Etiquette

A friend of a friend hosted an engagement party in a London hotel. Invitations had gone out six weeks beforehand, and no expense was spared. They had planned it to be an ultra lavish event to please even the most critical and spoiled of their friends. However, between the hours of 4 p.m. and 7 p.m. on the day of the party, 30 of the 100 guests who had accepted suddenly cancelled. The bride and groom are in their fifties, so surely their friends should be old enough to know better? What can an ordinary, non-super-rich person like me expect the turnout to be for my own forthcoming engagement party? I’m planning to hold it next year. (I’m in my thirties.) — L.D., Wokingham, Berkshire A.

Q. As an artist I’m indebted to my sponsor. I also like him, but not his habit of ringing me up when he has friends in the room, asking me to describe, for example, a party I’ve recently been to and then putting me on loudspeaker. It’s a good thing that he considers me to be entertaining, but I draw the line at being required to act the stand-up comic to an invisible (even if appreciative) audience. My mother says ‘he who pays the piper calls the tune’. Can you rule Mary? — Name and address withheld A. You are not a human jukebox available to churn out anecdotes on demand. Your sponsor is, at best, insensitive to require this.

Q. Living in a large house in the country within striking distance of a motorway, we get a lot of people calling in on their way elsewhere. We love it. We are particularly glad to see one busy and successful friend who is often passing and also needs a bed. The problem is he is a commitment-phobe and leaves his plans until the very last minute. He lives alone and hasn’t any idea of how a large household is run and often won’t reveal whether he will make, say, Sunday lunch until 11 that morning — usually with a breezy ‘Don’t worry about me.’ Of course, he arrives at 12.30 and eats like a horse. Once here, he is a very easy guest and always touchingly grateful, but clean sheets and Sunday lunch need more than two hours’ notice.

My partner has become a recycling fascist. She checks everything I put into the bin. I received two bollockings today alone — the first at breakfast because I did not make a distinction between the top of my small bottle of Actimel (non-recyclable) and the bottle (recyclable). I do try to do my best, but is it time for her to be recycled? I can’t go on like this. — Name withheld, Hampshire A. First bear in mind that your best will never be good enough. The booby-trap potential is too great for anyone who hasn’t had the time or inclination to mug up on all the complex requirements for correct recycling. Then be aware that your partner is almost certainly secretly dependent on your inevitable blunders as they give her the opportunity to let off steam.

Q. I’ve listened to the radio to deal with insomnia for years (Dear Mary, 18 February) and your suggestion of single earphones does not work well. They hurt your ear — when they haven’t fallen out of it. The answer is either a Roberts Radio Pillow Talk speaker (flat, sits under pillow, clearly audible through pillow) or a Sound Asleep Speaker Pillow (haven’t tried myself but has 49 good reviews on sleepypeople.com). Both cost £14.99.—F.C., Newbury. A. Thank you for sharing your findings. Q. Our 15-year-old daughter has, on paper, nothing to complain about. We both love her passionately and have only her best interests at heart. Moreover, we live in some luxury in the heart of a district of London considered cool by teenagers.

Q. A (very attractive) man I knew at university invited me to a party given by him and his girlfriend. When I got there I found the girlfriend has reinvented herself as a hat designer and there was a pop-up shop at the party. I was bullied into buying one even though, patently, none of them suited me. Because of the social nature of the event I was embarrassed into pretending I thought it was wonderful and I shelled out a lot of money. What should I do now? — Name and address withheld A. Offer the hat to a pushy and aggressive friend. If she says she doesn’t like it, urge her to make an appointment at the pop-up shop and see if she can exchange this unsuitable present.

Q. My granddaughter has asked to use our barn for her 21st birthday dance in June. We can only sleep 30 in the house, but she won’t let me arrange billets with neighbours for the other 70, saying ‘everyone will sleep in their cars’. This seems short-sighted. It goes against the grain not to offer folk beds after a late-night shindig. Should I overrule her? — E.C., Adelstrop,Glos A. The reason the young no longer need beds after 21st dances is first that they tend to stay up all night and second they are prurient about drink-driving, so would in any case be unable to drive to a guest billet on public roads. The well-prepared will bring duvets and pillows in anticipation of sleeping in their cars between, say, 7 a.m.

Q. I recently made an arrangement with a flaky friend from university to go to my gym together. Half an hour after we were supposed to meet she called saying she was at the cash machine looking at her bank balance and she didn’t think she could afford the £20 guest entry fee. She suggested cancelling but I was dressed and raring to go so I offered to lend her the money. She politely declined saying, ‘I don’t like owing people money.’ I volunteered to pay the fee. On the way to the gym she said she was hungry and, opening a wallet stuffed with cash, bought luxury snacks costing roughly £25, and once inside the gym, ordered a cashew-nut smoothie at £6.50. What should I have done, Mary? She has a large (by my standards) allowance from her father.

Q. My son decided to go straight into work and has got a job. The problem is that it is in central London and none of his friends are available to share accommodation since they are all either on gap years or, if in London, in university halls. He’s been lucky enough to find a berth with a friend’s parents. He pays rent but, though they’ve given him his own small fridge, he doesn’t cook there — he doesn’t know how to and also he senses they would prefer he didn’t. Consequently he eats at Pizza Express every night using vouchers. He is a sociable boy and is used to holding court at home. How can he sustain a social life in these conditions, Mary? — K.L.,Dulverton, Somerset   A.

From Rt Hon Gisela Stuart MP Q. I keep getting into arguments with people about what being a Labour MP is all about. I used to think that being in government was better than being in opposition. They now tell me I’m wrong and that the years since 2010 have been better and purer than the flawed years from 1997 to 2010. Help. Are they right and am I wrong? A. As a Roman Catholic German Brexiteer Labour MP for a Birmingham constituency, you should have grown used to being in a minority. If you would rather be in power than out of it, the obvious solution is to switch sides and join the Conservative benches.

Q. I don’t go to my club that often but the other day I found a letter there waiting for me from an elderly cousin, also a member, whose home is in Scotland where he lives alone. The letter announces that he is down south until January and asks whether he might spend Christmas with my family here in London. I am well aware of the meaning of Christmas and have no wish to be mean-spirited, but my wife and I have a relentless social life throughout the year and our children are as yet unmarried, so Christmas Day has become the only time we can be sure of being together unencumbered by friends or partners. Since I might easily not have gone to the club and might therefore not even have received the letter in the first place, I wonder if ignoring it would be the best thing to do?

Q. Following a lavish house party I received a flood of effusive thank-you letters, the bulk of which praised the impeccable service, the luxurious treats laid on nightly, and my attentiveness to my guests’ every whim. One letter, however, commenced in a fairly complimentary vein but soon devolved into a letter of complaint about a fellow guest. So vehemently did the author express his antipathy that he covered two sides of paper. I concede that the young woman in question is an acquired taste, but I resent my friends being subject to character assassinations. How can I reprehend the scribe? — Name withheld, London W2 A. Bear in mind that this letter is something of a compliment. The author defies convention to put your welfare above his own.