Dear restaurant designer,
I hope that you don’t mind me dropping you this note out of the blue but I wanted to have a word about the humble topic of seating. You see, you have started to lose the plot a little (and some diners too) by forgetting a few basic facts about where people like to perch their bottoms as they tuck into a handsome spread. Please take the following notes as well intentioned.

The banquette
These look good on the digital mock-ups where your restaurant clients see jolly people squeezed in tightly, giddily knocking back their margaritas. And they always evoke a certain 1950s American-diner vibe, which can also be cool (if you like ketchup with your fries). But the problem is that someone has to take one for the team by sitting in the middle of the banquette and who wants to do that? It’s a bit like asking for the middle-of-the-row seat on a plane – a move only made by saints and oddballs. Because once you’ve bounced yourself in, that’s you done for the night. You won’t be seeing the bathroom for three hours. And nobody wants their evening to be a bladder-endurance test. That’s what Oppenheimer was for.

Two-tier seating
This is a bit of a phenomenon. You book a table for two and one person gets to sit on a soft couch that sinks low under their weight, while the other is given a solid, firm-backed dining chair. Suddenly two people who arrived in the restaurant looking like height twins are transformed into Danny DeVito and Arnold Schwarzenegger (and as someone who is already more on the DeVito side of life, I can assure you that I am not taking the couch). In some restaurants with this design scenario, my chin risks resting on the table, which explains why a waiter once asked my dining companion what his child would like for lunch.

Low seating
In a garden setting or at a beach restaurant, I get this design decision. The menu offers small dishes for sharing; the moment is as much about the rosé as the dining. But when this look is taken indoors and the menu consists of Sunday roasts or spaghetti covered in a sauce that could be used to spray-paint a car, we need to have a little chat about this. Nobody can elegantly dissect a chicken while in a position reminiscent of a trip to the gynaecologist (not that I have been personally).

Bar stools
We all love a bar stool – at a bar. You get to see cocktails being made and chat with the staff. But there they should stay. When restaurants start adding the equivalent of standing desks to the dining floor, you know that you’re in trouble. The expectation is that you will be happy to be stuck on a bar stool for a three-course meal. Just make sure that you have your osteopath on speed dial because you will suffer. It’s the restaurant equivalent of flying to Australia on Ryanair.

Tables
They should not be so wide that conversation can’t flow across them. Chinese restaurants are good at circular tables; most other places aren’t. They are also usually of a scale that makes you think that knights will be pitching up any second to claim their favoured spot.

As I said, this is all advice offered in the spirit of being helpful, though I have a feeling that funky computer restaurant-design simulations might win out over common-sense care for perching people.

Oh, and if you ever see what looks like a little chipmunk sitting on a couch opposite a giant on a proper chair, please remember to give me a menu.