Managing other people’s expectations takes the joy out of pretty much any excursion. Most things are better enjoyed alone. This hit me many years ago when I decided to risk a bullfight in Las Ventas in Madrid. My grandfather wasn’t long dead, and had been a fan of la corrida; I felt that this was something I wanted to do alone, lest whoever I was with think I’m a total sicko.

As a naturally highly neurotic mother, it’s liberating not having to worry if one’s uniquely precious offspring

I’ve since become less cautious about admitting how much I like going solo. Without the pressure of having to think about whether everyone else is having fun, you can immerse yourself fully in whatever new experience it is, and not be subjected to conversational post mortems either.

Exhibitions alone are obviously preferable: the pain of dealing with well-meaning but facile commentary from friends who feel the need to comment, generally uncritically, is a soul-crushing buzzkill. Gigs alone are good too. I’ve learnt the hard way (as have far too many of my friends) that one can drive those one holds dearest to a concert, but they won’t necessarily share the love. Several still haven’t forgiven me for an Electric Prunes gig back in 2002.

I feel similarly about travelling alone. As a naturally highly neurotic mother, it’s liberating not having to worry if one’s uniquely precious offspring is at risk of exposing themselves to contagion in a foreign setting. And while nobody who knows me actually believes this, I’m actively relaxed on a solo holiday. It’s a twist on the classic conundrum of what happens when a tree falls in a forest: if there’s nobody there to see you’re not obsessively checking the beds for bed bugs, perhaps you scoured the mattress all night?

But by far my favourite act of solitary cultural activity is going to the cinema alone.

QOSHE - Fun for one / The joy of going solo - Ettie Neil-Gallacher
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Fun for one / The joy of going solo

5 1
01.03.2024

Managing other people’s expectations takes the joy out of pretty much any excursion. Most things are better enjoyed alone. This hit me many years ago when I decided to risk a bullfight in Las Ventas in Madrid. My grandfather wasn’t long dead, and had been a fan of la corrida; I felt that this was something I wanted to do alone, lest whoever I was with think I’m a total sicko.

As a naturally highly neurotic mother, it’s liberating not having to worry if one’s........

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