Skip to main content

The kids are alright

Not a slow news week, is it? Still, the papers can't be wall to wall imminent end of the world (though one could argue that some outlets could probably do with a spot more of it) all the time can they? Need a little levity amongst the hydrocarbon-fuelled misery, which is presumably the reason that the Graun helped to fill its pages with this piece, a hoary old retread of a story as old as, well, since kids were allowed in pubs where "some" (a word which does an incredible amount of heavy lifting in the press) Landlords are banning children from their pubs.

It cites dreadful behaviour, disruption of trade, surly parents, I'm fairly sure I've read it a few times before (though this one does have the bonus story of a child disappearing down an open cellar hatch, which is kind of fun)

This is not, by any stretch of the imagination, news, there are many pubs which don't welcome children, a situation which was largely the norm until relatively recently. I well remember being left in a car and brought occasional lemonade and crisps outside of pubs in the 1980s. So it's not a piece I take seriously, it's just a bit of filler. On a recent trip to Bristol I walked past one pub, the Bag o Nails, which, from the list of proscriptions on its window only appears to allow the pub cats. Landlords saying nah to groups they don't want in is nothing new.

But it did get me thinking about my own attitude to kids in the pub. It goes without saying that we're child friendly here, it's a food-led, family pub. I'd be in a heap of trouble if I banned kids, not that I wish to, I've got three of the buggers myself, overall, I'm pro.

The article, though it contains tropes which any landlord will recognise, and to be brutally honest, most of the complaints are, as far as I can make out, a skill issue.

Because of course the main complaint about kids in pubs isn't the kids at all, it's the parents or, more precisely, the landlord's failure to deal with the parents.

Parents being lax and letting their kids run around is something which anyone who's been in the business for long enough should price in. I should stress at this juncture that the vast majority of kids that we get through the door are perfectly well behaved, I rarely have to intervene but, crucially, when I have to, I do.

People don't like doing this, and I understand why, the sort of parent that's inclined to let the kids run wild is normally also the sort of parent who doesn't like being told what to do, and bellugerence is often the outcome. But as with aggressive drunks, and lecherous old men trying to chat up the staff, it's not behaviour I'm inclined to tolerate. Indeed, had I been the landlord of the pub where a child disappeared down a cellar hatch, I'd be inclinednto tell them that should all treat it as a learning experience.

I'm not sure at what point over the last thirty years or so that it became an impossibility to tell people when their behaviour is out of line, but, without wishing to get all Daily Telegraph about it, it strikes me as being unfair to all parties. It's unfair to those impacted by the behaviour of unruly children, unfair to the children themselves, who possibly don't have a scooby that they're being a massive pain in the arse and may come aand, perhaps I'm stretching a point here, unfair on the parents, who've clearly gone through life blissfully unaware that their behaviour is that of an entitled arsehole.

Boundaries, clear and enforced, do everyone a favour.

My view of a public house is that it should be welcoming to all, and I try to reflect that in our pricing and what we offer. It is furthermore my view that it is somewhere you should be able to relax, unwind, maybe have one more you told yourself you would, get a bit loud, have a good time.

But I also understand that I have to be welcoming to clientele for whom this is a bit much. Running a pub is a balancing act. I'm lucky in that, as a fairly sizeable building, I'm generally able to accomodate a range of vibes. But to my mind, letting your kids run wild is beyond the range of reasonable behaviour, so if necessary the ever-useful quiet word is deployed. But to the parents. The kids are alright.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

To all intents and purposes, a bloody great weed.

I absolutely love trees, and I get quite irate when they get cut down. One of the aspects of life with which I most often find myself most at odds with my fellow man is that I'm not really a fan of the tidy garden. I like to see a bit of biodiversity knocking about the gaff, and to that end I welcome the somewhat overgrown hedge, am pro the bit of lawn left to run riot, and, most of all, very anti cutting down trees. I love the things, habitat, provider of shade, easy on the eye, home to the songbirds that delight the ear at dawn, the best alarm clock of all. To me, cutting a naturally growing tree down is an act of errant vandalism, as well as monumental entitlement, it's been around longer than you. So, this being the case, let me say this. The public outcry over the felling of the tree at Sycamore Gap is sentimental, overblown nonsense, and the fact that the two men found guilty of it have been given a custodial sentence is completely insane. Prison? For cutting down a Sycam...

Inedible

"He says it's inedible" said my front of house manager, as she laid the half-eaten fish and chips in front of me, and instantly I relaxed.  Clearly, I observed, it was edible to some degree. I comped it, because I can't be arsed arguing the toss, and I want to make my front of house's lives as simple as possible. The haddock had been delivered that morning. The fryers had been cleaned that morning. The batter had been made that morning (and it's very good batter, ask me nicely and I'll give you the recipe some time). The fish and chips was identical to the other 27 portions I'd sent out on that lunch service, all of which had come back more or less hoovered up, we have have a (justified, if I do say so myself) very good reputation for our chips. But it was, apparently, "inedible". When it comes to complaints, less is more. If you use a hyperbolic word like that, I'll switch off, you've marked yourself as a rube, a chump, I'm not g...

Oh! Are you on the jabs?

I have never been a slender man. No one has ever looked at me and thought "oh, he needs feeding up". It's a good job for me that I was already in a relationship by the early noughties as I was never going to carry off the wasted rock star in skinny jeans look. No one has ever mistaken me for Noel Fielding. This is not to say that I'm entirely a corpulent mess. I have, at various times in my life, been in pretty good shape, but it takes a lot of hard work, and a lot of vigilance, particularly in my line of work, where temptation is never far away. Also, I reason, I have only one life to live, so have the cheese, ffs. I have often wondered what it would be like to be effortlessly in good nick, to not have to stop and think how much I really want that pie (quite a lot, obviously, pie is great), but I've long since come to terms with the fact that my default form is "lived-in". I do try to keep things under control, but I also put weight on at the mere menti...