Mary Killen

Q. At a private screening of a documentary about the artist David Bomberg, a woman sitting near me in the hand-picked audience carried on using her iPhone to send and receive messages. She had the phone on silent but was generating a rival source of light to the screen we were all supposed to be watching. Thus we could not fully concentrate. Was there an elegant way I might have put a stop to this insensitive behaviour? What would you have said, Mary? — S.H-H., London SW3 A. There is no need to say anything. Cinema usherettes of yore would curb rowdy or undesirable behaviour in the stalls by shining a torch onto the miscreants. You might replicate this practice by using the iTorch facility on your own iPhone to project onto the culprit an exposing pool of light.

Q. I have a tattoo the length of my forearm and am worried it will alienate my new boyfriend’s parents on a forthcoming beach holiday. There will be no way of covering it up in a very hot climate. My boyfriend says his parents are way too pompous and it will be good for them to have a tattooed guest ‘in their face’ every day for a week, but I have no wish to irritate people who have been kind enough to invite me to Barbados. How should I handle this? — Name and address withheld A. Visit the website www.veilcover.com and watch a video showing how to completely mask a tattoo with waterproof make up. Veil, which was invented for the medical profession to cover scars and moles, is now available to the general public as well. A complete masking kit costs £34.97.

Q. I have a problem with what might be called location blindness. I live in Balham, but when I arrange restaurant lunches with friends, most of whom live in west London, they tend to assume I will be happy to make three times as long a journey to meet up as they will have to make themselves. A good midpoint for me would be, for example, Green Park, which takes only 15 minutes by Tube from Clapham South, but often, when someone has agreed to meet there, they ring at the 11th hour to suggest Notting Hill instead (50 minutes by tube for me, ten minutes’ walk for them). Or else they say, ‘Let’s meet somewhere mutually convenient, like the British Museum.’ I feel like replying, ‘Or at Poundland on Balham Hill?

Q. We had our son’s fiancée and her family to stay recently. After dinner, expecting conversation, we were shocked to see them all slumped in our drawing room staring at their ‘tablets’ and, I presume, playing on the internet. What should my wife and I have done? I was tempted to do the crossword or read a book but this seemed rude. — C.T., Dorsoduro, Italy A. You would have done well to turn the discourtesy to your own advantage — namely to use it as a tool to find out more about your son’s prospective in-laws. Acting daft, you might have said, ‘Oh what fun! Are we all going to play some new-fangled game on the internet now? We don’t have tablets. May we be on your team?

Q. I travel internationally two or three times per month for work, often with one or two colleagues. While the working day and the evenings inevitably involve prolonged contact with these colleagues, at breakfast-time I wish for a little ‘alone time’ to eat and read the paper, without company, but also without remaining in my soulless hotel room. How can one most tactfully ensure that one is left alone, while still taking breakfast in the hotel dining room? — J.B., Earlsfield, London A. Why not sidestep the problem by asking your colleagues, the night before, what time they are planning to go down to breakfast. If they say seven, then you go at either six or eight. Later you can say, ‘Sorry, I was awake really early’, or ‘Sorry, I overslept’.

Once again Mary has invited some of her favourite figures in the public eye to submit personal queries for her attention. From Sir Les Patterson Q. I am a distinguished Australian diplomat and happily married man, and I recently had a discreet liaison with a lady of oriental descent who was married to a newspaper tycoon. They are splitting up and I’m worried my name could be dragged into the limelight. How can I keep this out of the press? Alternatively, if it hits the headlines, how do I keep Lady Patterson from reading about it?  A. Tongues are already wagging so it is too late for a cover-up, but fortunately the scandal will break at a time when most senior commentators and grand inquisitors will be on holiday.

Q. Six years ago a rather glamorous man bought the house opposite me. Although he always responds to requests for contributions to the residents’ committee, he has yet to attend a meeting or garden party. We know he lives alone and, according to his otherwise discreet servant, there are no other visitors to the house. How can I satisfy my curiosity and let him see that I am an affable sort of person with whom he would certainly like to be friends? — Name withheld, London SW3 A. Next time you know he is in the house, why not ‘accidentally’ damage the wing mirror of his car? Wing mirrors, like dislocated shoulders, can be easily relocated, but pretend you do not know this and turn up on his doorstep to apologise and offer to pay for the damage.

Q. My egregious mother-in-law turns 80 this December. She is not short of a bob but for one of my birthdays (the big one) she sent me a card with the equivalent of A$20 (£12). This is normally what your children receive from their grandparents, not what a mature adult expects. I normally do not send her anything for her birthday but what would be the best way to make a point for her 80th? Send her a card with the same amount of money? Or could you propose an alternative strategy to show her that her gesture was, to say the least, the action of a stingy and parsimonious women? — Name withheld, Canberra, Australia A. If you really wish to make your mother-in-law feel small, then turn the other cheek and send her cash to the value of ten or 20 times what she sent you.

Q. A friend generously hosts an annual Christmas party in London where we see many old friends we have been missing since we moved to Dorset five years ago. However, for the past two years she has ‘taken over’ and will not allow any people who already know each other to chat. She barges into groups bellowing ‘This won’t do. Come and meet new people!’ It is irritating, to say the least, to be frogmarched off to various ends of the room to join equally bemused and irritated strangers. She does not let up for the duration of the evening, constantly breaking up groups, and berating those who won’t play ball. I am certain all the guests feel the same way as we do, and we are even considering refusing the invitation this year.

