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,
Q. We went for lunch over the bank holiday with the parents of one of my son’s schoolfriends. We had hardly talked to them before this. They and their friends were perfectly nice but my problem is that the slightly pushy wife kept photographing us. I am not on social media myself and had no
Q. As a publisher, I have been fortunate to discover an unpublished writer who is the author of some truly remarkable poetry. I have made my selection and want to go ahead with his first collection, but my stumbling block is that he is adamant that, along with the remarkable verses, I must include other
Q. Financially successful friends have kindly invited my husband and me to stay for a week in France. Our problem is that last time we went they asked each couple to post €200 for tips through the hatch of a postbox-style container so they could share out the money appropriately after everyone had left. Named
Q. A great friend is in a terrible state regarding a cat foisted on her by a close relation. She has become very attached to it but it keeps going next door through her neighbour’s cat flap and eating the neighbour’s cats’ food. The neighbour is a high-profile elderly lady who is getting annoyed. My
Q. My brother’s social life has dried up since his divorce (which coincided with the pandemic). So when he received a ‘save the date’ notice to a big mixed-generation party in August, I was happy to think of him catching up with old friends. Now he has been told that the party is to be
Q. I live in the Hampshire countryside, in a lovely apartment where I have the use of an old walled garden which I share with the occupant of the adjacent apartment. My issue is with my neighbour, an elderly eco-warrior. His latest crusade involves building a variety of hedgehog hotels scattered about the garden. My
Q. I am in my mid-sixties and have started to suffer from nominal aphasia. At a recent wedding in the Highlands, two very familiar faces came towards me and I couldn’t put a name to either. Worse, at a wake following a funeral, one old friend was very upset when I failed to recognise her,
Q. My husband has developed an irksome habit whenever he goes abroad without me. We have cameras outside the house which are programmed to alert him by iPhone when anyone comes or goes. As soon as I go into the garden I receive WhatsApp messages commenting on my activities, such as ‘I’m not sure you
Q. These days I am on a tight budget while many of my friends are still able to spend freely. Often when I meet someone for lunch or dinner they eat and drink far more than I do (I am careful to eat only what I can afford) yet they still presume I will be
Q. Rory Sutherland recently wrote about high-end takeaways (Wiki Man, 19 February). In the last London lockdown, I was fortunate to use the Supper app to try a number of gourmet takeaways from places such as Nobu, Coya Mayfair and Park Chinois, spending up to £100 per head. What surprised me, given that someone had
Q. Recently I started hanging out with a new friend. We are both in our twenties, single, and usually go to gatherings and talks downtown. I’m working part-time and studying, she has graduated and is working full-time. We both live in the suburbs, not too close to each other. I drive, she doesn’t, and she
Q. Three weeks ago I banged my head on the lower branch of our near neighbours’ tree, which I couldn’t see from under my peaked cap. I delivered a polite and non-threatening letter explaining that I wasn’t badly hurt and that the branch of their tree overhanging the pavement was a danger they should kindly
Q. As if it wasn’t bad enough to overhear one side of a conversation as it’s bellowed into a mobile telephone, there is now a worse menace on trains and in restaurants. Those using the speaker function for calls are creating intolerable noise pollution because others nearby are forced to overhear both the tinny caller
Q. My partner’s work involves him seeing and talking to people all day, every day. I booked us on to a slightly naff though luxurious 12-night cruise in the Med, thinking this would be the perfect antidote since most of the other passengers will be elderly Americans and we would be bound to know no
Q. My husband and I have made friends with two distinguished, although fairly eccentric, writers whose company we thoroughly enjoy. However when we go to stay with them in their large London house they give us rather too many jobs to do. Of course we don’t mind helping out with food preparation, dishwashers, laying tables
Q. I treat myself to a manicure every ten days. It’s a 30-minute appointment and the girl I use is always fully booked. I turned up — punctual as always — for my appointment this week to be told that the client before me had been stuck in traffic and so my manicurist was ‘running
Q. A long-standing artist friend, whose work now commands high prices, has sent me out of the blue a present of one of her paintings. She clearly didn’t realise after all these years that, although I have always been immensely fond of her, I have never been a fan of her work. I am grateful
Q. My cleaner is industrious and trustworthy but she doesn’t have many people to talk to and evidently looks forward to her shifts as social occasions. She loves having a captive audience (my brother and I are currently WFH) and her conversation consists mainly of complaints, so it’s never a fun chat. It’s generally a
