Manners

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.

Q. Everyone I know pretends to have neurodivergence to make themselves seem more unusual and so they can talk about themselves all the time. Is there a polite way of pointing out that this isn’t actually an interesting topic of conversation? – V.H., Herefordshire A. You might engage in a ‘bore off’. As soon as your interlocutor announces their diagnosis, retort that you too are quite convinced that you are suffering from a kind of rare condition. Launch into a list of your obscure symptoms. Enjoy letting your imagination roam. Brook no interruption. By the time you have paused to draw breath, they will think twice about resuming the neurodivergence topic in case it ‘triggers’ a flood of your own rival symptoms.

Q. I’m the author of 14 books, mostly historical fiction but a few children’s books, all published by a major firm. I find that I sometimes get invited to grand dinners in Notting Hill where I am often put next to a middle-aged banker’s wife. When I tell them about what I do and how hard it is to sell books, they start giving me their advice. It’s always the same: ‘You should really go on Instagram’ and ‘Have you tried TikTok?’. I feel my blood boiling because these are people who have never earned a penny or done anything, and I have no desire to submit myself to a Silicon Valley platform. What should I do? – S.P., London W12 A. The trouble with being too grand for TikTok/BookTok etc is that you may be missing a big trick.

Q. How can you leave a party early – e.g. at midnight rather than 4 a.m. – without everyone thinking you are letting the side down? My partner and I really enjoyed a recent wedding of two friends but we had to take a flight to the wedding and therefore had a really early start. By midnight we had been up for 16 hours without a break and, although it was really fun, we were shattered and just wanted to go back to the hotel. However, when we mentioned we were leaving, the whole table turned on us and we had to stay on till the bitter end. What should we do the next time this happens? – G.W., East Dulwich A. In the run-up to when you want to leave, stage a row with your partner and allow the table to see you muttering darkly to one another with furious looks on your faces.

Q. I was caught off guard last week by a busybody mother at my son’s boarding school asking us to join them for their sports day picnic. I pretended we would have our son’s godparents with us but she just said words to the effect of ‘bring them, the more the merrier’. My son doesn’t even like their son. How can I get out of this without causing offence? Name and address withheld A. Tell the busybody you have thought through her kind invitation but, realistically, you want the godparents to concentrate on your son because ‘they see him so rarely’. At the event itself, the busybody may not notice in the mêlée who, if anyone, you are picnicking with but if queries arise, gush brightly: ‘Yes! We’re wondering where they are as well. They’re not picking up!’ Q.

Q. Having previously lived in the country in a field with my nearest neighbour not even visible, I recently moved to a large village. I inherited a nice garden with lots of shrubs and perennials that make me very happy. However, my neighbour, whom I like and have for dinner, also likes my garden plants and secretly helps herself to my flowers. I have even been to her house and seen my delphiniums in a vase on her table. I’m new to the area and I want to keep the friends I’m starting to make, but I really mind her barefaced thievery. What do I do? – E.B., Oneonta, New York A. A potent theme in American horror films (e.g. Amityville) is hauntings consequent to building houses on, or otherwise defiling, First Nation burial grounds.

Q. I have a problem with a much older friend who is slightly insecure and super-sensitive to criticism and I don’t know how to tell her an uncomfortable truth about her guest lavatory. The lavatory shaft has a coating of thick brown limescale, inches deep. She is not short-sighted so clearly both she and her cleaner think the lavatory is perfectly presentable. I am going to stay with her in London and you might think I should just buy limescale remover but, were I to do so, she would notice the transformation and would then feel she had been foolish not to have known that such a product exists. She would worry endlessly about what I must think of her. Any suggestions? – Name and address withheld A.

Q. I find that when I go to mixed-age dinner parties the young all seem to be shouting. How can one tell them to pipe down without puncturing their ‘self esteem’? – N.H., London SW7 A. Young people’s voices have indeed become louder. The habit of wearing headphones and watching Netflix with subtitles so they can double-screen has compromised their ability to hear real-life voices and in response they shout. If, apart from the shouting, you still enjoy socialising with the young, you could equip yourself with noise sensitivity loop earbuds and use these in some capacity. Q. I am an artist and have started employing a neighbour who comes to my house two mornings a week to help with the compilation of a back catalogue of my work.

