A table of one's own.

I clearly remember the first time I ate out alone. At 17, I waltzed in to Pizza Express in Oxford, ordered a margherita and an (illegal) Pinot Grigio, and spent 45 minutes convinced that the entire restaurant was staring at me - heaven for a self-indulgent teenager who wants as many people as possible to notice that she's reading a book actually in French.

Despite my now mercifully diminished teenage narcissism, my love for eating alone persists. I have long since stopped caring if other people are looking or if the waiter seems pitying. These (often imaginary) glances are far outweighed by the delight of being able to spend as long as I want dawdling over my meal and ordering a digestif to accompany the last chapter of my book without having to run it by a restless companion who wants to go and 'do things.'

But I recognise that for many, my languid solitary lunch is the stuff of sweaty, anxiety-based nightmares. What if people think you have been stood up? What if you are given the table at the back next to the wafting kitchen door, or worse, forced to share one with a libidinous couple? What if you forget how to read a menu and accidentally end up with a meat platter for 10 and have to eat the contents of a small abattoir out of embarrassment?

Fear not. I want as many people as possible to cast off the shackles of group bookings and embrace the wondrous world of eating (and occasionally drinking, just don't end up crying in to your pint) alone. This blog will explore the best places for single suppers and individual imbibing, be it on a solo business trip or just a desperate attempt to avoid commitments/friends/family/crushing sense of despair.

To make it official, I've even devised a scoring system. Each establishment will get a mark out of 15 based on a variety of factors, only one of which is the actual food. I'm no gourmet (my favourite meal is just an entire garlic baguette), but I have mastered the nonchalant 'table for one, please,' making me as qualified as any other misanthrope to write these reviews.

---

Layout: Are there a variety of tables available for solo guests, both discreetly tucked away and in the thick of it? Are they long, sharing tables where you end up squashed between loud, prosecco-fuelled hen parties, or daintily set for one?

1. Cramped sharing tables built for pairs and large groups or only crap seats at the bar where your feet can't quite touch the floor and you spend the entire evening trying not to slither to the ground.

2. Good individual seating at a bar or individual tables, but inferior placement. By the bins, perhaps.

3. A wide variety of tables throughout, built with individuals in mind.

Service: Do the staff treat you in the same way as they do larger groups, or ignore you in favour of the flashy scenester trying to impress a bored Tinder date with his Ted Baker pleather wallet?

1. Ignored or made to feel uncomfortable by staff who all but announce to the restaurant that you have no friends.

2. Generally good service, but not given the same treatment as couples or groups

3. Very good service, the kind that makes you realise you'd actually quite like being a child emperor.

Awkwardness: Humans are fundamentally bizarre and awkward beings, but eating alone shouldn't change that.

1. Clearly a romantic restaurant or one aimed at groups. The sort where they might make you sing on the table for your birthday.

2. Fine for the nonchalant or those who actually can lose themselves in a book/game of Candy Crush. The self-conscious may feel a frisson of shame.

3. Enjoyable atmosphere for even the most reluctant of solo diners (i.e the newly dumped)

Food: Is it actually tasty? Is it good value? Is it likely to make you physically ill?

1. Crap food, overpriced, may actually give you food poisoning.

2. Good food at normal price, nothing to write home about. As if anyone still even knows what a postcode is.

3. Ace food (not necessarily by gourmet standards, there could just be loads of it/it is all sprinkled with cheese) at an unnervingly reasonable price.

Convenience: Unless you're Marie Kondo out for a jaunt, you've probably got some items about your person. Dining alone means nobody to watch bags, laptops or the only good window seat for you.

1. Tricky. Orders are taken at the bar and toilets are approx. 34 miles away, meaning you've got to leave your Apple Mac and doomed screenplay unattended for some time.

2. No major issues, just the half marathon to the bathrooms and clientele who look unlikely to nick your headphones.

3. This can go up to a 4 if there are self-service machines at the table and a built-in commode.

Book recommendation: Eating out alone is all about confidence. Drinking alone is all about determination or sometimes desperation. Either way, the right book will be a far better companion than another person. It can't be too showy or someone might come and strike up conversation as you look so learned and wise. It can't be too simple or you'll get bored and stress about onlookers. I'll try and match the book and establishment to get a flavour of both.