I would rather eat at the bar, but such behavior is regarded by professionals as a form of denial, so here I am seated alone at a table with a white tablecloth attended by an elderly waiter with no name- ideal conditions for dining alone according to the connoisseurs of this minor talent. I have brought neither book nor newspaper since reading material is considered cheating. Eating alone, they say, means eating alone, not in the company of Montaigne or the ever-engaging Nancy Mitford. Nor do I keep glancing up as if waiting for someone who inevitably fails to appear- a sign of moral weakness to those who take this practice seriously.