My husband and I managed to get a night away from the children, and we paid the price when we collected our autistic daughter, M, on our return, but that is another story. As part of our stay, we enjoyed the self-service breakfast offered by a well-known purple UK hotel chain.

The self-service breakfast is a sensory minefield, and this morning was no exception. The restaurant was packed when we arrived, with many bodies jostling for their continental and cooked breakfasts. My other half knows the drill when entering the lion’s den. He lets me sit down while he gets my drinks, so I don’t have to wait in line or be too close to people. As ever, there are tiny glasses, so we tend to have a few glasses of juice!

It is noisy, with many children running around. I am not complaining; my children are just as boisterous, but it is one more thing for my brain to overthink or worry about. I also have a new environment to navigate, to map and plan. When I sit, I look over my best escape route (I always need a way to get out of there), the layout of the breakfast, and how people are interacting with each other, including how they move around the space. It is like a military operation in my mind. It gets very tiring.

Like many autistic people, I suffer from Irritable Bowel Syndrome (Geng, 2025) and cannot tolerate a number of different foods well. This means I am on a gluten-free diet, as well as many other intolerances. This adds another layer to navigate. Before we are seated, we are asked whether we have any allergies, and I disclose my intolerances. I am handed a greasy folder full of allergen information. This is great, but I am distressed: the folder is filthy, and I don’t know whether I should wash my hands. Yes, I have OCD as well.

Fortunately, I know this brand well and what I can tolerate and what I cannot. I know ordering gluten-free bread will take time, and this works well for me. I can sit and take in my surroundings, continuing to assess the environment. I also don’t have to awkwardly stand by the toaster, waiting for my bread to turn into toast. By the time my toast arrives, the restaurant has quietened down, and I collect my cooked breakfast with limited interaction with strangers. However, they have given me two pieces of toast, and they are quite small. So now I need to ask more.

This may sound simple, but I have so many things racing through my mind. What if they think I am greedy? Will they judge me? Will I be an inconvenience? I have no idea how long this lot of toast will take. However, I am brave, and I ask for more. It takes forever to arrive, and when it does, one slice is burnt to a crisp. Fortunately, we can laugh about it. I leave it on my plate. I have learnt that I don’t have to eat it if I don’t want to.

A self-service breakfast and my concerns may seem trivial, but to an autistic person, the prospect of a busy restaurant with people milling around can be very scary and overwhelming. There are so many different sounds and smells, and on top of that, bright lights. There is also the prospect of encountering many unknown faces, who they are trying to read.

Questions go through my head like, ‘Did that person give me an evil look?’ ‘Is that person waiting in line?’ ‘If I ask them, will they be annoyed with me?’ In reality, these people are probably oblivious to me, but again, I cannot read that.

I successfully survived breakfast! It is much easier to manage myself and not have to worry about M or her needs. It really helps that my other half knows what I need from him, and he is willing to provide it. It also helps that the staff at this purple hotel were so kind. All in all this was one of the better self-service breakfasts I have experienced and I leave relaxed

References

Geng, C. (2025) Irritable Bowel Syndrome and Autism: Is There A Link? Available at: https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/irritable-bowel-syndrome-autism