British people can be oddly reluctant to share pub tables. Maybe it’s time to get over that and get better at asking “Are these seats free?”
There are all sorts of reasons for our collective reticence. What if you’re intruding on someone else’s privacy or peace by sitting at their table? Or what if they end up intruding on your privacy or peace by being ‘chatty’ or weird?
In general, we’re also a nation that likes our personal space. You might have noticed on the London Underground how, even when it’s crowded, people very rarely actually make physical contact with each other. It’s a national superpower.
In our recent write-up of Saint Mars of the Desert (SMOD) in Sheffield we mentioned the sign on a long beer garden style table that specified it was for sharing. We liked this because it overcame one immediate objection: what if they think I’m weird or rude for even asking?
In that situation, not only are you not being weird or rude – you’re following the rules, and doing as you’ve been told. It would be more awkward not to share the table.
We wouldn’t mind if more pubs had signs like this, or if more publicans helped people find spaces to sit by asking the regulars to budge up and/or move their carrier bag full of taxidermy pigeons, or whatever it might be.
Every now and then someone will just ask us if they can share our table and, honestly, we’re always delighted. Not least because if we’re taking up two seats at a table for four or more people, we feel guilty.
Sometimes, however, our cheery “Of course, no problem!” backfires. At our local taproom, Lost & Grounded, a couple of years ago a nice young couple asked the question and only after we’d waved them in did they summon about twelve friends from afar. We ended up being crowded off our own table.
So, now, we sometimes ask, suspiciously: “Well, it depends – how many are you?”
On a more recent pub trip, we ended up sharing the table with two incredibly tall, very boring middle-aged men whose day jobs we assume must be around wind tunnels or jet engines because THEY SHOUTED THE ENTIRE TIME. We gave up on our own conversation after a while and just listened as they bellowed about their mortgages and sound bars and decking.
It would be easy to focus on these bad experiences, though, and overlook how often sharing a pub table is either just perfectly fine or even positively delightful.
For example, at The Swan With Two Necks, we’ve occasionally been lucky enough to be joined by a young couple who like to play cards while their excellent baby giggles and waves at us.
In strange towns, it can often be a great way to get the gossip, get advice, and learn things you won’t read on the official Visit Anytown dot com website.
From time to time, we try taking active steps to let people know we don’t mind if they sit with us, or near us. The offer is usually gratefully received, except when people look terrified and run away. They don’t want to share, we suppose; they want a space of their own.
The absolute worst approach is to stand around near some vacant seats huffing and puffing and making vague passive-aggressive complaints to nobody in particular: “Well, there would be somewhere to sit if two people weren’t taking up entire tables to themselves, harrumph!”
The other day, inspired by the little sign at SMOD, we briefly considered getting our own sign made to carry around with us: “We don’t mind sharing our table.”
It would either solve the problem completely or, alternatively, ensure nobody ever wants to share our table again.
















