Etiquette

Q. I am shortly to attend a big London party at which I will see many old acquaintances. However, first there was Covid, then I went to live in New York: so while other guests have been seeing each other on and off over the past five years, I have not. I will undoubtedly keep offending people as I fail to recognise those whose appearances have inevitably changed but who will have no difficulty recognising me as I am on television. Mary, how should I prepare for this? – P.M., London W8 A. Get hold of a pair of thick-lensed glasses – perhaps from a charity shop. Snap them in two at the bridge. Bring these out of your pocket when people approach and show them saying: ‘You’ll have to tell me who you are. I’ve just broken these and I can’t see a thing.’ Q.

Q. My printer is broken, so I asked my neighbour to print off a letter for me. It was from my doctor. I wanted to show it to my husband, who hates reading things on a computer. I hadn’t realised it had two attachments on the bottom with information of a very personal matter. Our neighbour kindly came round with the print-offs, including the attachments. We used to walk our dogs together but now I am so embarrassed I can’t look him in the face. What can I do? – Name and address withheld A. Contact the neighbour to arrange a dog walk as per normal. When you meet up, burst into gales of laughter and claim that you cannot believe that he fell for your practical joke: ‘We went to so much trouble to fake that letter and attachments.

Q. A decade ago I commissioned a handmade velvet opera coat from a fabulous local designer. She was then struggling (although is now highly sought after) so I sent quite a few customers her way. She made for each of them a bespoke coat, like mine, but each had its own individual distinctive lining. I was vaguely aware I hadn’t seen my coat for a while but this week, at a fundraiser, I saw it being worn. I rushed across to my neighbour and said words to the effect of: ‘Oh thank goodness you’ve got my coat. Now I remember I left it at your house when we came to dinner. You must have muddled it with yours!’ She looked furious and said it was definitely her coat, the one she had commissioned. I could tell by the lining that it was mine.

Q. I have been booked to give my first talk on my field of professional interest. I happen to have found out that a slightly competitive friend, with no interest in the subject, has bought a ticket. I fear she knows full well that her surprise appearance in the (small) specialist audience and the cynical expression on her face will be enough to throw me off my stride completely. Mary, how can I ask her not to come without falling out with her? – Name and address withheld A. Pretend not to know she is coming. Instead outsmart her by requesting the organisers employ a well-known trick of stagecraft. Arrange for you to be brightly lit, while the auditorium is arranged in near or complete darkness.

Q. A woman in our village has written a romantic novel in which one of the leading characters is said to be based on me. I understand that the character is glamorous but he is also preposterous. While I know that, technically, such a fictional portrait is a compliment to the person it is modelled on, as long as not libellous, I don’t really like the idea of my neighbour ‘scoring points’ over me while simultaneously mocking me. I therefore don’t want to read the novel as I fear it may undermine me. However, we are a close-knit community and I don’t want to be unsupportive by not reading it, as this novel has allegedly been the financial saving of her. I know I will be expected to comment, as we run into each other all the time.

Q. I have accepted an invitation to a five-day house party in Scotland. I know it is a breach of etiquette to ask, and I wouldn’t dream of pulling out, having committed, but how can I find out who else will be there? I am very easygoing, but there will be roughly 18 other guests and I would just like to know what I am letting myself in for. – B.F., Lymington, Hants A. Contact your host to suggest a house present you would love to bring. Explain that the jobless graduate daughter of a friend is trying to set up as a bespoke calligrapher, allegedly producing beautiful handmade ‘place à table’ cards. She may not be any good but you would like to support her by giving her a commission. Could she give you the names of everyone in the house party?

Q. A good friend often cycles over when I invite him for drinks. The trouble is he insists on turning up slightly sweaty in Lycra, and it makes things awkward when other guests are in jackets and dresses. Mary, how can I steer him towards something more civilised without causing offence? – B.H., London SW3 A. Begin a tradition of taking a group photograph in front of your grandest backdrop. Mention casually on the invitation: ‘We’ll take a quick photo when everyone has arrived.’ Few men will risk posterity, or indeed Instagram, in Lycra. Your friend will find himself spontaneously smartening up his act without your having to intervene. Q.

Q. My twins’ birthday is coming up, but we will be in the country. Their godparents are usually punctilious, but will send things to the London address. How do I let them know that we will be away, without sounding like I’m expecting them to send presents? – P.W., London NW1 A. Ask them to lunch shortly before you go away. The subject of your imminent departure for the country will naturally come up at the lunch. If they can’t come, say: ‘Oh well, I would ask you the following week but we will be away in the country.’ Q. My husband and I recently went on a ten-day cruise, hoping to spend time together without too many social interruptions.

Q. I am soon to entertain a house party on a sporting estate. We took the same house last year and all went well, except the housekeeper complained to the owner that we’d let our guests ‘tramp through the house in their trainers and boots’. This was a misrepresentation but it’s true that the odd guest, dashing back to their room for a mobile, might have failed to spend five minutes unlacing and relacing boots. We don’t want to be banned from the property in future so, given human nature, how can I enforce the boots-off rule this year without causing bad vibes? – V.P., Malmesbury A. You can easily sidestep this nuisance by buying multiple packs of disposable surgical overshoes and leaving these on prominent display in the boot room area.

