Siobhan Warwicker

What is life but a series of awkward scenarios? Here are the ones likely to get Londoners peeking through their fingertips from a big fat dose of cringe. 1. Accidentally touching someone up The sensation of someone’s clammy little finger touching yours as you reach for the same patch of train handle is enough to make you recoil. So when you’re forced into a carriage scrum, having to press half your body’s surface area onto a stranger triggers panic – you could be moments from pepper sprayed eyeballs and the British Transport Police. But hey, it’s not your fault that London’s rush hour is more intimate than a dark corner of a Soho nightclub. 2. Waking up at the tube terminus If it’s not the freezing night air that wakes you as it leaks in through the open carriage doors, it’s a stern word from the man in a high-vis jacket and a disapproving expression. ‘Come on mate, it’s time to go home’ is a sorrowfully familiar phrase. The level of awkwardness is directly relative to how wasted you are – the guy opposite with a suspicious patch on his trousers definitely doesn’t give a toss. 3. The table turf-off Leaving your drink on the table as you pop out for a smoke is not an affirmative sign you’re coming back. Unless you want to intervene in Tinder date PDAs by kicking them off your patch, spare everyone the red face and leave a jacket, scarf, pocket handkerchief, monocle – anything! – on that chair. 4. The High Street Run One wrong turn on your Park Run and you’re flailing upstream

As soon as the mercury rises, no Londoner worth their salt would be seen drinking indoors. In this precious sunlight, out is always better than in. So no matter how dubious the boozer, you’ll find us there with bells if there’s chance to whip out the sunnies for an alfresco afternoon. Even these four: The no-beer brigade The sign outside the Chelsea bar was misleading. You enter the clearly labelled ‘beer garden’ like a warthog at the oasis, only to realise there’s not a pint in sight. Then it dawns on you: there aren’t even draught pumps. Sure, they pull out a couple of bottles from the fridge, but only with a look of disdain, you heathen. Sunny weather means Pimm’s in this neck of the woods, so join the big-haired club and embrace the sugary fruit cup. The actual street This VIP drinking area is so exclusive, the cordon is made of metal. Well, technically it’s a road railing - the only thing between you and three lanes of central London traffic. It’s obviously a top spot to enjoy the jealous looks of sweaty shoppers walking past: until one bumps  into your table, jolting your pint so that precious spilt nectar snakes its way purposefully to your lap. Karma’s a bitch.     The shaded garden Like the Selfish Giant’s garden, even when it’s glorious outside the shade can be cold enough to freeze Jean Claude Van Damme’s pants. At the King’s Head there is one patch of sun shining upon a single table, as if it’s blessed by the Angel Gabriel himself. Don’t think you’ll get to sit t