A love letter to solitude
sometimes we need help or advice. other times, we need a table for one and a journal.
Table For One is out now, and to celebrate the release, I’m offering you a 50% off discount code to join The Hyphen for the next few hours.
I love to eat in silence, watching the world go by. Recently, in Paris, I stopped off on the way to my hotel and had a croque monsieur and a small glass of Chablis in the sunshine on the side of the road, and it felt radical to be allowing myself a moment of complete and utter pleasure for no reason other than I felt like it. As I get older, I lean further into myself and my introverted ways.
I believe that when we write fiction, we are dancing with our subconscious. I never know what I’m writing about until I’ve written it. I don’t plan my novels, so I’m often left with a messy first draft that needs a lot of editing. Sometimes, I still don’t know what I’ve written about until the reviews come in, and one recently said that my latest Table For One reads as “a love letter to solitude”. Yes, that’s exactly it. I utter these three words ‘table for one’ most weeks because I love to eat alone in restaurants.
In my twenties, I used to nervously ask, with a tinge of embarrassment, for a table for one. I wanted to take up space, but didn’t quite feel it in my bones yet. I would eat nervously, distracting myself with a book and avoiding eye contact with anyone who might look pitying, and I would act sheepishly with the waiters. Now, at 36, I proudly ask for my table for one. Sometimes, I even ask for the best table and order multiple things to try, as if I were wooing myself. I take my time; I don’t even need a book, Kindle, or podcast to keep me company. I just enjoy the food, flavours, and the experience of being present in the moment. People often assume a table for one is not a chosen activity, that the person is lonely or on a soulless business trip, quickly eating and then going home. But some people savour their table for one, who look forward to it, even those in a long-term relationship (like me), or those who love their kids and family but need a little break.
Every month or so, I take myself to Lina Stores, at one of their many locations across London. I order the Tagliolini al Tartufo: 30-egg yolk Tagliolini, black truffle, butter, parmigiano reggiano with a side of focaccia al rosmarino and extra virgin oil and Crodino Spritz. It’s simple, it’s delicious, it’s me-time. I sit at the bar, or a back table and delight in the indulgent pleasure and quiet joy, not having to speak to anyone, just being quiet with myself and my thoughts. Of course, I enjoy eating with friends too, and some of my favourite dining experiences have been with my husband, where we discuss the menu and have a joint experience – a shared paella, or a shared bottle of something.
But leaning into moments of solitude is also good for us. According to recent studies, spending time alone has multiple benefits, including improved problem-solving and emotion regulation, as well as a deeper sense of creativity. When I’m alone, I get to reflect on my life, mull over my book ideas, work out plot holes, ask myself questions about my characters, and decide which route to take forward.
Sometimes, we need help or advice. But other times, we need a table for one. Good food, a good view, and some time to figure things out on our own.
Read this post in full over on Condé Nast Traveller here.
And to celebrate the release, I’m offering you a 50% off discount code to join The Hyphen for the next few hours.
Other related posts:
