Table for one? | GettyImages
(Picture: Mondadori via Getty Images)If you’ve ever deigned to attempt a ‘group’ activity alone, you’ll be well acquainted with the look. Oh, you know the one, it’s burnt into your retinas: wide-eyed with an exaggerated smile, searching for something, anything, that’ll reveal a glimpse of what’s wrong with you. Are you lonely? Strange? A foot festishist? Emotionally unavailable? Troubled? Bored? Or worse… boring? The possibilities are endless and, unbeknownst to you, you’ve signed up to become a curiosity. It’s enough to scare anyone with a pulse into tying themselves to the nearest person forever. Or, God forbid, put you off the prospect of gobbling anything in public alone.
But what if we redefined dining out solo as something for the curious? An adventure for those who don’t want to adhere to the dull rhythm of WhatsApp chats, Doodle surveys and date nights; a solace for Londoners itching to know what beef is going on behind the bar and which off-menu side dishes the regulars are ordering on the sly. Here, in A Table For One, I’ll be truly, madly, greedily trying to do just that. Every so often I’ll be observing a different London institution as a solo diner. No freebies, no PR, just me and a large portion of gluttony devouring all there is to consume in this glorious, delicious city.
