back street spot formerly occupied by the Leinster, hoping to take its regulars with it, while the Leinster moves out onto Notting Hill Gate, with its valuable traffic of local passers-by and tourists.

Strategically, this switch is undoubtedly born of good business sense. But in reality, they're splitting up the team who were starting to make the Leinster work.

Gary, the manager, is a hotshot troubleshooter who'll doubtless be parachuted into another ailing alehouse. John, the number two, is having something of a turbulent time personally, and will probably drift away now this anchor has been removed. Liz, the cute Australian barmaid, is seemingly taking advantage of the change to move on. Our kid's off to Norway to shoot a docu-drama on an ice flow while the various refits are done.

And the locals? They'll probably just find somewhere else to drink for the month or so that the Leinster's out of operation. But will they ever come back?

I can't help but feel, no, know that a truly good, cherishable pub is something organic, which has the ability to grow, evolve and develop a personality. It's got to get dirty, get itself a history.

So many new places like All Bar One and Wetherspoons lack any kind of character, because the proprietors have attempted to create the finished article. That's never going to work. I fear the same fate will befall Leinster 2.0.

So last night we toasted the people of the pub, trying (but failing) to drink the place dry, flying in the face of all known licensing laws.

And as the doors of the Leinster closed for one last time, just after half past twelve, so the doors also closed on another little piece of this island's glorious drinking history.