Dear Mary

Q. I wonder what is the correct etiquette when one notices that a friend has something unattractive and highly visible in their nostril? I have a bit of a phobia about this. Obviously, one can be straightforward if it is a close friend, but I am shortly taking a house in Trebetherick for the John Betjeman centenary celebrations, and we’ll be with a gang of people I don’t know very well. I have noticed that the problem is always much worse when people are in and out of the sea. T.M., London W8 A. You are correct. Incompletely evacuated sea-water seems to promote the generation of veritable bouquets of nasal detritus. The best way to deal with this phobia is to carry a TweezerMate 12 times magnification pocket mirror, available from Boots for £12.

Q. I have a small problem with vanity. I have made a successful application to join a specialist library where I can work in peace almost every day of the week and have access to an unrivalled set of references on my subject. I am aware that this is a privilege. However, because of the rarity of the collection, members are required to carry at all times photo ID, supplied by the library itself using its own machine to take the photograph. These famously unflattering photographs are sealed permanently into tamper-proof lamination, and updated only every seven years.

Q. I read your ‘In the Chair’ Q&As in the online edition of The Spectator with interest. In this session you mentioned a dilemma of your own. You told of how your own good manners had once been compromised by your reluctance to dilute a conversation with the great Auberon Waugh by having to introduce hovering friends. I have a similar problem at parties. I am a close friend of an internationally famous actor. Occasionally we meet up at semi-public events, but I am never able to exchange more than a couple of sentences with him before a host of people, some of whom I hardly know, are queueing up on the pretext of wanting to talk to me, but really so I can introduce them to him. How can I get ‘quality time’ with my friend on these sorts of occasions?

Q. Your correspondent (1 July), who was asked to pay towards a dinner to which he had been invited as a guest, has the opposite problem to my own. Whenever I have lunch with a much-loved friend, he pays for it. He is not wealthy and I would like to reciprocate his hospitality but he makes it impossible, either by insisting on going to venues where he can leave his credit card at the door or to his club where only he is allowed to pay. Although I crave this friend’s company, his reluctance to let me treat him, to say nothing of the guilt that I feel knowing his wife must find this reckless spending unsettling, means that I am seeing much less of him than I would like. How can I square things with my conscience so that I can see as much of him as possible? Name and address withheld A.

Q. Parents of one of our son’s best friends at school are famous for their tightness. The father makes ‘funny money’ in the City, but they often invite people to their house in Devon, then suggest the guests take them out to restaurants as the mother ‘can’t face’ cooking. They are people my wife and I do not usually see outside of school functions but they recently prevailed upon us to put them up for membership of a certain exclusive club. Because of our sons’ friendship we did so. The desired result having been achieved, the couple rang to thank us and say, ‘We must take you out to dinner.’ My wife and I were delighted to accept their invitation to one of the most expensive restaurants in town.

Q. One of my husband’s best friends is married to someone who, we know from past experience, is too demanding and controlling to be good company at a house party.  The couple often go their separate ways on holiday and might well not object if he were to come without her to our house in France — but it seems a bit crude to invite him to come on his own. Can you suggest a tactful way in which we can get him alone?  Name and address withheld A. Go through the list of fellow guests you might also invite. Choose someone Mr P has never met — let’s call him Harry. Ring up the Ps to say you are longing to introduce them to Harry, so can they go through their diaries to see which week they are both free? You will get Harry to do the same.

Q. I recently celebrated my CP (civil partnership), having been with my boyfriend for almost 21 years. I had planned it for months and arranged a flamenco evening at a smart venue in St James’s in London. We were restricted by the number of people we could ask, so I expected that all those who RSVPd in the positive would definitely show up. Can you imagine how disappointed I was when several people didn’t show up? Some had illnesses, and I could fully understand those, but one or two had lame excuses about baby-sitters and missing a train. Should I forgive them, as not only did I have to pay for them but I could have asked someone else in their place? What do you think, Mary?M.K., Mildenhall, Wilts A.

Q. Recently visiting the city where a niece of whom I am very fond is in her final year as an undergraduate, I asked if she would like to meet for lunch or a coffee. I was taken aback and a little hurt to be told that, as she would have been celebrating handing in her dissertation the previous evening, she expected to have a hangover and did not therefore feel up to accepting my invitation. To my surprise, my sister-in-law, who had been consulted on the matter, encouraged her to take this approach. How should I have responded? Disinheritance seems excessive, but how should I have conveyed to my niece my view that she was both impolite and a bit of a wimp?Name and address withheld A.

