Mary Killen

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 lying on a lounger throughout, but I’ve now heard of a late addition to the line-up. My friend has confused good with good value and has misguidedly invited a man who has been immensely helpful in a professional capacity to some of those who will be on board. But I’ve been in a group with him before and he never draws breath. He will talk the whole way through this holiday, so being trapped on a boat with him means the break will not be restful.

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 his rather boorish friends there, then my own, very subtle relationship with our host could be rendered surplus to requirements. I could make the analogy of light vs heavy artillery. What should I do if so?— Name and address withheld A. Turn both possible outcomes to your advantage. Should you arrive to find a boor in situ, then don’t bother to compete, just treat the holiday as a sunshine break and an opportunity to catch up on reading.

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 whom wants to write the column herself, are claiming to resent the time they must spend ‘correcting’ his offensive copy. I’ve told him this but he is stubborn and says he refuses to be gagged. We all know the power of presenteeism — these people are in the office, he is not and I worry they will get him sacked.

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 put them in their place and, without being overtly rude, avoid these situations? — Name and address withheld A. Try something along these lines. Wearing an affectionate smile, respond to their opening gambit of ‘Can I pick your brains…?’ by saying: ‘That should be the title of my autobiography! Do you know, you’re the third friend to ask me that today?

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 way of finding out, as I don’t know any of the other neighbours. Twice in the park friends have come along and introduced themselves to the couple, but they have never volunteered their own names other than saying ‘We’re Tommy’s parents.’ (Tommy being their dog.) What should I do? — Name and address withheld A. Use this as an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Buy a will-writing kit from WHSmith and ask the couple to witness it.

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 spell his name so she could take a message. When he explained that he was on the board of advisors, the assistant replied that she had no record of him, and she thought the new executive would be ‘getting in his own advisors’. This turns out to have been the case and my father’s telephone call was not returned, nor has he heard anything by way of ‘thank you for your help over the years’ even by telephone.

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 take away any leftovers in a doggy bag. Can you think of a way in which I can collect the food without embarrassment or, indeed, giving offence to the chef? — Name and address withheld A. Simply order a bag of crisps with your first drink as you are choosing from the menu. Eat them. Such a receptacle is lined with a type of foil and is ideal to use as a pop-up doggy bag. Q. Later this year I am going to a wedding weekend in the south of France.

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 offering their own treatment advice (‘Have you tried Pilates?’ ‘You must meet my cranial osteopath!’)? Conversely, a close friend recently dismissed my condition as akin to his bone-idle, sponging girlfriend’s ‘leg problem’ (‘It’s ethereal and comes and goes’). I don’t wish to be a figure of pity, but nor do I want to be seen as a foppish malingerer. Is there any way to elegantly tread the line?

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 admit they’re unable to come, I could ask people from my B-list. How can I pin down the flaky non-committers? — O.A., London SW6 A. Email the hedgers a photo of the menu saying the restaurant is asking you to firm up orders. Could they specify their preference in the way of fish, meat or vegan? This will force the slackards to show their hands. Q. Yesterday I was sent a beautiful bunch of flowers, anonymously.

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 thumbprints, but as I tie a ribbon around the wrapping paper I am nagged by the feeling that I have done wrong. Have I? — L.F., 3ème, Paris A. Technically a present should not be ‘pre-used’ but it’s different in the world of letters. A book should never be an impersonal present but one which is chosen to chime with the personality and intellectual abilities of the recipient. Therefore it is almost essential that the giver should be au fait with the contents.

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. In her letter she suggested a donation be either sent to her or straight to the charity but that I should let her know so that she could thank me. Annoyingly, I was typically disorganised and I didn’t email her back straight away to say I had done it. It’s now been a couple of months. It feels odd to email her for thanks but I also don’t want her to think I’ve ignored her letter. — D.M., Shropshire A. Email her now. Copy in the charity’s administrators.

