Mary Killen

Mary Killen

Dear Mary: Why don’t my neighbours appreciate my 8 p.m. Thursday firework?

Q. For me the hallmark of a really close friend is someone with whom you feel comfortable enough to bring a phone call to an abrupt halt with no need for explanation. I too am over 70, but unlike your correspondent from New Zealand (Dear Mary, 9 May) am still working full-time — now from home. Yet my telephone rings throughout the day with calls from the sort of people I might see, at most, twice a year in the outside world, now wanting lengthy chats. I could just tell them that I am still working flat-out but the problem is that these are often people I feel guilty about because, to be blunt, they are keener on me than I on them and I have neglected them, and so I don’t feel I can hurt their feelings by explaining that I need to get on.

Dear Mary: What do I say to the neighbour who comments on my daily exercise?

Q To your correspondent with a guest whose table manners offend (2 May), you suggest screening him off with a well-positioned vase of flowers. Mary, this may work for lockdown but whether or not his peers say that ‘table manners aren’t a thing anymore’, they certainly are still a thing among the sort of people who might give him a job. Someone needs to upset him, in the short term, for his own good in the long. I write as a parent whose daughter’s likeable but slobbish-at-the-table boyfriend will re-enter our orbit when this blessed holiday comes to an end. — Name and address withheld A. The clue is to approach the issue from a humanitarian, rather than a snobbish, perspective.

Dear Mary: How do I handle my lockdown guest’s lack of table manners?

Q. I am being driven to distraction by a touchy relation who has responded to the lockdown by WhatsApping me three or four times per day with a succession of YouTube and other video clips, accompanied by messages such as ‘You’ll love this!’ If only that were the case. None of the often lengthy video clips are particularly interesting or entertaining, yet I feel obliged to open them, not least because WhatsApp allows her to see whether or not I have done so. The arrival of each new message from her fills me with dread and exhaustion. How can I stop her from continuing to bombard me without hurting her feelings?— Name and address withheld A. She cannot tell if you have muted the clips, so why not turn these interruptions to your advantage?

Dear Mary: How can I stop my friends spreading coronavirus conspiracy theories?

Q. Several of my friends and family members have moved on from dark thoughts concerning 9/11, the Kennedy assassination and other major events, and now seem convinced that coronavirus is another conspiracy, this time by the Chinese against the western powers. I say that’s unlikely, as it started with them infecting their own people. I would really like them to stop peddling such fake news, but how can I get them to do that without spoiling my good relationships with them?—P.B., Tadworth, Surrey A.

Dear Mary: How do I get out of bossy chain emails?

Q. Each day while working from home, I have at least one hour-long meeting via Zoom. One of my colleagues has a dodgy internet connection and has become a terrible menace as we all politely sit through minutes of unpleasant white noise while she tries to communicate her thoughts. The meeting chair never seems to take a hard line on this; do you have any advice? — M.C., Fosbury, Wilts A. You would do well to join the Zoom meeting via a computer rather than your phone. Zoom will highlight the person who is speaking at any one time, so when the offender’s name comes up on the screen, you can turn to some ironing or an unfinished watercolour you prepared earlier.

Dear Mary: How can I self-isolate without people bothering me on Zoom?

Q. Caught in Switzerland as the ski resort shut down around my ears, and feeling like a walking health hazard, I returned to Somerset to begin splendid isolation days before it became fashionable or mandatory. I’ve been getting loads of jobs done, and the dog is happier than ever, but my peace is being perforated by London friends — the sort who associate solitude with boredom — inviting me to virtual dinner parties on Zoom at a set time with the inescapable tagline ‘we know that you have no other engagements’. After a busy day out in the garden, all I want to do is settle by the log burner with a sausage supper and catch up on MasterChef.

Dear Mary: How much should I pay my cleaner during the lockdown?

Q. Mary, what percentage of cleaners’ normal wages should we pay them when they can’t come in for the foreseeable future? My cleaner has worked for me for 30 years but she has never had a bank account and so I’ve always paid her in cash. Since she has never legitimised her position, it means she would not be able to benefit from Rishi Sunak’s scheme to help the self-employed. If I pay her 50 per cent, it will not be enough, as she needs every penny of what she earns. However, if I pay her as much for not working as she would normally get then I feel it is giving the wrong message. Also she has benefited all these years by not paying tax on her earnings. Can you help me solve this?— T.S., Norwich A. Painful though this is, you should pay 100 per cent.