Q. Walking at a local beauty spot the other day, I passed a handsome young man. We exchanged a few words and both laughed. Afterwards I wished there had been a way of getting in touch again. How can I ensure that such opportunities for romance do not go wasted in future? — Y.P., Malvern, Worcs A. Never leave home without carrying a dog lead in your coat pocket. If Cupid’s arrow should strike while you are out walking, you may, by this simple expedient, give your telephone number to any handsome young men you like the look of. Just take out the lead and inform the Adonis that you have lost your dog, but must now get home immediately: could you give him your telephone number, so he may contact you if he sees it?

Q. One of our daughter’s godmothers has given very generous presents but never with any regularity. She was unable to attend the recent 18th birthday party but said on the telephone she hoped our daughter would like the present she was sending. No present has arrived. What is the protocol re thanking for something which has not turned up but may have been lost in the proverbial post? Or indeed, the absent-minded godmother may have forgotten to buy or post? — Name and address withheld A. Ring the godmother up shrieking with excitement. ‘The most marvellous bracelet has arrived in the post but with no card attached. Is it from you?

Q. I am no interior decorator, but we have a couple of rather subtle paint colours in the house that I picked out of a Dulux colour sheet and they have both been a success. I would be grateful if you could suggest a slight put-down to those visitors who ask which Farrow and Ball paint I have used. — Name and address withheld A. A put-down would be inappropriate in the current climate. You clearly do not realise that, all over Notting Hill, billionaire women are triumphantly shrieking ‘Zara!’ and ‘Top Shop!’ when asked where their winter coats are from. Inconspicuous consumption is the new black and boasting about cost-cutting the new oneupmanship.  Q. A small matter, but one I would like your advice on.

Q. One of my oldest and best friends, who has lived up north for years, begged me to let her daughter move in with us as a paying guest for her second year of university in London. The daughter was literally homeless and staying in a Premier Inn. She promised the girl would be good and would not bring friends back. This has turned out to be true. Unfortunately, we had no idea that her classes would only occupy her for two days a week and that the rest of the time she would be present in our flat. How can we ask her not to be at home so much without making her feel uncomfortable or unwanted? — Name and address withheld A. Buy in polystyrene cups and leave columns of them next to a kettle in your drawing room.

Q. I spent a week in a house party abroad, with an elderly and extremely polite friend of mine and his wife among my fellow guests. Our hostess really pulled out the stops for us — I have never been so well looked after in my life. While I was exchanging emails with her after the holiday, it emerged that she had not received a thank-you letter from our mutual friend, which was very odd as he is punctilious and always writes very good B&Bs at once. Three weeks later I was at a party with the couple in question and I revealed that our hostess was hurt that she had not received any communication from him about our holiday. He was appalled and said that he had written to her at once.

Q. Towards the end of last year, I began three months of treatment for a knee replacement. During one consultation the surgeon and I chatted about a mutual interest, the pleasure of cigar smoking. In fact I ceased smoking some time ago, but still had a quantity in my humidor and was pleased to make a gift to someone still enjoying a smoke. Among the items were a number of Monte Cristo Habanas, and to avoid any damage I packed them in a leather cigar case: I also handed over an inscribed book on the cigar industry, saying that I would like to have both the book and the case returned to me. I am not at all interested in the promised report of pleasure received. I have simply asked many times for my things to be returned , without success. Mary, how can I achieve this? — J.E.

Q. I am working on becoming a member of the Chipping Norton set. Should I be pronouncing the excellent open-air swimming pool as lee-doh or lie-doh? — P.W., by email A. You might as well pronounce it correctly — lee-doh — but which Chipping Norton set are you aiming to join? The set made up of Cameron, Brooks and Clarkson (who fund-raises for the Lido) exists mainly in the mind of journalists. Then there is the real Chipping Norton set whose members are mainly earthy, arty and left-wing. They pronounce it lee-doh as well. The Lido is charming but you will need to do more than pronounce its name correctly to gain social access to these busy people. Q.

Q. Some years ago, on holiday in Egypt, we found ourselves in the company of a couple who wanted to see us when we got home. Out of politeness we agreed and we have now fallen into a rut of reciprocal dinners. It has become a bore — perhaps for them as well. How can we stop it without seeming rude? — B.K., address withheld A. Next time provide entertainment as well as dinner.  A talk, concert or play would give new shared references to discuss, just like in the days when you had Egypt in common. It would also halt a slide into cultural complacency. In London, for example, a 5 x 15 event would fit most bills. Five writers each speak for 15 minutes to a wine-drinking audience who can then eat dinner downstairs.

Q. What to do when you are an unwilling eavesdropper in a train carriage in which people you know assume they are alone and start talking very indiscreetly about someone else you know and you have left it too late to alert them to your presence? — Name and address withheld A. Ideally you will have access to earphones and some sort of electronic device and can walk through the carriage dopily, as though looking for a newspaper. Wrench out the headphones theatrically on seeing the talkers. In the absence of headphones, duck your head down, walk backwards to the nearest connecting doors and, when they wheeze open, walk through them with the momentum of someone who has just re-entered the carriage. Q.