I’m writing this sitting at a bar in a diner. Next to me there is an older lady, drinking her coffee alone. She’s looking around, smiling gently at others, not desperate for conversation, but not avoiding it. 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. All available. All ready to ease me out of any discomfort that might come from being here alone on Easter Sunday. What is it about us that is so uncomfortable at the thought of sitting, alone without distraction in a public setting. Fear of boredom? I think not. I think it’s fear of being uncomfortable, fear of embarrassment; shame.