Dear Mary: Can my marriage survive my husband working from home?

Q. Our son and his girlfriend have announced their engagement and we are delighted with his choice. Our problem is with what I regard as the misjudged tone of hilarity among some friends, many of whom we have not heard from for years, who have telephoned to congratulate us. It’s the emphasis on how clever our son has been and how thrilled we must be — the subtext being ‘because you’re all such snobs’ — which rankles. Yes, it’s a fact that our future daughter-in-law is a member of the aristocracy and has a bit of cash — but our son is, by any standards, an exceptional young man. Moreover, he is highly regarded in his professional field.

Dear Mary: How can I avoid being bored by my quarantine pasta diet?

Q. We recently welcomed an 18-year-old au pair into our young family, and I’m pleased that she has settled in quickly and feels comfortable around us. However, last Saturday she walked into the kitchen for breakfast wearing the tiniest pair of pyjama shorts I’ve ever seen — almost half her bottom was on display. My husband was quite bewildered and says I must ask her to wear something with more coverage. She is quite a proud person and I don’t want to create any bad vibes, and after all, Saturdays are her day off, so I feel she is free to do as she likes. But am I being too lenient? How should I address this with her? — S.C., Austria A.

Dear Mary: How can I stop my family scoffing our coronavirus chocolate stockpile?

Q. How can I stop a member of the household from glutting out on the chocolate supply I have stockpiled? A glance into the larder would suggest we are more than adequately catered for in the event of a lockdown, but we are an unusually large family (which includes in-laws and staff) and while most of us are on board with an ethical siege spirit, two large bars of Fruit & Nut went missing over the weekend. You don’t have to be Agatha Christie to guess the culprit’s identity. My problem is: how can I catch him in the act? People are in and out of the larder at all times, so locking it would be impractical. — Name and address withheld A. First pleasantly address the household.

Dear Mary: How can I foil a notorious place-swapper at my daughter’s wedding?

Q. I am arranging the seating plan for my daughter’s wedding and have a problem with one of her guests who is notorious for swapping her place to insert herself between ‘better’ people and thus disrupting the whole scheme. There will be 20 tables of eight at the dinner and I will be too busy to keep an eye on her. What do you suggest, Mary? — Name and address withheld A. You can outwit this disruptor by substituting a pseudonym, say Harriet Belafonte, for her own name on the grand plan at the door. Her name will not appear and so she won’t know which place name to swap.

Dear Mary’s guide to coronavirus etiquette

The first piece of advice is to view coronavirus as a blessing. ‘If only there could be something to unite all humans against a common enemy — like a meteorite heading towards earth,’ said my wise older friend Anne some years ago, ‘then all wars would stop.’ I always thought she had a point. Now corona-virus is that common enemy. And don’t forget we won’t necessarily die — only 2 per cent of us, mainly oldies, will.

Dear Mary: Should I return my pod coffee maker on moral grounds?

Q. I adore doing jigsaws and these days there’s an added bonus — by posting my progress on Instagram I can share the happy glow it gives me knowing that I’m reducing toxic screen-time habits. Recently I begged to borrow a magnificent 1,000-piece puzzle from a friend — a vast winter scene by Pieter Bruegel. Setting to, I succumbed to the meditative calm and satisfaction of puzzling. After two weeks of hard graft neglecting pretty much all domestic duties, the puzzle was finished, but with a piece missing! This maddening lost piece is an obscure blob of twiggy branch that nobody could love, but its absence mocks all my efforts. I cannot be sure it was I who lost it.

Dear Mary: Should I tell my friend that his expensive lunch made me ill?

