Solosuppers:Diningonyourown

We are so culturally conditioned to seeing the breaking of bread as a communal activity that a stigma remains attached to the solo diner. This is compounded by restaurants aiming for maximum bums on seats – meaning they can baulk at a lone ranger taking up a double slot.

Plus, people are ghastly. A group of female diners once removed my place setting in the sea-view area of a Greek restaurant because they wanted to add my table to theirs for their husbands, regardless of my being halfway through my meal. I had to point out that – despite not sporting a wedding ring – I did still qualify as human.

Even the most stalwart solo traveller can feel shy about lone dining, fearing they may look a tad Johnny No-Mates. This is not helped by some hotel staff seeing this as an opportunity to hit on single guests, or push them towards the “social” table for people who’d like to make friends; not all of us do all of the time – some of us, like Garbo, want to be alone. For there is real joy to be had in a solo supper: eating what one wants, when one wants, at one’s own pace. Go slightly early or late. Choose an area at which one can eat without being glared at by waiting groups. Sushi bars and bistros tend to be good at handling lone diners, tapas and/or fondue joints less so. Don’t feel it has to be a spartan affair: if you want the lobster, have the lobster, and enjoy every last morsel.

A regular adventurer recommends bringing a magazine rather than a newspaper, having once inadvertently set the latter on fire, then picking a window seat for people-watching. She avoids being too fancily dressed so as not to look as if she has been stood up.