Q. My husband and I are excited to have been invited to dinner by our most important neighbour. However our neighbour is fairly correct so I imagine it will go down like a lead balloon if I ask for his wifi code as soon as I walk in. The problem is that now I own a smartphone, everyone knows I’m accessible at all times, and I like to discreetly glance at my emails to reassure myself that there is nothing urgent. Should I pop in earlier in the day with flowers and ask for the code then? — S.C., Tetbury A. I fear you are out of date. Your emails will continue to flood in as normal without your host’s wifi code. The only reason to need it would be if staying overnight and, for example, wanting to download expensive content without using your data allowance.

Q. We were about to send off to the printers the invitation for our son’s wedding (we agreed to do this bit) but now the prospective in-laws are asking for the use of the word ‘with’, as in ‘You are invited to the marriage of Lady X with Mr Y’. We have noticed that ‘with’ is used in the marriage invitation of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle and understand that it conveys the implication that one party (the first named) is socially superior to the other. What should we think? — Name and address withheld A. My most highly placed observer declares that ‘This is a highly royal usage which it would be common for a commoner to imitate.

Q. Along with five of my favourite people, I’ve been invited again to what should be an idyllic house party in Scotland this summer. The house, the landscape, the food and the sport could not be better, and our mutual friend is a brilliant host capable of great empathy and wit — 99 per cent of the time. However it is the 1 per cent risk of a glitch that is making me, and the others, wary of accepting. We discover that each one of us has, while staying in this house party, incurred the anger of our host and received a humiliating dressing-down for a very minor misdemeanour.

Q. A couple who live directly opposite us in London have sent a save-the-date notice for a big party they are giving in a few months time. We like these neighbours, despite the fact that they are absurdly grand and snobbish, but we find their big parties exhausting and neither of us wants to go. How can we possibly get out of it, Mary? We can’t claim to have a prior appointment because we didn’t answer immediately. There is also an important sporting fixture on telly on the same evening that we both want to watch, and our neighbours, who can see directly into our house, will be in no doubt that we are in. — Name and address withheld A. Accept the invitation. About two days before, scan the death column of the Times.

Q. Recently, during a stay in a luxurious mountain hotel in Italy, and having hurt my knee skiing, I was reading The Spectator in the library. I was alone in peace, thinking how wonderful the world is, when a man came in with his mobile, stretched out on a nearby sofa, and proceeded to engage in a long, loud phone call in German. I left the library after 20 minutes of mounting rage, for the peace of my bedroom. What should I have done? — S.F., a quiet-mannered Englishwoman abroad A. There are two ways you might have countered this breach of civility. One, by using your own mobile to record a snatch of the diatribe, then playing it back within his earshot. This would have unnerved and swiftly silenced the offender.

Q. How does one avoid power handshakes? Twenty-five years of wicket-keeping have left me with pathetically fragile knuckles, and each greeting (especially from bold young men keen to show just how ‘firm’ their grip is) brings the risk of crunching fingers and cracking bones. The pain can rule out my other hobby — playing keyboards in a band — for a couple of weeks. But it would seem terribly rude to refuse to shake someone’s hand. What do you suggest? — C.F., Hinton Ampner, Hants A. You should sidestep the usual full-hand shake which juxtaposes both ‘handpits’ between thumb and index fingers. Instead deftly grab only the fingertips of the power shaker.

Q. Recently I held a party at which some people were meeting each other for the first time. One social-climbing couple, who I do not know well and invited only to pay them back for their own recent party, subsequently emailed to ask for the contact details of the most influential and elevated of my acquaintance. I resisted replying, but then they emailed again suggesting that they hold a dinner and invite my social lions, along with my husband and myself. I am feeling somewhat under siege, as well as mildly outraged. But I know that if some friends I knew better (and liked more) had asked for the same details, I would have handed them over without a murmur. What should I do? — Besieged, Derbyshire A.

Q. For some time I have been spoiled by paying a small rent for a central flat belonging to absentee friends of my parents. Unfortunately it is a two-bedroom flat and the owners have just moved another lodger in. She is nice but ill-informed and, frankly, thick. Even ordinary non-challenging conversations about domestic issues are frustrating because she’s so slow on the uptake. I realise as I write this that I sound like an entitled brat but I work in finance and am shattered when I get back; I don’t have the mental energy to talk to someone who wants me to explain everything twice. I feel I should have had a say in who was moved in.