Q. My friend has had an irritating experience in our local cinema. She speaks fluent French and teaches it in secondary school. Her enjoyment of a very good French film with English subtitles was ruined by a group of women in the back row laughing loudly each time a joke was made in French, before the subtitles appeared. This ruined the experience for my friend, who often sees French films there. How should she shut these show-offs up if they do it again? – E.S., Sussex A. Loud laughter is unacceptable in any circumstances, let alone in a small screening room. However ‘erudition signalling’ is a plague of all arts venues. At the opera, know-alls disrupt by chortling merrily at incomprehensible libretto jokes before the surtitle appears.

Q. While on holiday in Corfu, we met a rather nice man who invited us to his house for dinner. The house turned out to be something of a palace. There were six of us around the table and a waitress came towards us. She had a tray with a bowl, sitting in a bed of ice, and a tin of caviar, with a mother-of-pearl teaspoon, surrounded by ice within that bowl. Caviar is my favourite food and I can remember every mouthful I have ever had – but I hardly ever have it. The waitress presented the bowl to me first. I didn’t want to be gauche and ask my host how much I should take, so I took just one teaspoon. But as the bowl moved around the table, I could see everyone else taking much more – about ten times as much – and we were never offered seconds.

Q. We have a neighbour who always overfills my glass. I beg her not to. Even if I commit the solecism of holding my hand over the glass to stop her, she will wait and then sneak up behind me and pour more in. I like her but I always reel away from her house pie-eyed, and wake with a hangover. What do I do? – D.S., Delhi, Catskills, USA A. Punish your neighbour by stocking up on silicone stretch lids, as used by the fastidious to cover the likes of yoghurt pots in the fridge. Having extracted a promise from her that she will not sneak up to refill your glass, secrete a stretchable lid over it. Since these lids are invisible, she will have only herself to blame when she suffers the splash-back consequences. This should put a stop to her meddling in future. Q.

Q. When I have an arrangement to meet a certain friend for lunch she sometimes turns up with a streaming cold – and then I catch it. I would never dream of meeting a friend when I am ill; I would always say to them: ‘Do you want to meet me with a cold? It’s up to you.’ She’s a bit fragile, so how do I tell her off without causing any offence? – J.F., London SW12 A. An inoffensive but effective measure would be to update your WhatsApp profile picture to one of you holding a large handwritten sign saying: ‘No colds please!’ The repeat offender is bound to query the new profile photo and you can say: ‘Oh, I am just fed up with catching colds from friends who don’t mention that they have one when we arrange to meet.

Q. We are going to stay with some old friends who we haven’t seen for a couple of years as they have been working in the US. I happen to know that they now have widely different political views to my husband’s ‘far-right’ opinions. How I can stop any potential conversations getting out of hand, as my husband tends to dig his heels in? – B.D.V., Northants A. Collude with your husband to pre-empt possible catastrophes. Tell the couple that he has agreed to imminently take part in a village debate to raise funds for charity. Unfortunately he has been assigned the argument ‘President Trump is a good man’. He doesn’t want to let the charity down but cannot think of anything to say in Trump’s favour.

Q. I had the same Spanish housekeeper for 25 years and was devoted to her, and she to me. She was loyal, reliable, fastidious and an excellent cook. She died three years ago and I mourn her every day. I have often wondered how you would have dealt with the one aspect of our relationship which was unsatisfactory. Each morning she arrived at 8 a.m. and went straight into the flat’s guest lavatory, where she evacuated. The smell somehow permeated the whole flat for some time. I always wanted to suggest that she arrive at 8.10, having gone at home first, but couldn’t think of a way to say so without hurting her feelings. How would you have tackled this, Mary? – Name and address withheld A.

Q. My husband and I have recently made very good friends with some neighbours in France. They know I am having a 60th birthday party in London and have assumed they will be invited too. My problem is one of these new friends is a world-famous Hollywood actor and his wife is famous in her own right. I am worried about where I will seat them. I wouldn’t want to give the impression to a roomful of my oldest friends (none of whom is famous) that I think the ‘stars’ are more important than they are, but neither do I want to offend the stars, who I fear will expect to be next to us at the top table (and possibly even sitting side-by-side American style). What should I do? – Name and address withheld A.

Q. I recently attended an opera on a friend’s estate in Kent. It was a multi-generational, non-ticketed, invitation-only event. The setting was idyllic, but as night drew in and my party looked around for some sort of food van, we realised we hadn’t read the small print on the invitation: ‘Bring your own picnic.’ It was at least a 20-minute drive to the nearest village, which would mean us missing the opening aria, and we looked on in dismay as the older generation produced checked tablecloths, platters of barbecued chicken, sausages, artisan bread and hummus. I hovered near a platter of chicken thighs and stared longingly at it. Its procurer, a benevolent older lady, took pity on me. ‘Do have one,’ she said. Gratefully I took one for me and one for a starving friend.