Q. A colleague and friend and I have been particularly close since she ‘saved my life’ ten years ago, having arranged help for me during a medical emergency. But since my retirement a year and a half ago, my attempts to meet for lunch have been fruitless, the last time particularly upsetting when she slept through our arranged noontime rendezvous. My feeble attempts to remind her of her promise to make it up by regularly forwarding humorous emails were brusquely rebuffed with a singular response several months ago, with no contact since. Now out of the blue I’ve received — surely at my friend’s guidance — an invitation to her daughter’s graduation at a prestigious university hundreds of miles away.

Q. Returning from a trade fair held at a neighbouring stately home I was reminded of the apophthegm ‘a fool and his money are soon parted’. Before my visit I thought a trade fair was full of dusty men with brawny arms selling exotic tools such as adzes, bradawls and drill braces. This, however, was the County female contingent prepared — as vendors at various bric-à-brac stalls — to embark on a discursive rambling gossip with any customer. These conversations were of such detail and duration that my wife, who is generally reliable in stores and shops, found it impossible to move on without making a purchase (in the same way that return invitations are issued by guests leaving a dinner party).

Q. We have lived in a very nice, civilised square in south London for nearly 20 years. It’s surprisingly private and everyone gets on well. One of our neighbours is an eminent Liberal Democrat peer of the realm. Unfortunately his wife and he persist in aggressively canvassing and leafleting our neighbours and us, even though they know that I have belonged to the Conservative party since before the Liberal Democrats were even formed. I would never consider canvassing their household and I consider this macho flaunting of their political affiliations to be bad form, and actually rather rude. Can you tell me how I can make this plain to them without seeming rude in return?Name and address withheldA.

Q. I think I can offer you a solution to a problem which may plague others who spend intimate time with oenophiles and are driven to distraction by slurping. My brother is a mad wine-lover. He slurps his wine noisily. He is a physicist, and seems to be keen to prove that he can defy the laws of gravity by causing liquids to travel upwards rather than downwards. I have managed to persuade him of what I think is perfectly true: that in the case of an older vintage, one tottering on its last legs, the fact is that if it is slurped, the oxygenation caused by the slurping causes the delicate wine to lose its last grasp on life. Whereas, when sipped with great delicacy and minimal intake of air, as normal people drink anything, a great deal more of the wine’s flavour comes through. B.T.

Dear Mary... Q. I am shortly to give lunch to a number of high-profile people. Two of them have rung to inquire how late they can leave it before giving me a yes or a no. Do you agree with me that this behaviour, with its assumption that a better invitation may come along in the meantime, is outrageously rude?M.W., Wiltshire A. On the contrary. These days only the retired and low-profile can state with certainty whether they will definitely be available on a certain date. It is an unfortunate fact that the very reason why certain modern people are 'high-profile' is their ruthless insistence on flexibility where social arrangements are concerned.

Dear Mary... Q. I am a consultant to, and former partner of, a professional firm in the suburbs of London, where I do four days a week working in an extraordinarily happy and democratic environment with political incorrectness to the fore. A problem has arisen of a very delicate nature, where it has been alleged that a newly employed secretary – who is extremely popular, hardworking and efficient – suffers from the dreaded BO. How on earth does one address this issue, if at all?M.W., Gillingham, Dorset A. To deal with this problem, you must recruit two volunteers without ego problems from within the office.

Dear Mary... Q. My husband's 87-year-old father is greatly enjoying the Iraq war. With an understandable sense of personal invulnerability, he has been sitting in his 'safe house' in Cornwall, watching virtually every news bulletin and revelling in 'the deep satisfaction of seeing rockets hitting their targets', et cetera. We are taking our children, aged 9, 11 and l3, to stay with him for Easter. The house is not particularly big, but he has told us that all normal decorum will be suspended for the duration of the war, so he will have the television on nonstop in the one small sitting-room. Since he is deaf, it will be blaring away. How can we avoid being subjected to this harrowing coverage, which will traumatise our children as well as sickening and boring us?

Q. The person with whom I used to march, before he had to sell up, is hostile to my plan to allow wind turbines on my land. He still lives nearby and his view will be affected. He is utterly opposed on environmental grounds — the noise, the despoilation of the skyline, the fact that wind turbines do not actually save energy but just allow boxes to be ticked... I agree with him on all counts but unfortunately I am not in a financial position to resist a life-changing sum of money for doing nothing. We have been friends all our lives, and our parents and grandparents before us. Mary, how can I mend fences? —Name and address withheld. A.