Mary Killen

Q. In response to correspondence re. wedding gifts: there is no need for a couple to have a list at John Lewis, and then translate gifts bought into vouchers — they should simply ask for John Lewis vouchers in the first place. This will save them the inconvenience of flogging around the store and, in their exhaustion, wildly listing things they will never use. Alternatively, stipulate an expensive item such as a Turkish carpet and suggest a donation to go towards that. The Turkish carpet option was requested at two weddings I have recently attended, and it did not strike a wrong note as we all knew where our money was going and that the couple would have a valuable item they could cherish for the rest of their lives. — J.P., Pimlico A.

Q.  I have organised a city break to Florence with a particularly easygoing bunch of friends. We have one spare room in the flat that we have hired and a friend of a friend has come forward to suggest himself. Everyone else going is very unqueeny and unfussy but I suspect this man may be a bit of a bore of the sort who complains that wine is corked or that queues are too long. How can I find out before it is too late and he is already on board and spoiling the fun for the rest of us with his quibbling ways? On the other hand, he is very intelligent and interesting and I may have got him quite wrong. –A.B., London W8 A. Invite the man to your house and offer him a gin and tonic.

Q. My boyfriend, an artist, is driving himself and others mad by his inability to keep track of his mobile. This he keeps putting down randomly on any old surface of his disorganised cottage, even though he knows there is signal only in certain places, so he can’t depend on locating it by hearing it when someone rings. Since he has also had the landline disconnected, it is often impossible to get through to him, but he seems unable to learn from his mistakes. T.D., Burford, Oxfordshire A. Next time you have access to this irritating man, programme the alarm feature of his mobile to go off, say, at 4 p.m. each day, in ascending loudness mode. An alarm will go off whether or not the mobile is within signal.

Q. To ask for money in lieu of a wedding present (Dear Mary, 3 August) is ghastly, but an established couple can overcome the issue by having a list at John Lewis and converting presents to vouchers. Thus a toaster can be readily converted to something else, even some groceries from Waitrose. For those offended to be asked for cash, a suitable sum can be used to buy a voucher, from John Lewis or a St James’s wine merchant or an art gallery. If you’re really offended by being asked for straight cash, however, a ticket or scratchcard for the National Lottery would make the point well, with a high chance of benefiting a ‘good cause’ and a low one of fixing the avaricious couple’s financial woes. — C.R., Greenwich A.

Q. My mainly male colleagues and I were happy to learn that an attractive young woman would be joining the staff of the boarding prep school where we work. Yet, unfathomably, and despite having gone to the Dragon and grown up in north Oxford, this new colleague’s table manners turned out to be truly revolting. She eats very quickly, with both elbows on the table, head down and lifting the food in via her knife, hardly using her fork at all. This has turned us all off — most notably me at whom she has made a series of unsubtle passes — and as a result we have cancelled the tradition of Sunday staff suppers as no one can stomach sitting at a table with her.

Q. I very recently attended my son’s black-tie leavers’ ball at his school on one of the hottest evenings of the year. I thought it would be good opportunity to wear my white jacket and was very surprised to find that nearly everyone else was in the usual black DJ. I spoke to the one other man who was wearing a white jacket, observing that if you couldn’t wear it in mid-summer, when could you? He suggested that there was a formality about not wearing a white tux north of a certain latitude, but was not precise on this point. This sounded pompous nonsense to me, but do you have any views or rulings on this, Mary? — J.M.S., Shipston-on-Stour A. This debate is a little bit 20th-century.

Q. I know this seems petty but last year, on our villa holiday, my brother-in-law always took the best chair at the pool. This was a teak lounger with flat armrests on which books or drinks could be rested, and an adjustable section to prop up the knees. Everyone else was on plastic numbers. If anyone deserved the best chair, it should have been me, his host, who he knows has two dodgy knees. My sister is sensitive about him, so direct criticism or even teasing are out of the question as the whole topic is too combustible. Any suggestions, Mary? We are taking the same villa again this year. —Name and address withheld A. The villa managers are at fault here.

Q. Regarding the writing of ‘no presents’ on an invitation (Dear Mary, 6 July), my own experience is that many people ignore ‘no presents’ anyway. Some will not even ask for ideas, and you are likely to be inundated with cushions with ‘Still sexy at 60’ embossed on them and huge mugs yelling ‘Keep calm and carry on’ in bold colours. To pre-empt this, your correspondent’s wife might do better to send a round-robin email to all those invited saying she forgot to write ‘no presents’, but should anyone like to, they could donate to a charity of their choice. I think Ukip might ruffle a few feathers. — J.F., Balham A. Such a diktat would be marvellous in its magnanimity. Q.

Q.  I have far too many friends to be able to invite them all to my forthcoming book launch. How can I cull the numbers without causing grave offence? — Name withheld, Edinburgh A. Ask the publisher’s PR to send invitations from her own email address. The subject box should read ‘Invitation to a party to launch…’ followed by the title of your book, which, usually, will leave insufficient room for your name. Those who bother to click open the attachment will see that the invitation concerns you, but chances are that busy people will consign the email to spam or simply scroll past it without opening.