Q. My soon-to-be mother-in-law has started off-loading large amounts of her expensive but hideous cast-off clothes on to me. I don’t want them for many reasons, but we are moving into a much larger flat with lots of cupboards, so I can’t use limited space as a reason to reject them. She is not controlling, just tone-deaf. Can you help at all? — Name and address withheld A. Scroll through your contacts and source an impoverished and unchippy friend who would genuinely jump at the chance to refresh her wardrobe with these luxury cast-offs. Regale your mother-in-law with vivid hardship anecdotes about this friend, adding: ‘Incidentally, she is actually obsessed by you as a style model.

Q. I enjoy giving dinner parties and put a lot of effort into the preparations. However, recently I have noticed that much of the food I lovingly cook goes uneaten despite proclamations of how delicious it is. It has dawned on me that a large number of my friends are secretly on weight-reduction injections, and barely want to eat. I don’t like to ask beforehand about such a sensitive issue, yet neither do I want such waste, so how can I assess the right amount to make?  – M.B., Chelsea, London A. An extremely well-informed source calculates between 15 and 30 per cent of those in elite circles are currently self-dosing. For Cuisine Droguer you can adjust your quantities accordingly, without even asking, but still cook it lovingly. Q.

Q. I’m quite a good friend of a member of our royal family – going back to our shared school days. However, someone who has recently married into my family knows this and they are quite shamelessly pushing me for an introduction. At the moment I am playing for time but I definitely have no intention of fixing up a meeting. Please can you come up with a suggestion that will enable me to knock what would be an awkward scenario on the head? – Name and address withheld A. Kill their ambition by a bit of overstatement: ‘The funny thing is, because we became friends when we were at school, he/she is rather insistent that we see each other on our own. I am never allowed to introduce them to any friends.’ Q.

Q. Annoyingly, one of the Sunday newspapers ran an article about the ‘least used but most scenic footpaths’ in the UK, which identified paths in our immediate area. We have never had a problem with local trespassers on our own land but this article has prompted a deluge of incomer ramblers. They are traipsing not along any of the marked nearby footpaths, but across our field, which has no crops in it but is directly opposite our house. When I politely explain that it isn’t a right of way, they get very defensive, sometimes outright rude. What is the best way to deal with the situation, Mary? – A.F., Shropshire A. Try providing signs at entry points to the field. ‘Beware of the bull sometimes in field. Please keep to the footpath.’ (Attach a map of where the footpath is.

Q. At the age of 50 my brother-in-law has discovered a talent for acting and singing. He has joined a local amateur dramatics society and often takes a leading role. This new dimension in his life has meant the world to him and his self-confidence has soared. Theatre is not our thing, but as my husband and I live in the same town we feel it incumbent to be loyal and attend at least one performance of a run. The small venue tends to become quite warm and stuffy and, with the best will in the world, my hard-working husband finds it difficult not to nod off, especially if he has commuted to and from London that day. The audience is fairly small so anyone not engaged can be clearly seen from the stage and, if I keep nudging him, I can be seen doing so.

Q. A divorced male friend, renting in Notting Hill, has had no historic experience of cooking but has discovered Lidgate pies and started giving lunches. His dining table seats 12, he provides good wine and cheese and the ambiance, the quality of guests and the (fake) log fire make for a superb atmosphere. His morale has been considerably boosted. But sadly the pies (potentially fabulous) are always lukewarm by the time the food is on the plates. Am I alone in thinking that hot plates are essential when serving hot food? If so, how can I say something without undermining his new confidence? – B.B., London W11 A. Well done for flagging Lidgate pies which are ready cooked and you reheat. Re cost: a lamb, leek and apricot pie, serving 12, costs £124 but hot plates are essential.