We had planned to have grilled chicken with another batch of that delicious cilantro pesto – but Shane and Aaron’s moped work ran long, and I ate solo instead.

I’ve never been intimidated by eating solo.  I’m not sure why this is.  I’ve always relished the experience of going to a restaurant, ordering whatever I want, eating it at my leisure, and lingering over a glass of wine and a good book.  Sometimes it’s lonely, but most of the time, it’s a lovely and indulgent experience.  I can probably say this because I’m in a relationship and eating solo is the exception rather than the rule – but this was the case even when I was single.

At home, though, solo eating is more of a mixed bag.  Sometimes I’m eating down the fridge, making bizarre-o meals out of whatever’s available.  Sometimes I forget to eat.  Sometimes I prepare elaborate dishes.  Tonight was somewhere in between – an ear of extra juicy sweet corn with a pat of butter so tempting that Mina kept stealing it, followed by tomatoes on toast with a good pinch of fleur de sel.  And then, later, a small bowl of Cheerios, a convenient snack while knitting and watching TV.