My first restaurant meal since lockdown was strange and joyful

Spontaneity may be off the menu, but eating out again meant an evening of solidarity and gratitude

I’m not sure I would have gone out for dinner on so-called “Super Saturday” had it not been for the fact that it was my birthday. But go out I did, and it was fiercely happy and deeply strange. The happiness was straightforward, born of relief and being with friends after a long time apart. The strangeness, though, is harder to capture. Whatever rowdiness we saw later on social media, the streets that we walked were quiet and ghostly, and no matter how hard everyone smiled – from the doorman in his scarlet-trimmed cap to the maitre d’ who, with perfect equanimity, checked our temperatures – the evening was edged with a certain anxiety. I don’t mean that people were worried about catching the virus; it’s more that no one knows, yet, what lies ahead. A bus ride, an ice bucket, a rare steak: all the good, old things felt oddly contingent.

The prospect of asking a friend in July if they fancy a bowl of pasta in October is a bit dispiriting