This is chapter 9 from ‘Passport to the Pub’ – How to Become a Regular. As before, my comments reflecting Taps reality are in red.
How to become a regular
First, choose your pub carefully. If you are here in the tourist season, avoid the obviously tourist-oriented pubs and the larger, more impersonal big-chain pub-restaurants. Instead, search out a smallish, friendly local in a back-street, suburb or village. Make sure that it is a pub full of regulars (see Chapter 3 for tips on identifying regulars).
Well this just stands to reason doesn’t it? But I suppose that if you are an American tourist you really might not know this. Which again raises the question of whether or not this is meant in seriousness or whether it’s a parody? I tend to think that this is meant as a serious advisory manual. Which is, frankly, a bit weird isn’t it? I mean surely America isn’t so alien a country that they’d need a manual to help them use a pub.
Once you have found the right friendly local, demonstrate loyalty by visiting this pub as often as possible - at least 3 times in a week, preferably including at least one weekday evening and one Sunday lunchtime. Going on weekday evenings will show that you are a serious regular pubgoer, not just a casual Saturday-night-out visitor. The pub is also likely to be less busy on weekday evenings, giving you more opportunities to get to know the publican and bar staff. In many locals, Sunday lunchtime is one of the most popular ‘sessions’ with regulars, when they are at their most genial and relaxed.
This is good advice and pretty spot on I think. While you can be a regular only coming in at the weekend it will take you much, much longer to do it that way. It’s a much quicker and easier process if you were to come in during the week on quiet evenings and get to know people that way.
The point about Sunday is also well made – although it was actually more true eight or nine years ago. Sunday was always the regulars’ day – but less so now. Or at least that’s my impression anyway. I’m rarely in any fit state to drink on a Sunday anymore.
At the first opportunity, buy a drink for the publican (or the member of bar staff who serves you), using the "and one for yourself?" formula. Also try to find an early opportunity to make friendly contact with the other regulars. Get involved in the chat at the bar counter, and play your full part in the round-buying ritual.
Well, again, yes. The bottom line is that unless you make the effort to get involved you’re never going to become a regular. Just try and be normal about it. Be decent and nice. Although this point does remind me of something I’ve been meaning to ask the staff: what’s your rationale behind when you will and won’t (this obviously doesn’t apply to Gareth) accept a drink from a customer? Is there an element of ‘no, you’re too much of a weirdo to get into any kind of relationship with).
The benefits of being a regular
The term ‘regular’ covers a number of different ranks and positions within the pub-tribe, from the ordinary member to the tribal elder or warrior. But even the most ordinary rank-and-file member of the tribe is a privileged being, and enjoys a sense of importance and belonging that can never be experienced by outsiders. Once you have established yourself as a friendly, loyal, regular customer, you should start to experience at least some of the joys and privileges of this status. These include:
· Being greeted by name as you enter the pub or approach the bar. Imagine, after a long day trailing around museums and ‘sights’ as an anonymous tourist, the sheer warmth and pleasure of that initial chorus of "Hello, John!", "Evening, John", "Oh, there you are, John – thought you’d fallen in the lake" - or even "Ah, just in time to buy your round, John!"
True, it is nice, especially if like me you’ve spent all day at work being referred to as ‘that bloke over there crying.’
· The publican and bar staff knowing what you drink - saying "Usual is it, John?", or perhaps starting to pour your drink before you even reach the bar counter.
I think we take small things like this for granted.
· Friends. You may never see your fellow regulars outside the pub - most of them have never been to each other’s homes, and would never expect to be invited. But these are friends. The publican, bar staff and regulars in your local are people who take a genuine interest in you, your activities and your concerns.
This is true to an extent, I suppose. But that said, in the Taps we do go to people’s weddings and christenings and birthdays (well I don’t do birthdays). We go to lunch and dinner and museums and galleries together. So yes, it is true to say these are friends. Real friends. Good friends, and, one would hope, lasting friends.
· Information, advice and help. The publican, staff and your fellow regulars are the best source of information and advice on local matters - from where to catch a bus to how to find a better hotel.
