Mary Killen

Q. Any more tips on how a lonely bachelor can improve his social life? Your recent advice that I should send out a round-robin email saying ‘I’ve had the all-clear’ backfired. I did get loads of calls but many of them were from people who assumed I had been suffering from an STD. — E.W., London A. Nevertheless, the response has proved my theory that, as a single, good-looking and solvent man, you are bound to be in demand and that as such people will welcome having an excuse to ring you up. Try another method of giving them one which was recently used, inadvertently, by another bachelor, who said yes to an email asking if he would recommend a new cab-calling service he had used?

Q. My husband and I are at loggerheads. One of the buildings he owns has become vacant and he has planning consent for change of use to a pub. On the one hand we very much need the money. On the other I dread the drunkenness and yobbery it would bring. Can you rule, Mary? — Name withheld, Worcestershire A. He could achieve the same result — filling your coffers — by turning this empty building into toilets. Anyone who doubts that toilets can be an attraction in their own right need only visit Stonehenge, where hordes pass through the toilets each day without even casting a glance at the world heritage site.

Q. A couple of weeks ago, on a Sunday morning, the Idler Academy arranged that there would be a ‘signing’ for my book. The Idler emailed the thousand idlers on their list and the headmaster’s mother came up from Oxford to help control the crowds. Two people turned up, both of whom were old friends. Mary, what do you advise? —D.B., London W2 A. Do not take the apparent mass snubbing as significant. Since your book (‘Among Booksellers, Tales Told in Letters to Howard Hodgkin’, by David Batterham) contains the modest musings of a gentleman and scholar as he goes about his business in the world of rare books, it is likely that most potential purchasers would also be unpushy types and disinclined to consider the cornering of its author on a Sunday morning.

Q. A friend had a glamorous book launch to which I was not invited but which was all over the papers. Since I regularly review books, this exclusion seems pointed. The implication is that I am no longer considered glamorous myself and she would not wish to be conflated with me in any review. What should I say when I next run into her? — Name withheld, London NW1 A. Don’t assume the exclusion was deliberate. These days most publishers have unpaid interns, to whom such chores as guest lists are often deputed with predictable results. Your dignified response is to assume that being left off the list was a mistake. Next time you see her, cry, ‘I’m so sorry about missing your party but I promise you I did not even know about it until I saw the coverage the next day.

Q. How can I road-test a potential lodger? I am under pressure from old friends who know that I live alone and am away a lot, and also that I have a spare room with a bathroom in my central London flat. They all seem to have children who cannot find anywhere affordable to live in London. I feel that it would be selfish not to let the room, but what if the young person turns out to be uncivilised? I have no children of my own, so I am probably out of date, but I still expect a bit of deference from someone 30 or more years younger than me. I am nervous of being landed with someone whose parents insist that they are meek and compliant, but who will bring people back, throw all-night parties etc. Most of all, I don’t want to fall out with the parents by falling out with the child.

Q. I went to lunch in the new house of a rather competitive woman. We have friends in common, without being particular friends ourselves. After lunch she showed me round this (slightly overblown) new mansion in Kensington and I was amazed to see two bathrooms off her marital bedroom. Naturally I enthused, out of politeness, and said how wonderful to have two — to which she replied ‘Oh don’t you and your husband have a double en suite? Oh poor you.’ My husband and I think we are doing well to have one bathroom en suite and I did not appreciate being patronised. How should I have replied, Mary? — F.R., London SW12 A.

Q. A bachelor colleague is in great demand as a spare man. He often regales us with details of the fascinating people he has met at dinner. Our view is that he should occasionally have people back, but he seems to feel that, as everyone knows he has no one at home to cook, he is excused this politeness. Sometimes we suspect he feels it is he who does his hosts the favour, just by turning up. How should we tactfully hint that he may be getting a reputation as a sponger? — R.F., London EC1 A. You can subtly steer your colleague towards the realisation that return hospitality may be due. Each time he regales you with details of the dinners he has been to, ask: ‘And did you sing for your supper?’ Eventually it will dawn on him why you keep asking this question.

