Mary Killen

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.