I’m writing this sitting at a bar in a diner. Next to me there is an older lady, drinking her coffee alone. Â She’s looking around, smiling gently at others, not desperate for conversation, but not avoiding it. Â She has nothing in her hands except her mug.
I, on the other hand, have a coffee, my phone, my kindle and my laptop all at my fingertips. Â All available. All ready to ease me out of any discomfort that might come from being here alone on Easter Sunday. Â What is it about usÂ that is so uncomfortable at the thought of sitting, alone without distractionÂ in a public setting. Â Fear of boredom? Â I think not. Â I think it’s fear of being uncomfortable, fear of embarrassment; shame.