Q. Following a small dinner last night in a private house, I got home to find £300 missing from my handbag, which I’d left in the kitchen while we ate in a dining room. There were only eight guests, all of whom I’ve known for decades, and a loyal housekeeper who has worked for my
Q. I invited four younger colleagues, all in their mid to late thirties, to go for a meal at a rather special venue. I first invited A and B, who were sitting together at the time, then C and D, who were also sitting together. On the day, A and C arrived, expressing great enthusiasm and
Q. I live in a houseshare with two other people; one of whom I am very fond of and the other, not so much. She lies and cheats and is a terrible friend. She is a social climber extraordinaire who has abandoned her real friends. My other housemate is of the same opinion. The lease
Q. My husband and I were among the first to arrive at a recent large house party in Scotland. We were shown to our bedroom at the far end of a corridor and told that the occupants of the other rooms were not expected till the next day. We were tired after a day’s travelling
Q. Good friends, who moved away from our city suburb a couple of years ago, retain a pied-à-terre the better to pursue their sensitive professional lives. They are, however, not entitled to parking permits for themselves or their morning visitors, so for some time we have been passing on to them extra parking permits. When
Q. My husband doesn’t wash his hands after spending a penny and he doesn’t wash his hands after ‘spending tuppence’, as my grandmother put it, either. I know this as he uses the downstairs gents while I am hard by in the kitchen and I can monitor all the appropriate liquid sounds. When I was
Q. My wife’s much younger sister is lazy and impossible. She forgets birthdays, is invariably late, lets people down and seems to think it’s all a laugh. Examples: forgetting to put the Christmas lunch in to cook so we had to wait four hours for what turned into a very poor evening meal. Informing us
Q. A dear friend of my husband, a shy bachelor, is an acquired taste. Once you acquire it you are addicted, but he can make a bad impression on first meeting. This is because he normally always has dried food or some other kind of detritus which seems to collect around the corners of his
Q. A long-standing friend has an admirer of some means. He has invited her to borrow his fully staffed and equipped yacht and entertain a selection of guests, including myself, while we sail around the Med. I’ve become somewhat addicted to luxury and I’ve been so looking forward to this for weeks. I imagined myself
Q. I’ve accepted an invitation to stay in a small house party in France. My host hasn’t mentioned who else is coming. He is an old friend but he has a number of other male friends, each representing a different facet of his personality. My worry is that, should I arrive to find one of
Q. A close friend is an elderly writer who has contributed, as a monthly columnist, to the same publication for many years. His powers are undimmed. However, he has not moved with the times and will not self-edit. I have had it from a mole that the much younger sub-editors on the magazine, one of
Q. Being professionals in trade, we find ourselves increasingly being asked by friends, who could well afford to use our services, how to achieve certain things. They know we depend on these skills — which have taken years to learn and perfect — for our livelihood. What do you suggest is the best way to
Q. Is there a tactful way to ask people with whom you’ve been interacting on an almost daily basis over two or more years, what their names are? This couple are neighbours and our dogs play together in the park each week. I wasn’t listening when they first introduced themselves and now I’ve got no
Q. My father has worked pro bono for many years on the advisory board of a certain company with a long established reputation for gentlemanly values. When a new chief executive was appointed, he rang to offer his congratulations and to introduce himself but the assistant who took his call had to ask him to
Q. I work at a desk by a window which looks out on to the street where I live. I am disturbed by the sight of the same Englishman strolling past the window innumerable times per day. I know most of my neighbours and he is not one of them. Who is he? I can’t
Q. We often take friends to what my husband calls a ‘poncey’ pub which has won numerous awards and where the atmosphere is absurdly reverential. Despite its upmarket reputation, the pub serves peculiarly large portions and, intimidated by the waiters, I feel obliged to eat it all. I don’t want to ask if I can
Q. I have incurable, inoperable back pain that severely hinders my ability to sit and necessitates my taking a cushion wherever I go. Many, I believe, view this as a sartorial eccentricity. I have two issues: how can I politely — or even humorously — deter people I meet from probing my medical history and
Q. My 50th birthday is looming and I am hosting a small dinner in a restaurant. This has proved challenging as I have at least 40 people I like but can only ask 25. However, of those I have already asked, ten are still hedging with ten days to go. If these A-listers would just
Q. When buying a present for a friend, I would not dream of glugging from the bottle or helping myself to a chocolate. But when it comes to books, I am guilty of reading the first few pages from curiosity — then sailing on through to the end. I am scrupulous about not leaving dirty
Q. An acquaintance, whom I admire but don’t know well, sent me a ‘begging’ letter to donate to a charity close to her heart. It’s the kind of charity I like (it does good, is small and slightly obscure) and so I set up a direct debit to send it a modest amount each month.