My hero, Tartare Sauce Man

Single File: People say I have been too negative about living alone. Someone even used the word miserable. I thought I was breaking the news gently, but, looking back, maybe I did write the pieces on bad days.

So today I am trying very hard to have a good day. I found a postcard in my favourite coffee shop that said "It's OK now", and I'm taking that as a sign.

When I was 23 I worked for a year in a sheltered complex for the elderly. I realised then that no matter what happens or doesn't happen in people's lives, most of us end up living alone. The good thing about living alone now is I am getting some practice.

And so here, according to me, are the good bits. Because I've always had more faith in the power of negative thinking, some of them may sound as if they are on the verge of being bad. I am probably being accurate, because the good things about living alone can sometimes seem the worst, such as the fact that nobody will worry whether or not you come home. It is a bit like holding a coin in your hand and turning it over and over. Heads is very almost tails.

Outer peace

Things will always be where you left them, if you can remember where that was.

You always get to choose what is on the television, radio, stereo, menu and calendar.

You break only your own things. (One of my flatmates lost a lot of property when she shared with me, and I was worn out apologising.)

You never find someone else has drunk the last of the whiskey or eaten the last of the biscuits, or is on the phone or in the bath when you want to be.

You can leave your bootprints on the rugs.

There is nobody, except you, to avoid.

Inner peace

You learn to accept the monotony of individual responsibility; you take the bins out.

You get less afraid of being alone, and the number of places you can go on your own gets longer.

By seeing what bad company you can sometimes be, you may learn to live with that.

Freedom from the other

You don't have to battle the impulse to read your flatmate's diary (I'm not proud).

Nobody will take your keys by mistake and leave you trapped in the house for a day.

Nobody will forget to say welcome home.

Nobody will complain if you move your library into the toilet.

Nobody will complain, full stop.

You only get to walk out on yourself.

And now my tip for people living alone: be hospitable, because visitors are like short-term flatmates, without the messy endings. It should be fun, but occasionally it is terrifying, as if your life alone is suddenly put on show, and you have to watch it and make up subtitles for it at the same time. "Yes, that is the leaking ceiling - and yes, that is the satellite dish I look at when I am eating my solo dinners."

At least I'm an entertaining host. My kitchen is also my dining room (and my sitting room), so guests get to watch my comedy show, called Food Preparation. It involves a lot of dropping and crashing. One friend has learned to keep her eyes trained on me. She is always poised to shout: "I don't eat food that falls on carpet!" The others usually nod. "Aren't you hungry?" I ask. Or: "What do you eat?"

To distract my guests further I tell them about my superheroes for people on their own. The first is Steve McQueen in The Great Escape: he leaves solitary confinement looking as cool and self-assured as before he went in. The other is Tartare Sauce Man, from the introduction to One Is Fun! Delia Smith tells us that, when he was single, Tartare Sauce Man would sit in front of the television with a jar of tartare sauce, into which he dunked fish fingers before eating them. Delia castigates this man as a culinary misfit, but I was impressed: at least he found his way to a shop and managed to buy two items that could be eaten together.

In the end it comes down to perspective. One of my favourite lines from Only Fools And Horses is when someone is describing Trig: "Every weekend he goes to the park and throws bread to the ducks - to him it's a dinner party."

To me, ending things on a positive note almost feels like fraud, but here goes. I sometimes feel I am trapped in a one-woman show that nobody is watching, but I am beginning to think there may be worse ways to live. Thank you for reading.

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