Q. I see a lot of two of our grandchildren because they live in our London house. We are centrally located so we see a lot of their friends, too. Our grand-children are well-mannered but conversation is always stalling because of their refusal to allow me to use shorthand to identify the friend being discussed e.g. ‘the fat one’. I do not intend to offend — they’re just shortcuts that people of my age group (70+) use when we can’t remember anyone’s name, let alone the names of our grandchildren’s friends. If I have to ask, for example, ‘Was Eric the boy in the Star Wars hoodie who ate crumpets last Tuesday?’ — rather than ‘Is Eric the fat boy?’ — dialogue becomes clunky. How can we break this impasse?

Dear Mary: What is the etiquette about kissing during the coronavirus scare?

Q. I am having a drinks party to celebrate the publication of my latest book. I sent out invitations (to mainly long-standing friends) by email. The invitation PDF clearly signals an informal party. Half of the respondents asked their secretaries to send formal replies, which is fair enough, although self-important. But a few secretaries sent pompous replies from the personal email accounts of their bosses. So I sent emails back and discovered the secretaries have taken control of their bosses’ accounts from within. This is unnerving. Mary, what do you say? — R.J., London W11 A. It’s the impersonality which causes the subtle offence. People with secretaries and PAs should tread carefully when a social, rather than a professional, RSVP is called for. Q.

Dear Mary: As an actor, how do I cope with strangers who think they know me?

Q. I have hired a private room in a restaurant in order to give dinner to a large number of old friends. One of these, with whom I’ve discussed the elaborate seating plan, asked early on if she could sit next to a certain man whom she’s always admired, but doesn’t know well. I said yes. She was thrilled, but now the man in question has begged not to be next to her. What should I do? — Name and address withheld A. Spare her feelings by asking the man to come half an hour after the time you have told everyone else to turn up.

Dear Mary: How can I get my friend to shave off his hideous wispy moustache?

Q. An elderly cousin gave my husband and me a wedding present of two weeks in his villa in the Bahamas. We have just returned from the most fabulous holiday of our lives. His delightful housekeeper came in every day and we bonded with her. However, towards the end of our stay she confided that it had been some months since my cousin, who pays her a monthly retainer in cash, had visited and that she was running short of money. Could we get cash to pay the sum he owed her, and ask my cousin to pay us back? My cousin is much richer than we are and, frankly, we couldn’t afford this extra cost, but felt we couldn’t say no. Now, after a holiday that would have cost thousands had we paid, you will understand why we can’t ask him to reimburse us.

Brexit ruined our social lives. Can we now kiss and make up?

Brexit spoilt our social lives for three and a half years. I was in Austria in a house party of 20 Britons when the result came through. Sixteen of us had voted Remain (three while ‘holding their noses’) and four had voted Leave. The Leave voters stayed silent while the rest of us raged about the stupidity of the voting public. One of the party got busy cancelling a long-planned canal-boat trip with a lifelong friend who she knew had voted Leave. She suddenly couldn’t face sleeping in close proximity to him. In London, protest marches were being organised and it was considered very bad form if, as a Remainer, you failed to turn up and be counted.

Dear Mary: How can I stop my mother-in-law sitting on newspaper whenever she comes to my house?

Q. When my mother-in-law visits, she puts newspaper on a dining chair before sitting down. I’m so speechless that someone could behave in this way that I don’t say anything. What comment could I could make to discourage this? Or, given she only visits three times a year, should I just chalk it up to ‘crazy in-laws’? By way of detail, I’m Australian and my mother-in-law is a Scotswoman. — Name and address withheld A. This seems a fairly harmless eccentricity. However if you wish to establish the thinking behind it, use the following method. Next time she comes, show her to a chair preloaded with newspapers.

Dear Mary: How can I stop other diners eating my chips?

Q. My husband and I are committed Brexiteers. For many years we have regularly enjoyed friendly bridge evenings with a couple who are Remainers, but who are in every other respect unexceptionable. On consulting my diary this morning I noticed to my horror that it is our turn to host our next evening on 31 January. How should I handle this potentially difficult situation, Mary? When 11 o’clock strikes should I break out the champagne or forgo our once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to celebrate? Against the odds we have remained friends thus far. — J.A., Suffolk A. Social life has improved dramatically since the election, and fortunately 31 January will be one of the last opportunities for re-opening the old wound.