Q. A friend has asked me to a small birthday dinner, but she has also, unwittingly, asked a man with whom I have an embarrassing issue. In a nutshell, he invited me on a date and then didn’t call on the day or since. I have met someone else so I am not bitter. But
Q. How, without causing offence, can you stop someone sitting next to you on an aeroplane or train from talking to you all the way through the journey? I find this often happens to me, and once you engage it is hard to bring the conversation to a close. I count on these journeys as
Q. When our daughter, who has a wheat allergy, comes up to stay for weekends or hols with her husband and children, my wife takes a lot of trouble ordering wheat-free loaves from a special source in our nearby town. These are then collected by my wife and pointed out to all present as being
Q. Recently my wife and I received a thank you letter from ‘John and Kate’ giving an address in Pimlico. They wrote to thank us for a picture of roses that ‘we’ had given them for a wedding present. My mother-in-law painted beautifully and often chose roses. My wife and I racked our brains to
Q. We have a friend in her late sixties who has been a widow for ten years. Over that period of time we have asked her to many social occasions at our home. She has never asked us to her house. It’s reached a stage where we are starting to feel that maybe we shouldn’t
Q. How should one discourage a fellow diner from helping himself too greedily from a dish you are enjoying yourself? A writer friend invited me to lunch in the River Room at the Savoy Hotel. The treat was only marred when the pudding course arrived: ‘opalys white chocolate jelly sphere’. This was a thin chocolate
Q. A close neighbour has a two-car garage that occupies her entire street frontage. However, she has developed a habit of parking her car outside my house so that I then have to park way up the street (I only have one car). When her many children visit, they also park in front of my
Q. After a beach picnic in Denmark two girlfriends and I went for a walk in the dunes. Returning along the beach we found we had to cross a naturist section. A man made it clear that we must conform and so we did, feeling rather foolish carrying our bikinis — but we had nowhere
Q. My nice young London terrace neighbour, whose total rebuilding works are eight months old now, with plenty still to go, has mailed me to express the hope that the last few months have not been too painful. How can I let him know about the constant noise, dirt and dust, the wafting Polish cigarette
Q. How can I tell a new young colleague that he needs to wash? He and I share an office and he is exceptionally nice but the smell in our shared quarters is sickening. What do you advise? — E.C., Oxford A. Try this method which has resolved the same problem for others. Say to
Once again Mary has invited some of her favourite figures in the public eye to submit personal queries for her attention. From the Rt Hon Michael Gove MP Q. Without his parents quite knowing why, our seven-year-old son has become fanatical about football. I have tried to channel this enthusiasm in a positive way, booking
Q. In my late fifties, I find myself, in the run-up to Christmas this year, going to social events and meeting up with contemporaries some of whom I have not seen for years. I have always been bad at recognising people but I notice that some now seem quite offended. They are taking it wrongly
Q. Coming across a secluded pool while walking in the Picos in Spain on a very hot day we had an exhilarating skinny-dip, followed by some rather silly antics for forty-somethings. By chance a couple we know but detest (the husband is always ogling me) were staying in the same hotel. Since our return he
Q. Is it on to invite friends to a birthday dinner and, with no pre-arrangement, expect them to fork out for their meal? An acquaintance — let’s call him Ralphie — has done this for years. Responding to his always effusive invitation (‘I’d really like YOU to be there’), one arrives bearing a gift and,
Q. I believe there is a recent trend among very well-brought-up people to attempt to alleviate the impression of elitism that their impeccable manners may provoke by putting their feet in places where they should not be. When I was in London just before the election, I noticed a picture of Mr Cameron sitting in
Q. In the event of the expected death of a dear friend, I have been asked to organise the funeral. I have no idea which newspaper I should put the announcement in. Each death notice costs about £60, so if I were to do the Times, Telegraph, Guardian and Independent, it would all mount up,
Q. I appear in a reality television show — perhaps unreality would be a more accurate description. The erroneous impression that I am fabulously rich has been so well conveyed that, when having dinner with new acquaintances, I sense a certain anticipation that I will be happy to pick up the bill. Most of my
Q. I was caught out last week during dinner. The guest on my left was droning on at length and I had tuned in to a more interesting conversation down the other end of the table when to my horror he suddenly said, ‘Sorry… I lost my train of thought. What was I talking about?’
Q. My wife and I both work from home. We happen to have three friends called Sue, all of whom ring up on a regular basis. On the telephone they all sound identical, and so when one of them rings to speak to my wife I struggle to find a tactful way of identifying which
Q. I live in a two-bedroom flat. It is not spacious but happens to be in the centre of Mayfair. By and large I welcome overnight guests. However, among their number is a couple who were essentially friends of my former girlfriend rather than me but who have become used to the convenience of the