All you can eat

I'm not one of those people who goes crazy at the sight of a buffet and piles my plate with as much food as possible to "get my money's worth". I don't abuse my stomach. But it seems some people don't know when to stop.

Some restaurants and hotels are concerned at the amount of food some people are grabbing, especially when they don't eat it all and leave half of it on their plate.

Mark Graham, landlord of the Star Inn in Penzance, Cornwall, now charges £2.40 a person for buffet "excess leftovers". A few spuds is obviously no problem, he told a customer who complained, but buffet behaviour was out of control, citing a plate "piled so high you could put a ladder and a flag on top of it."

When Jenny and I stay at the Premier Inn, we always opt for their buffet breakfast and have a generous amount of cold and cooked food to set us up for the day's wanderings. But we don't take more than we need.

Surely those people who leave half their food must realise they're taking far too much, so why do they do it?

Do they imagine they're in some kind of eating contest? Are they trying to get a bigger and better paunch? Is it some kind of comfort eating? I don't get it.

Careful how you eat. A Liverpool woman dislocated her jaw trying to eat a triple burger

Leftovers

When I'm in a restaurant, I never cease to be amazed at the amount of food some people leave on their plate. I see servers lifting dishes that are still almost full and barely nibbled at.

When I was young, I was conditioned to eat every morsel of food and not waste what starving African children would be glad of. It was almost a crime to leave the smallest particle of edible matter.

So I'm always mystified by those virtually untouched piles of food. Did the diner not like it? Did they not feel hungry? Could they not eat because they were upset about something? Did they not want to look greedy? Do they have anorexia?

I'm fascinated by why someone ordered what they thought was a tasty, mouth-watering meal and then when it arrived at the table they lost all interest and let it sit there congealing.

Does the chef puzzle about it too, wondering whether their cuisine was so disgusting the recipient simply couldn't force it through their lips? Or do they just shrug their shoulders and say for the umpteenth time: "Customers, eh? A total mystery, the lot of them."

If I'm especially hungry, or if my own meal has been seriously skimpy, I'm often tempted to sneak up to the other diner's table and start eating the neglected food myself. I cast longing glances at their loaded plates and have to restrain myself from acting on behalf of ravenous Ethiopians and malnourished Eritreans.

Without fail my own plate is scrupulously cleared of every last titbit. I'd probably lick off the remaining juice if it weren't for the social outrage I'd cause.

The truth of it is I'm just too greedy to leave anything. And anyway, a clean plate is only fair to the washer-upper.

PS: Around 30% of British food ends up being thrown away, one of the highest figures in the world.