It is said that one of the greatest things about being a bloke (along with peeing standing up and not being able to give birth) is that you are blessed with the freedom to go into a pub alone and not be hassled by some beer-fuelled suitor thinking that you're "up for it" just because you happen to be enjoying a quiet drink on your own.

So it's nice to know that as a male singleton reborn you still have somewhere where you can go "where everybody knows your name".

Last week I wrote about how some new divorcees feel they can't enjoy a decent social life because they no longer have someone special to share the evening with.

But there is nothing wrong with a bloke going to his local alone where he might know the regu- lars and the barman will serve him "his usual".

Admittedly, this is a rather misty-eyed take on the Peterborough pub scene. In reality, you're more likely to be greeted by some gorilla in a coat, fresh out of clink, pumped up by roid rage and two hours hoisting weights down the gym and grunting you a Neanderthal- esque "good evening".

The bar will be populated by alcopop-swilling post-pubescents puking their guts up in the toilet while someone snorts cocaine in the cubicle next door.

Instead of a familiar face who knows your name, you wade through a three-deep layer of well-oiled punters, to be met by a surly barmaid/student who does an outstanding job of convincing you that you are actually invisible to the naked eye. Then there's the cinema.

I'm quite happy going to the cinema on my own. It's not exactly a sociable pastime is it?

After you have purchased the overpriced pop- corn, you sit in stony silence watching a film. You don't need company to enjoy a good movie.

In fact, you don't have the distraction of someone wittering into your lug-holes about whether to opt for iguana green or pale parsnip on the bath- room walls.

I can recall how going to the cinema as a couple was a particularly fraught outing.

On those rare occasions when we managed to agree to go to the cinema together, there would still be a number of hurdles to overcome.

Before the debate about where to sit in the cinema, we first had to agree on what film to see.

The ubiquitous chick flick with women bond- ing over a duvet or some plotless action movie with an adjective noun title and lots of car chases and mindless violence.

If, by some miracle, we settled on Lethal Justice or Deadly Impact II, the entire viewing would be accompanied by questions about the bathroom walls and intermittent tutting in my left ear.