Mary Killen

Q. I would like to matchmake two singleton neighbours. They have absolutely everything in common, except their social class and their politics, but they are in the same line of work and both enjoy the same fairly unusual hobby. I know they would adore each other. In order to introduce them – do you advise

Q. As a radio producer one of the most infuriating – and surprisingly common – things people ask is: ‘When will you be a presenter?’ Can you help with a withering response that lets them know I don’t feel like a failure, but have willingly chosen a completely different job? — M.G., London SE1 A.

Q. I have a hatred of paper napkins – eating outside, they blow away; inside, people drop them on the floor and my dogs chew them, making a horrid mess. I love the old-fashioned way of giving weekend guests napkin rings but our friends tend to drink too much and can’t remember which is theirs!

Q. My brother, who lives in southern France, uses unsavoury words to gain my attention, such as ‘infernal swine’, ‘schweinhund’ and ‘w****r’. Being somewhat genteel myself, I am reluctant to engage in verbal fisticuffs across the ocean. His literary aspirations, I believe, may have topped off with the Biggles compendium. What strategy, Mary, would you

Q. I am at the stage of my life where I am often sending presents to newborn babies. These presents are almost never acknowledged: the parents believe they will get round to posting me a handwritten letter, complete with a picture of the child in the outfit or under the mobile or reading the book

Q. As a novice user of Instagram I was flattered at how quickly I gathered followers – 200 already. Many of these are old friends of 40 years or more who I never get to see, partly because my circumstances have changed – very much for the better – and I have moved out of

Q. I shall be spending more time in the company of newer acquaintances in the West Country and would appreciate your advice with regard to a resurfacing problem: narcolepsy. The condition is the source of much embarrassment and I find myself at pains to explain it upfront. (People may infer spurious connections due to limited

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 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).