Q. I know it is rude to ask, when invited to a dinner party, ‘who else is coming?’ I assumed, therefore, that it would have been equally churlish to ask, when invited to a private piano recital to be staged in the garden of a large country house, ‘what is the repertoire?’ And so I just accepted. Now I am dreading being served up, for example, one of the atonal later works of Schoenberg or Webern, which would be torture to me. What to do if this happens again?
— Name and address withheld
A. The best line to take is to immediately gush that you would have loved to come but you are busy that day. It is then fine to enquire about the repertoire. If it meets with your approval, ring back five minutes later to say you find you are free after all. Note, however, that even if much of an audience is united in disapproval at such a private event, that is still a good social outcome vis à vis bonding afterwards.
Q. A friend in London urges my husband and me to start socialising with friends of hers who have moved in locally. She claims they are tremendous fun and that we have so much in common we will get on like a house on fire. Our problem is that these people live uncomfortably close and we would not want to start seeing a lot of them. It sounds very jaded but our books are full. Moreover, although we should be grateful, we cannot help feeling illogically threatened by the thought of suddenly having ‘soulmates’ on our doorstep. Your thoughts, Mary?
— Name and address withheld
A. It is only natural to feel threatened by the arrival in one’s territory of a couple who may be judged ‘better value’ than you are yourselves.
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