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Location and 'the moment' do play a part. It's not all bad. A very fond memory is my partner and I in Cadgwith Cove on the Lizard Peninsular in Cornwall one summer, buying sandwiches stuffed full of freshly caught local crab from a woman in a little wooden shack, taking them and eating them while sitting on rocks with clear water lapping around us, yards from where the crabs were caught - wonderful. But it's pretty specific. And is not unrelated to your friends-in-the-garden thing. I'm thinking more of the generic "restaurant with tables outside" thing that people seem to automatically think must be better than eating indoors.
From the cool shaded interior of a restaurant in Kingston last summer I watched this bloke on an outside table, by the river of course, POURING with sweat under the sun, flapping his hand at flies and other river insects and sipping what had been a refreshing iced drink but was now lukewarm slop, barely avoiding being brushed against by towpath walkers. And it summed up everything I detest about the experience.