Now, it’s not often that you find yourself partaking in a conga line at the beginning of an evening’s entertainment – normally that curious pleasure is reserved solely for the initiation of drunken uncles once things are well underway – but then this was no ordinary night out. So it came to pass that my companion and I were instructed to form an orderly queue with eight other diners, each placing our right hand on the right shoulder of the person in front.

There was a sudden burst of excitement at the front of the queue, and we were introduced to Cyril, our waiter for the evening. In we charged, to the depths of the Dans Le Noir? building, down a ramp, through some heavy curtains – and into the darkest space I’ve ever been in, even when I only had amniotic fluid as a friend. Your eyes just don’t adjust. You become disorientated and the room seems cavernous, with voices and the jangling of fork to plate coming at you from all angles. I’m assured the room seats 60 diners, but when you’re in there you have no idea of the size, scale or layout. Which is why it makes sense that Cyril is blind.

Before descending into the dining room you’re given the option of four menus: red, green, blue and white – meat, veggie, fish and specials respectively. Being something of a fish fiend, I went blue, while my companion was feeling experimental and opted for white. To accompany, we’d have the special surprise wine, I declared. Which leads me to my first question: have you ever tried pouring yourself a glass of vino in the dark? The more hardened among you will know that it’s actually fairly simple – feel for your glass, pop a finger in, pour s-l-o-w-l-y and stop when your pinkie gets wet. Easy.

Using a knife and fork in zero visibility? Not so much. When my starter arrived – huge pan-fried scallops and haddock fishcakes – I approached in the only way I knew how, desperately clutching my cutlery and hoping for the best. Having successfully speared a scallop, ascertained that that was… More