Ahh, the general murmur of people, the clatter of cutlery … laughter

‘I’m now vainly waving my arms to attract the attention of someone to pay the bill. What utter bliss comes even with that frustration’

I’M ON the coffee now. The restaurant is teeming; bookings filled, I hear, until July. For my taste of freedom I’ve come to Stanley’s in Chelsea.

There’s been buzz about this place since it launched last year, between lockdowns. When I heard its large heated terrace would open on the Day of Hope, I quickly booked a table.

As I sip my Americano I’m surrounded by one of the most beautiful sounds in the world, one that has been silenced for months: the clatter of cutlery, bursts of laughter, catches of conversation and the general murmur of people.

Around tables are groups of girls, some young mothers with children in prams, couples, a few groups of men and, moving swiftly among it all, waiters and waitresses; some taking orders, others bringing food or drinks, or stopping to check on a customer and pour a glass of wine.

In the background I can just detect some music.

So far, so normal. So beautifully normal. But today it feels like a glorious novelty. Today we were unleashed to do what was so normal no one would ever have imagined a government would ban it. And that we would adhere.

Hopefully this is the restart of our lives; at least for those of us who consider eating out to be as important to living as breathing.

You might think that being a restaurant critic is not one of life’s essential services. I beg to differ, of course, hospitality being a cornerstone of our culture; its diversity, creativity and innovation, a symbol of a thriving and progressive nation.

So today, in the joy of being brought a smattering of starters to share: a deliciously fluffy version of taramasalata, chicken livers whipped to a mousse as light as a cloud, and a tender piece of chicken as a main course, I feel I’m getting a key part of my life back.

I’m now vainly waving my arms to attract the attention of someone so I can pay the bill.

What utter bliss comes even with that frustration.

With the bill paid I have just one other mission: to get a haircut.