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. I’ve been meaning to get it for years.’
Q. At continental saunas I have noticed that women now ‘tidy up’ a normally unseen area, while my own extravagant disorder attracts disapproving looks. The same seems to be happening at my London gym. Are we now to pay as much attention to grooming there as we do to our eyebrows?
—S.B., London SW6
A. Do not submit to fashion victimhood. This sort of tidying is by no means compulsory in civilised circles. Indeed it risks signalling a presumption that inspections of the zone in question are likely to be serially carried out. For this reason it is best to leave things as nature intended.
Q. A friend uses my house as his base when he is passing through London. Because he lives abroad he does not have an English mobile and so he uses my landline to ring lots of premium-rate lines for things like traffic news (65p a minute). He always insists on giving me money but sadly does not realise how big a bill he has run up. How can I gently bring this to his attention? We all adore him and would never want to make him feel guilty.
—S.V., London SW6
A. Pleasantly hand him a prepaid pay-as-you-go mobile to use, claiming you need to free up your own line for a call you are expecting. When after a few minutes he says that the credit has expired, you say, ‘but how could it, when I topped it up with £10? Oh, you must have been ringing a premium-rate number!’
Q. I have lived in the same house in Chelsea for 43 years. How, without appearing chippy, can I make this clear to visitors who assume that it must be a recent purchase paid for with enormous sums of money I have generated in the City? I do work there, but am not paid ‘funny money’.
—Name withheld, London SW3
A. Have some writing paper knocked up displaying the old FLAxman telephone code. Tell people you bulk-bought the paper in the 1960s and are determined to use it up.
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