Q. To my surprise I have been asked to give a eulogy at the funeral of someone I knew only quite well. I accepted more out of embarrassment than for any other reason but I will feel rather bogus delivering this encomium when there will be much closer friends present who may rightly be annoyed by my taking on this commission. Advice, Mary? – Name and address withheld
A. Your name, which has not actually been withheld from Dear Mary, suggests you may have been chosen for status reasons. A funeral is not a time to be mean-spirited however, and the key thing to remember about a eulogy is that it is not about you. You should figure minimally in your address (no doubt you are well practised in this). Research – by talking to others who knew the subject well – is mandatory. It is vital to get the facts right because mistakes will discredit the whole. You can name the suppliers of material to foster their sense of inclusion.
Q. My sister is involved with a very grand older man in his sixties. He insists that our sons, aged two and four, sit at the table with us in the formal dining room for lunch as he himself learnt table manners this way as a small boy. This is nerve-racking as the children make a terrific mess on the white linen tablecloths and so the whole table has to be changed. How can we politely ask for them to be excused?
– F.E.H., Taunton
A. Bring some large linen table napkins with you. Lay one down in front of each son. These will vastly restrict the area of spillages and can be removed at the end of lunch, leaving the main tablecloth intact.
Q. A friend, who is spoilt and eccentric, is also very good company. She has moved to a fabulous central apartment in Lisbon and invited two of us to stay. Our reservation is that she has no palate whatsoever and will have no interest in going out to restaurants which, for us, would be a major factor in visiting Lisbon. (She has been known to turn up to dinner parties and refuse the food because she has had a sandwich at home.) It would be frustrating to be near to brilliant restaurants but have to eat sandwiches instead. What should we do?
– Name and address withheld
A. If your friend is indeed eccentric she may not think it odd when you declare that, by a remarkable coincidence, both of your cleaners in England are Portuguese with sons who own restaurants in Lisbon. You have promised you would patronise these while staying in the city. Say: ‘This will give you a bit of breathing space from us while we nip out and eat in them.’
Write to Dear Mary at dearmary@spectator.co.uk
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