Q. At a recent social event my wife and I were lucky enough to be guests of a dear friend who had also asked some dozen others. We started the evening as a party in a bar and, as 7.15 p.m. approached and we got ready to leave, I noticed that none of our party, mostly women, had offered to help to pay for their drinks, so I was left to pick up the tab, which came to £79. Interestingly, no one bothered to say thank you, as they had already walked off unthinkingly. My wife and I had had a glass of wine and a beer between us. I would appreciate some advice on how to avoid a similar situation in future. —Name and address withheld A. This was a classic case of involuntary sponging.

Q. A friend has asked me to a small birthday dinner, but she has also, unwittingly, asked a man with whom I have an embarrassing issue. In a nutshell, he invited me on a date and then didn’t call on the day or since. I have met someone else so I am not bitter. But I could have been really demoralised (because we snogged and so on). It was all against my better judgment anyway because, although he is very good-looking, he is a Tory and I am not, but I still think he should not get away scot-free, so can you recommend a way in which I can demoralise him at the dinner without creating a bad atmosphere generally? —B.J., London W11 A. This is the wrong attitude to take. Parents with naughty children should never discipline them under someone else’s roof.

Q. How, without causing offence, can you stop someone sitting next to you on an aeroplane or train from talking to you all the way through the journey? I find this often happens to me, and once you engage it is hard to bring the conversation to a close. I count on these journeys as opportunities to catch up on reading. — H.A., London W8 A. First soften the blow by talking animatedly for a few minutes. Then put your hand over your mouth and confess in despairing mode, ‘I always get so tempted to talk when I meet someone interesting on a plane/train. Will you promise to stop me if I try to carry on chatting? I’ve got so much reading to do and I’m sure you have, too.’ Q. A friend who runs an art business from her home in the country is too nice to her staff.

Q. When our daughter, who has a wheat allergy, comes up to stay for weekends or hols with her husband and children, my wife takes a lot of trouble ordering wheat-free loaves from a special source in our nearby town. These are then collected by my wife and pointed out to all present as being for our daughter only — there is plenty of other delicious bread. In spite of all this (the specially ordered bread is expensive, has to be collected, we can’t get another loaf quickly, and we’ve said it several times), her husband still goes on taking pieces! He may be winding up his in-laws, but either way, can you suggest a solution? — H.B., East Lothian, Scotland A.

Q. Recently my wife and I received a thank you letter from ‘John and Kate’ giving an address in Pimlico. They wrote to thank us for a picture of roses that ‘we’ had given them for a wedding present. My mother-in-law painted beautifully and often chose roses. My wife and I racked our brains to think who this well-mannered couple could be. Not one of ours — over to you Rollo and Janie (a local couple with whom I and my wife, Rollo and Caroline, are often confused). But it was not one of theirs either… How do you suggest both Rollos come out of this smelling of roses? — R.C.,West Porlock, Somerset A. A quick (free) search of www.thepeerage.co.uk reveals too many Rollos for the mystery to be easily solved. However, there is no need for you to be coy.

Q. We have a friend in her late sixties who has been a widow for ten years. Over that period of time we have asked her to many social occasions at our home. She has never asked us to her house. It’s reached a stage where we are starting to feel that maybe we shouldn’t ask her again. Do you have any ideas as to how we could resolve this problem? – P.H., Wiltshire A. Yes, but first let’s look at the likely reasons for her failure to reciprocate. One: you have a large, beautiful house, whereas she has a small grotty one and wrongly assumes you would not want a return match. Two: secretly her house is stuffed with treasures. People would talk if they saw them so she keeps them out for security reasons. Three: she is neurotic about money or mad.

