During one of the stickier periods of my life I regularly took myself off on a Saturday morning for breakfast and then a trip to the cinema. Those few hours eating alone, reading alone and watching alone kept me afloat through horrendous work pressure and a warped, harmful relationship.
I got out, moved jobs, cities, homes and blokes and stopped dating myself. Not deliberately, but slowly and definitely I gave up time alone. At first, this is the for the best reasons. You’ve licked your wounds and are making tentative steps on the way to a new life. And those steps become a conga through new pubs, new friends, new experiences and the whirlwind keeps you going. After a while something is missing and you can’t quiet work it out. Then you get 10 minutes with a book while waiting for a friend and it clicks. You’ve not done this for a while.
My last proper solo date was to see Denial which meant sobbing in public and then for lunch with wine at East Avenue Bakehouse. I came home refreshed and ready for anything. When Fizzy went live I had a lone celebratory lunch with good coffee and Wilkie Collins. It’s the perfect remedy for busy brain and a reminder that you’re alright, you are.