How feeding chickens helps a Fitzroy bar owner

When Fitzroy bar owner Anita Basile feels severe pangs for her currently shuttered tequila-and-taco hangout Little Hop, she pulls weeds from her backyard and heads to her children's primary school to feed the chickens.

"I stand there and the chooks gobble around me," she says. "It brings me such delight to serve someone that's not in my immediate family." She also collects the eggs and drops them on local doorsteps. "It's ingrained in me. I love that feeling of delivering a good product and a sense of community."

Basile knows that her 24-seat Brunswick Street bar plays an important role in the lives of her regulars. "Most of our customers come by themselves every day or two," she says. "I've been thinking a lot about them while we've been closed and worrying about how they're doing."

She believes the solace and safe space they find at Little Hop is unlikely to be replicated while social distancing restrictions are in place to combat the coronavirus.

"We offer no-strings-attached friendship," she says. "You can complain about your husband, kids, your financial situation and you don't have to live with that conversation, you can leave it behind you. It's a haven with camaraderie but no judgement, like a different, unconditional family that is always going to be around."

Basile's description maps onto the concept of the "third place", created by urban sociologist Ray Oldenburg. In his 1989 book The Great Good Place, Oldenburg proposes that shared social spaces are the third point of a triangle, after home (the first place) and work (the second place).

Third places "serve the human need for communion", provide "joy and relief" in the levelling of social uniforms and status" and offer important "neutral ground … in which all feel at home and comfortable". This "vigorous informal public life" is crucial for the health of a community and the individuals who form it.

The neutral ground allows connection without commitment. "Sometimes people sit in Little Hop quietly and they still have that comfort of being across from someone – they can talk if they want to," says Basile.

Now, with her "third place" closed, Basile is concerned about the customers missing that succour and support. "Who are they talking to or not talking to?" she says. "How are they venting?"

John Cope-Williams used to visit Little Hop four or five times a week. "It's like a second living room," he says. "You can sit by yourself, chat to people, listen to the music, do your own thing." Online chatting doesn't compare.

"Video platforms are all well and good but I miss tone and facial expressions," he says. "And on Zoom, you have to keep the conversation going, you can't just sit there. Real life is so much better. I feel like I've lost a limb."

Little Hop is such a sanctuary for one Fitzroy business owner that he doesn't want to use his real name. "Edward" goes there to escape. "I might be having a full-on day at work and go there for lunch, a shot of tequila, a beer and a taco," he says. "Or I'll go after work as a stepping stone between the office and my apartment, where I live alone. At the bar, I have my spot. Everyone knows what I drink."

It's a different experience from planned catch-ups with friends. "Sometimes I need to decompress without the burden of socialising with someone I've known for a long time," says Edward. "I don't always want to ask, 'How was your week?' or feel the judgment if I have another shot of tequila. I go to the bar to feel connected to people but removed from my other reality. It's a genuine rapport but it's almost anonymous too."

With "third places" still closed and home and work largely combined, there's a conflating of identity. "I've got all these hours in a day," says Edward. "I've done my work, I've gone for a run, I've spoken to three people on Zoom. I'm in my apartment by myself. Now what?"