Mary Killen

Q. A young man from Oz, the son of a friend of my wife, has been staying for several weeks. He walks into the house and helps himself to a beer or a banana or a toasted cheese sandwich. This is what they do in American soaps, opening the fridge without even saying hello, but

Q. Please can you advise me? I am a bachelor living on my own and I have my shirts ironed by a very nice lady in the village. She does a great job, but I am getting increasingly annoyed as she leaves my shirts hanging in the kitchen and then proceeds to cook a roast

Q. Several years ago I had a well-respected broadsheet editor to stay for the weekend. The house party included another friend who has since become a rising star in the world of politics. Last Sunday, as I leafed my way through the newspapers, I almost choked on my breakfast cereal when I saw a large

Q. My son is on his gap year and travelling around India. While having lunch with a friend she showed me a website on to which her son has posted a blog of his gap year. By the looks of it virtually every 18–19-year-old public schoolchild in the country has done the same. Endless faces

Q. I find myself constantly smarting — for want of a better phrase — from the presumptions of instant matey-ness one encounters in almost every human interchange in English day-to-day life. Why should someone I have never met before address me by my Christian name? Why should the youth from the local garage who has

Q. The tennis coach at our village club was recently coaching one of his young clients. On the next court, one of the club regulars and her new middle-aged male friend were completing a strenuous game. The man suddenly collapsed and the coach, a trained first-aider, identified the symptoms of cardiac arrest and applied the

Q. I am on my gap year and looking for work as a tutor, which I understand is very well paid. The key months for Common Entrance, AS- and A-level revision are almost upon us and, although I have my details up on the noticeboards of various local schools, I have had no inquiries. I

Q. The other day I walked into a local restaurant where I saw two people I usually meet up with each year at a certain house-party. They greeted me with yelps of anticipation and asked was I excited about meeting up again next month. I had to admit that no, I wasn’t excited since our

Q. I am frequently invited to book launches. I always make a point of buying a copy of the book in question and leave the party with every enthusiastic intention of reading it. Yet these books tend to lie about on my coffee table unread, making me feel slightly guilty and embarrassed. I wonder whether,

Q. Last week I had dinner with some old friends in London. My husband was unable to join us since he was working late but came to pick me up at the end of the evening. When he arrived everyone had finished eating but we were all still sitting at the table. When a man

Q. At a recent lunch in an hotel to celebrate my parents’ wedding anniversary, my wife and I found ourselves engaged in animated conversation by our respective neighbours on all manner of interesting topics. However, in their enthusiasm they seemed totally oblivious to our need to deal with our well-behaved but still very young children

Q. Unlike your correspondent J.G. of Bath, I received a prompt and fulsome letter from my 15-year-old godson thanking me for the money I had sent him at Christmas. Unfortunately, this year I had sent no gifts of any kind to any of my godchildren. I did sheepishly admit this to his mother, but she

Q. Is there a tactful way to invite certain favourite old friends to dinner but without their partners? I have no wish to exclude or be cruel to anyone, but I know from personal experience that sometimes people are only too happy to go out separately. My own husband, for example, is delighted to be

Q. When I was a boy men who dyed their greying hair were something of a laughing-stock. Now I notice that many 50- and 60-something politicians, rock stars and television presenters have apparently failed to age in the normal way. I wonder whether I should prepare to follow their lead, Mary, or risk looking past

Q. A friend decided to celebrate her anticipated Christmas bonus by taking a day’s shooting and kindly invited me to be one of the guns. She emailed that most of her other guests were booked into the hotel near the estate for bed and dinner the night before. Would I like to book a room

Q. Six months ago an acquaintance asked me to lunch in the country, apparently to discuss some business she might be able to put my way. I don’t drive and the journey there and back was gruelling, involving taking a tube, then a train and then a mix-up over where we had agreed to rendezvous.

Once again Mary has invited some of her favourite achievers to submit personal queries for her attention. From Lord Marland Q. There are two restaurants in London which I go to very regularly. I have known the staff in both of these for a long time and they always greet me by name. ‘Yes, Mr

Q. In the summer I became engaged to a sweet young thing. We did not wish to announce our good fortune in the newspapers and have not yet set a date for our wedding. As Christmas draws nearer we are wondering to what extent we should combine our cards. Many of my friends are scattered

Q. The convention with regard to tipping in restaurants is that one leaves 10 per cent of the bill and hopes it will go to the staff. The bill, however, includes both hidden VAT on the cost of the meal and a mark-up of 250 per cent or more on the wine. The first is

Q. I attend a small weekly prayer group in my tiny local church. Some mildly personal (not intimate) matters are made topics of prayer. Before the last meeting, being a moderately vain male, I happened to have my hair styled and lightly tinted (my natural colour). Immediately on my leaving the church, the remaining three