Q. Over the years my close friends locally have been giving each other birthday and Christmas presents. Now, as I reach 60, it seems ridiculous to worry about choosing and buying all these presents for Christmases ad infinitum, as well as remembering each of their birthdays. Some of them have new daughters-in-law or sons-in-law and grandchildren on the scene, and more presents to buy, so they might welcome a truce. On my part, I am overwhelmed with stuff and don’t need any more. How do I stop the present giving/receiving without hurting their feelings? — Name withheld, Hampshire A. No doubt most of your friends are also overwhelmed with stuff, and would welcome a truce on present-exchange, but none of you wants to be the killjoy who suggests it.

Q. Is there a tactful way to speed the departure of someone who has come for drinks only, but fails to leave when dinner is announced? Chatting to punters during my recent NGS open day, I made the mistake of boasting that a certain household name, who had been spotted in the area, was actually staying with me. One of these punters, a local and a friend of a friend, begged to meet her ‘absolute idol’ and proposed herself for drinks before dinner. Local and idol got on famously but local, having declined my wife’s suggestion that she stay on to dinner, showed no sign of leaving. She was not drunk but seemed oblivious to the frozen grins on our other six guests’ hungry faces as she chatted gaily on.

Q. A man I know has invited me and some other journalists, most of whom I admire, to join him in the Whitehall penthouse of the Corinthia Hotel for drinks and canapés with a view to our contributing to an online magazine he plans to start up. When I asked him what his word rate would be, he replied unapologetically, ‘Well at first you won’t be paid — though certainly, if it takes off, there will be money further down the line.’ As a professional writer I fear it would devalue my stock were I known to work without being paid, but I like this self-styled editor and would like to be involved. How should I play this? — M.W., Pewsey A.

Q. Is it acceptable to admit that you don’t ‘do’ anything? Or should one pretend to be writing a book or attending a course at the V&A or some such? I am afraid I just play bridge all day and sometimes I even go abroad to do it. — Name and address withheld A. So long as you are not playing the game online, and have to get yourself up and dressed and go out and about to play, then freely admit to it. Those in religious orders who ‘just’ pray have no qualms about admitting it. The mental gym aspects of bridge-playing could accredit it as positive intellectual exercise. Bridge can also be praised because it promotes social cohesion of the sort not revolving around vested interests.

Q. With just a month to go of training as a primary school teacher, I am relieved and excited to have been offered a job. Now it has been a few weeks since I last spoke to one of my good friends in our PGCE cohort. I have many lively stories to tell of weird and wonderful escapades with wild children. However, I feel I should not call her, since I cannot be sure that she has been offered a post. — J.C.R.R., London SE11 A. Your tact is misplaced and you should call with your news. To be weirdly silent about it suggests your presumption that your fellow student is unlikely to be employed. Do you think Renée Zellweger doesn’t dare ring up Julia Roberts to tell her about her latest part, in case Julia hasn’t got one and would be jealous?

Q. On two recent occasions I have noted that women I know professionally are pregnant, although neither referred to it. Should one offer congratulations or wait until the pregnancy is mentioned? I have taken two approaches, congratulating the one I know reasonably well, and saying nothing to the one I know less well. Your advice please, Mary. — K.D., London A. It very much depends on whether the woman is sporting the baby as a ‘display pregnancy’ i.e. with tight clothes and explicit silhouette, or is shrouded in tenting. If the first, congratulate. If the second, give an unintrusive compliment such as ‘You’re looking very well! How lovely!

Q. It is occasionally necessary for me to pretend to be asleep. What technique do actors use, when feigning death or sleep, to ensure their eyeballs are still and their eyelids do not flutter? — Name withheld, Hampshire A. To pre-empt fluttering, let the actual eyeballs look downwards behind the closed lids.  Q. Your correspondent in Bombay had trouble with teenage houseguests who were unaware of the convention of tipping. My recent problem was the reverse — my fellow guests and I wanted to tip after a long weekend abroad in which staff had done a lot of different things for us, but our female host refused to give us any guidance about the going rates in the country where we were staying.

Q. My godmother owns a house in a great part of London. She does not come up very often and she is very kindly allowing me to move in for a year with three university friends. I will be landlady and collect the very low rent she will charge us. It is amazingly kind of her so I am annoyed that one of my intended lodgers, who has never even met my godmother, but will benefit from her generosity just through being a friend of mine, refuses to contribute towards a cleaner. He says it will be a waste of money for us to spend, collectively, £120 a week (£30 each) on a cleaner, because we could spend that money giving two dinner parties a week instead.

Q. My literary agent has failed to return my emails and phone calls and it has been six weeks since we last talked. I don’t want to appear desperate but all I think about each day is — is my book going to be published, or not? Any suggestions? — Name and address withheld A. A little research on your agent’s website will reveal publication dates of forthcoming books by his other clients. Attend the launch party of one of these. In this way you can stage a casual encounter with your agent and make progress inquiries in a dignified manner.

Q. Flowers have arrived, allegedly from my boyfriend — but the bunch includes begonias and gloxinias, foliage tonged into ringlets, sheaths of cellophane and a large acetate ribbon. I am fairly certain the culprit is his new personal assistant. As they are in my country house, he won’t see them, so how can I, without seeming ungrateful or sour, convey the message that he should not trust this important chore again to someone with such poor judgment? — Name and address withheld A. Quickly take a snap of the bouquet on your mobile and email it to your boyfriend, along with a blandly affectionate message of thanks. Let the image speak for itself. Q. How can one find out a woman’s maiden name quickly, without looking like Lady Bracknell?