The Baby of the Pub
Babies belong in pubs, IDST
This piece was originally written for Ferment, and published in issue 112: Love Your Pub in December 2024. You can sign up for their monthly beer club and magazine here.
In he comes, round feet and chunky legs first, bursting through the front door of our local pub. Conversations halt mid-sentence, dogs look up from their sleepy carpet naps — the baby of the pub has arrived. There are many children that frequent this pub, but only one baby who commands the attention and respect of his people so totally. His ginger hair like lit birthday candles, his hands grasping and waving, he is the pub’s favourite patron, and this evening, everyone is blessed with his presence.
As his mum carries him to the bar, men of all ages gather around to tell him how well his toothypegs are getting on. He smiles beatifically at his audience, grinning gummily, the pearly-white objects of approval getting a real airing. Clever boy! Stunning boy! A group of birthday party celebrators in glittery blouses and smart shirts form a circle around him, taking it in turns to kiss his outstretched hands as though they are gilded in sovereigns and a figaro chain. At the bar he reaches chubby fingers out at other people’s pints, amazed by the shiny glass, the bubbles, or the beer inside. He is big for his age, but he’s nowhere near old enough for one of his own, no matter what he tells you in convincing baby dialect. He likes to chew the beer mats, so we have to hide them. He likes to grab the beers, so we have to keep hold of them. He wants to be a part of everything, and so we place him at the centre of this little universe, happily dancing in his seat to the tune of an entire pub full of people joining in to sing “Wind The Bobbin Up,” including three men stood at the bar who would ordinarily stay stoic and silent in the face of small talk.
There are people who think children shouldn’t be in pubs, but I couldn’t disagree more fervently. I think that not only should children be actively made to feel at home in pubs, people should take it upon themselves to show them how to use a pub properly—it takes a village. Pubs are unusual spaces in 2024, there’s nothing else like them in our society. They are places of enjoyment and relaxation, where strangers talk freely and the world of work is far away. People speak differently in pubs, they act differently too, and the sooner a little one can learn the implicit rules and manners of the public house, the better. The kids you don’t like in pubs are the ones who don’t know how to act in one — maybe they’re loud, or they “run around,” a common complaint from patrons which I rarely see happening in real life. It’s important to remember that nobody knows anything unless somebody takes the time to teach them. That pub goers expect children to sit silently in a corner while everyone else is having a grand old time is ridiculous. Get them involved in conversation, teach them how to play dominoes. The better they enjoy a pub thanks to your kindness, the more often their parents can visit and let their hair down a bit, and truly, that is the noblest deed.
The baby of the pub is one year old. He has been coming to the pub since he was old enough to be wrapped in a blanket. Because he’s been a regular for the entire first year of his life, he is treated as such. When he isn’t with us, people ask where he is and what he’s up to, as though he’s staying late at work, or he’s had to travel into the city. He isn’t our baby, I should point out. However, as close associates of his, we are often asked about his whereabouts, and told to pass on love, as though he will understand. Which, of course, he will. “Ah, lovely to hear from Gregg,” he’ll burble from his car seat. “Glad he’s doing alright.” There’s a wholesome friendliness that baby pubgoers elicit from almost everybody in the room, and I have to say, I take full advantage of it for my own benefit too. Even when I am without a baby sidekick, just saying his name gets me on everyone’s good side. I immediately have friends to talk to, and some cute common ground to discuss. Faces soften and anecdotes about his chubby cheeks are shared. It makes me wonder what else could possibly get people connecting like this. Pub dogs are great, but I’ve never seen one revered as a Don, as blessed as a saint, and with so many people eager to discuss them at length — their weight, height, how many words they can say (okay, the last one is unfair for the dog in this comparison, but you understand.) Perhaps I’ve been going to the wrong pubs.
I have photographs of him high-fiving random visitors to the pub, and of him taking early steps on the classic pub carpet. He will happily sit on my knee and wave across the bar at his fans—people I have seen for years in this pub but have never spoken to before. He claps his hands at the sight of a pint, even though none of us taught him this. It’s always funny, every single time. He enjoys the busy atmosphere and the twinkling fairy lights, the knick-knacks and the attention. I’m quite jealous of his pub experiences, since every single visit is a perfect one. He’s only ever felt love and cosiness here. As a child I also loved visiting pubs on occasion, but sometimes it was a drag. On quiet days I sat silent and as still as possible, possibly colouring in, or sipping lemonade through a straw, while the adults talked about boring adult things and time seemed to slow to a stop. Later I would be commended on my behaviour, for being such a good, quiet girl. There are many people who still believe this is how children should behave. I disagree. Some of the best conversations I have are with the kids I know. I’m glad the baby of the pub is never expected to blend into the wallpaper.
The baby of the pub is growing up in a world where the pub is a normal part of his life. It’s teaching him to treat the pub as a natural meeting place, rather than a posh restaurant or an illicit drinking den. He’s being taught to enjoy hanging out here. And why shouldn’t he? This was our favourite place long before he was born, and now it is his. It’s a pleasure and an honour to teach him the ways of our local pub, and as he grows we’ll have new milestones to celebrate — his first packet of Scampi Fries, his first lime and soda, the first time he flips a beermat. One day he’ll be getting the rounds in and teaching his friends how to properly order at the bar—what a thought! To bring our youngsters into the pub is to raise a new generation of pub-lovers, and help secure the future of our pubs. It’s essential and difficult work, carrying a cute baby around so everyone can get a cuddle, but somebody has to do it.
Other Stuff
Ghostly Archive — recipes from the grave. Literally.
The beauty and importance and comfort of fictional food, from Serviette Magazine
A closer look at Titus Kaphar’s “Enough About You” (2016)
My Stuff
I’m heading to Stockport on Thursday 20th to pack and post the pre-ordered zines you’ve all ordered. There are nearly 200 of them! So thank you very much, I’ve never been happier to be so busy with envelope stuffing.
To get in on Thursday’s big postage day, you can still order your copy from the Pellicle site.
