Q. We have been invited to a small but formal dinner in the presence of someone who has been a lifelong hero to my husband. Tragically, my husband has developed anxieties about bladder control in high-level social situations where there may be difficulty accessing a loo. Hence he wants me to refuse this prized invitation.
Q. The Queen had the knack of making you feel that you were the only person in the room. At parties I find a few friends are listening to other people’s conversations as they listen to you, and give themselves away by interjecting a sudden response to the other conversation. Mary, what could I say
Q. We have made available our mews cottage – 30 yards from our main house – to a woman with small children, who has had a tough time recently through no fault of her own. She will be staying pending her divorce. Our problem is that she keeps asking us to dinner. We like her
Q. I have had an email inviting me to an old girls’ reunion, class of 1976. The organiser suggested we ‘reply all’ so that everyone could see who else was able to attend. Now I have had no fewer than four super-excited emails from other old girls saying they can’t wait till the reunion, so
Q. How can I find out, without making things awkward, whether one of my close male friends fancies one of my close female friends? They have known each other for years but until recently were both in long-term relationships. Now she has developed a major crush on him. Is there a way I could help
Q. Some older American friends take me and my husband out to dinner once a year when they are over in London. They are very old-school and it’s always a gastronomic feast. Last autumn – and I’ve been mulling this over in my head since then – we went to one of London’s best hotels,
Q. My 74-year-old husband was having drinks in the garden of some young clients when he bit down on an olive with a huge stone in the middle. He heard a crack and picked the stone out of his mouth – along with what he thought was a splinter of tooth – and threw the
Q. My parents are abroad for two months and as my flatmates in London are all, like me, working from home, I’ve moved to their country cottage to get some peace. This is an idyllic and very community-based village but one unforeseen problem has arisen. The house is at the end of a cul-de-sac lane
Q. Everyone was divine at a very jolly lunch I attended in the Cotswolds with the exception of one person, who everyone else seems to know and like, but about whom I have always had a mild phobia. Fortunately I didn’t have to sit anywhere near him but when I wrote to my host he
Q. I was billeted for a party in Norfolk with a couple previously unknown to me. They were more than welcoming but quite formal – hence I felt awkward about asking them if they could change a £50 note so I could leave £10 for their cleaner (it was all I had in my wallet).
Q. I have found parties frustrating this month because they have been too crowded. Is there a polite way to get through a really packed event without stopping to talk to any number of people you know and like and have things to say to, when someone you particularly want to talk to is at
Q. This year once again my company took a small group of clients to lunch at Royal Ascot. Our guests included a couple of former clients we asked along for old times’ sake. These have both written not only to thank us but to say we can count them in for next year’s lunch as
Q. I have heard news of a forthcoming party which I would really love to attend. The problem is that the party is being given by a man I have met on a handful of occasions, during which we always got on like a house on fire. Unfortunately we twice left the ball in my
Q. My girlfriend and I have started using a personal trainer for some joint sessions at our local gym; the sessions are generally very good and we are really enjoying them. The issue is that the trainer spends quite a lot of the time on his mobile phone and it often distracts him from what
Q. A close friend, who has lost most of her income in recent years, has done something disfiguring to a front tooth – it looks as if she’s used Polyfilla to repair it herself. She tries to never smile so no one will see, but sadly it is highly visible. I’d be happy to pay
Q. As a mildly famous professional cook, I agreed to judge a children’s cake-baking competition at the summer fête of the tiny village I have just moved to. Subsequent conversations have worried me as I have learnt that the parents of these under-tens are taking the competition very seriously. It’s clear that the awarding of
Q. In order to raise money for a worthwhile cause, I have agreed to open my garden for the first time and provide a sit-down lunch for 30. My problem is that there are certain local people who I really don’t want to come and snoop around, but I fear that once they see the
Q. My wife’s father, who she adored, has died and she is to be his sole beneficiary. She intends to import a mass of low-grade ‘ornaments’ and unappealing furniture into our home. I’m afraid these things will, to be blunt, lower the tone of the house I inherited myself. I am fairly well-known in the
Q. I’m 28 and lucky enough to own a four-bed house in Notting Hill. I let three of the rooms to friends. One of these now has her boyfriend over regularly. It was fine when he just stayed the night occasionally but he is now omnipresent and even brings his dirty washing over. The boyfriend
Q. Some years ago, much to the surprise of our many friends in London, my husband and I moved to a remote village in Wales. We have never regretted it and often enthused to others about the area. Now we have been taken by surprise since two friends have bought a house in our village,
