TABLE PLANNING
If there's one task that has the power to bring even the most chilled-out couple to the brink of booking a one-way ticket to somewhere sunny and asking two locals to be your witnesses, it's making a table plan.
A table plan: I know you know this probably, but it’s where you try to work out who is going to sit where, and essentially who’ll get on best when sat four inches apart at a packed round banqueting table.
Now, if you're at the stage where the invitations are out and the RSVPs are trickling back, first of all: congratulations! Secondly: brace yourself. Because organising where everyone sits is a bit like hosting a family reunion, a corporate away day, and a diplomatic summit... all at once.
Here's the thing nobody tells you: the table plan is basically a game of wedding Tetris, but the pieces have opinions.
Let's start with the basics:
Get a big piece of paper or a whiteboard. No spreadsheets just yet. We need to see it laid out like a battlefield, sorry, I mean, "celebration zone."
Draw your tables. Circles, squares, long banqueting ones, whatever you're having. Don't get too detailed; this is the scrappy first draft.
Family first. If there's one golden rule, it's that parents and close family go near the top table. Unless there's "a situation," in which case… maybe near-ish, but with a buffer zone of well-meaning cousins.
Friends and plus-ones. Seat people with at least one person they know. Otherwise, you'll get that awkward "Hello, I'm John. I don't know anyone," introduction at every single table.
The wildcard table. You will have one table that's a glorious mix of friends from university, workmates you see once a year, childhood neighbours, and someone's emergency plus-one. Accept it. Lean into it. Some of the best friendships (and slightly questionable dance-floor partnerships) start here.
Just a note at this point, don’t feel like you need to sit the photographer or videographer at a table, and certainly don’t seat the band at a table: they eat with their hands, drink the table dry and then look for other tables where folk aren’t keeping an eye on how many bottles they’ve been through. I josh ever so slightly, but suppliers generally like a little downtime and you really don’t need to feed them a three-course meal.
Now, a few quick notes from someone who sees these things unfold every weekend:
1. You won't please everyone. Aunty Daphne might have wanted a better seat. Your old flatmate might feel slighted that they're not closer to you. Honestly? They'll get over it. Especially once the wine starts flowing.
2. Don't overthink 'status'. Just because Great-Uncle Mike once looked after your cat doesn't mean he must sit three chairs away from the cake. Emotional proximity counts more than historical grudges.
3. Kids. If you have lots of children coming, it's worth considering a 'kids' table' decorated a bit differently, with some activities. Otherwise, seat them with their parents unless you want impromptu games of musical chairs. Word to the wise too, listen to the episode about the 7-minute speech rule. It works for adults listening and it most certainly works for kids.
4. Flexibility on the day. Someone will swap seats. Someone will ignore the plan entirely. That's okay. The plan is a guide, not a prison sentence and just like on an airline, you can trust the staff to work that one out.
And a little secret? As your photographer, I'm mainly looking for smiling faces, laughing groups, and spontaneous moments. Nobody will know if Cousin Brian was supposed to be two seats to the left.
So breathe. Sketch it out. Shuffle it. Laugh a little. And maybe, just maybe, keep a bottle of something nice nearby. Oh… and don’t let anyone else move people around. Guard it. Employ a Doberman, if you need to.