Q.  How should one discourage a fellow diner from helping himself too greedily from a dish you are enjoying yourself? A writer friend invited me to lunch in the River Room at the Savoy Hotel. The treat was only marred when the pudding course arrived: ‘opalys white chocolate jelly sphere’. This was a thin chocolate shell over which the waiter poured perhaps a dessert spoon of hot chocolate sauce, bursting the shell and revealing the content within — a raspberry hibiscus ice cream. It was the single most delicious thing I have ever eaten but I had only had one spoonful when my friend’s husband, who was next to me and had not ordered a pudding, asked could he taste it. ‘Of course,’ I said. He then ate say, six spoons’ worth to my further one.

Q. A close neighbour has a two-car garage that occupies her entire street frontage. However, she has developed a habit of parking her car outside my house so that I then have to park way up the street (I only have one car). When her many children visit, they also park in front of my house if I am not there. I think this is rather rude. Is there any way I can tactfully get the message to her that she should either park in her garage or down the street, where there is plenty of room? I have considered appealing to the local council but this seems a bit draconian. Your advice would be much appreciated. — John, by email A. Beam pleasantly at the neighbour as you inquire whether she might consider renting one of her two garages to you as a parking space.

Q. After a beach picnic in Denmark two girlfriends and I went for a walk in the dunes. Returning along the beach we found we had to cross a naturist section. A man made it clear that we must conform and so we did, feeling rather foolish carrying our bikinis — but we had nowhere to hide them! — to be greeted at the far end by our goggle-eyed husbands. They said the man had his own agenda. In future, what is the etiquette for crossing the nudist section of a beach? —V.W., London SW6 A. A frisson of excitement is detectable in your enquiry. It suggests that you may have quite enjoyed the enforced exposure.

Q. My nice young London terrace neighbour, whose total rebuilding works are eight months old now, with plenty still to go, has mailed me to express the hope that the last few months have not been too painful. How can I let him know about the constant noise, dirt and dust, the wafting Polish cigarette smoke, the occasional drilling at 8.01 on a Saturday morning, the whole inconsiderate (and I accept inevitable) continuum of it, without falling out with him? —A.B., London SW18 A. You can assume his overture is a coded request for comments. Make your benevolence towards him clear by saying the disruption is a price worth paying to have such a welcome new neighbour.

Q. How can I tell a new young colleague that he needs to wash? He and I share an office and he is exceptionally nice but the smell in our shared quarters is sickening. What do you advise? — E.C., Oxford A. Try this method which has resolved the same problem for others. Say to the youth, ‘I am going to ask you a question and I want you to be completely honest, even if you think it may hurt my feelings. do I smell?’ When he says no, say excitedly, ‘Phew! It’s not me then. But haven’t you noticed there is a terrible smell in our room? If it is not me then it must be you!’ Move closer to him as though to check, then recoil crying ‘it is!’ in the satisfied manner of someone who has solved a riddle rather than someone who is revolted.

Once again Mary has invited some of her favourite figures in the public eye to submit personal queries for her attention. From the Rt Hon Michael Gove MPQ. Without his parents quite knowing why, our seven-year-old son has become fanatical about football. I have tried to channel this enthusiasm in a positive way, booking him into local coaching sessions, and on the basis that one should support a football club for reasons of dogged local patriotism rather than a thirst for glittering prizes, I have sought to nurture a passion for our local team, Queens Park Rangers, in his breast. But our son has remarked that QPR appear to win less often than other teams his school friends support — notably Chelsea.

Q. In my late fifties, I find myself, in the run-up to Christmas this year, going to social events and meeting up with contemporaries some of whom I have not seen for years. I have always been bad at recognising people but I notice that some now seem quite offended. They are taking it wrongly and thinking that it is because they have deteriorated so much. Is there a fail-safe way in which I can find out who on earth they are without their suspecting I do not know? —Name withheld, London SW8 A. You might consider emulating the example of one considerate Sloane who carries a Smythson pocket jotter complete with pen. As the ‘stranger’ approaches she shouts, ‘I’m not even going to ask how you are until you have written down your phone number.