You know, this is truer than you would think. A proper regulars pub is a wonderful mix of all sorts of people, and generally you can find someone who knows a bit about everything, whether that be how to hang paintings for an exhibition, how to sell your house, write a C.V, fix your computer, set up your phone, or how to run a kick ass sub-committee of the Board (you never know when that might come in handy, you know).
These are just a few of the many pleasures of being a regular - those which seem to be common to all pubs. In your chosen local, regulars may enjoy all sorts of special rights and privileges that are not mentioned here.
Along with the many benefits, there are some duties and responsibilities attached to your new position as a full member of the pub-tribe - but don’t worry, there are no particularly onerous tasks involved.
· You must always greet the publican, bar staff and fellow regulars when you enter the pub - even when you are feeling tired and unsociable. If you have had a very hard day, you may perform a truncated version of the greeting ritual - a few nods and "’nings", rather than everybody’s name plus enquiries about their health etc. - but you cannot avoid the process entirely, however weary or grumpy you may feel.
I agree with this. There are times when you just feel the entire weight of the world on you and all you want to do is have a pint and luxuriate in your own misery, but I believe you still have a responsibility to smile and say hello just as a minimum – then you can disappear off to the corner to slowly stew over the many cosmic wrongs which have been done you.
· You must always play your full part in the round-buying ritual. This means always remembering who has bought you a drink, and making sure that you reciprocate as soon as possible; never having to be reminded that it is your round; always being aware of your companions’ drinking-pace, so that you can say "It’s my round" at the correct moment - without, of course, ever giving the impression of being too concerned or calculating about these matters.
I don’t personally like getting into rounds unless there are only two of you, but that said, again this is absolutely true. If you’re in a round do your friggin’ duty. Although, to be honest, if you’ve got a reputation as a person who doesn’t shoulder their fair weight in the round buying process, you’ll never be accepted as a regular.
· You must display a loyal, protective attitude towards your pub and everything and everyone in it. If you become a warrior, you have special responsibility for protecting the pool table, dart board or other games equipment from any potential harm or damage. You may adopt a somewhat proprietorial manner in this context, preventing ‘outsiders’ from spilling their drinks on the pool table, for example.
Obviously given my whole ‘the pub is a community’ shtick I strongly believe in this. If you get the benefits of being a regular there are attendant responsibilities to look out for the staff and the pub. First and foremost amongst those – and this if nothing else - try your best not to do anything to make the lives of the staff any harder than it already is. We’ve all seen the type of Jeremy Kyle, feral, illiterate scum they sometimes have to put with, so let’s not add to that burden [I say this fully realising that I can be as much – if not more of a pain – as everyone else when I’m drunk, but well….I’m drunk, and I don’t mean it. Sorry] by being idiots ourselves.
Equally, just small things like reminding people that they’re not allowed to take their drinks outside when you see them outside with a bottle or glass, or letting staff know when the ashtray’s on fire.
· Finally, you must never take advantage of your privileged status. You must not expect to be served ‘out-of-turn’ at the bar - although this may sometimes happen, simply because a familiar face is more noticeable in a crowd (or because some ignorant tourist ahead of you has offended the bar staff by failing to observe the correct etiquette). You must not monopolise the attention of the publican or bar staff when other customers are waiting to be served - in fact, it is your duty to call out "Hey, you got customers here, mate!", should the publican or staff be engaged in chat and inadvertently neglecting their duties.
I don’t really know if this is true or not. I would never knowingly try and get served if I knew someone was before me, but I would say, ‘Gareth, when you’ve got a chance’ (which probably counts as annoying behaviour when the bars packed and everyone’s serving three people at once. Sorry), but whether or not I’m then served out of turn I don’t know.
In short, being a regular is a bit like being a member of a close-knit extended family, with all the advantages and disadvantages that this entails. The pub, to many natives, is a second home - and some probably spend more time in the pub than they do in their own homes. Most foreigners find it hard to understand the British love-affair with the pub. We hope that this book has explained some of the irresistible attractions of the pub, and, more important, made you want to discover them for yourself.
To me this about sums it up. Taps family, yo.
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