Q. Is there a friendly way to cut short a telephone conversation? A certain woman always wants to talk at length even if I am only ringing to confirm that we will meet the next day for lunch. She becomes huffy if I suggest we leave all the catching up till then.
— Name withheld, London W8
A. Why not put the ball in her court and let her be the one to cut short the chatter? Do this by ringing during an ad break of, say, Downton Abbey, saying, ‘I’m just ringing to confirm tomorrow at one.’ ‘Look forward to it,’ she will reply. ‘Shall we catch up then?’
Q. We have 50 teenagers coming to a Norfolk barn over half-term for a disco. I say a sit-down dinner is impractical and takeaway pizzas are the answer, but my wife has come over all socially anxious about this. Can you reassure her?
— P.M., London W11
A. Teenagers far prefer not to be stuck between the same two people for 90 minutes. Rather than takeaway pizzas, however, call in a local fast-food van to park outside the barn and serve bacon sandwiches on demand. The key is to insist the van owner uses only organic, free-range, dry-cured Denhay bacon which has no animal cruelty or antibiotic footprint. He must serve it inside spelt, not wheat bread. In this way you will set teenage taste buds a-slavering, at the same time as ticking their food allergy and self-righteousness boxes.
Q. I understand that poetry supremo William Sieghart has great success with the ‘surgeries’ he holds at literary festivals, listening to people’s problems, then giving ‘Poetry Prescriptions’. Mary, should we now go to William instead of you?
— Name and address withheld
A. Let us compare and contrast. I showed the following problem to William Sieghart:
How can I find out whether a young man in my office, who seems to be coming on to me, is doing it out of politeness, or whether he actually fancies me? — A.G., London W8
My response: Suggest your colleague joins you at a bar with bench-style seating. Sitting adjacent, draw the conversation to the topic of adolescent crushes. Recall the moment when you had a pass made at you by a man you had fancied, until put off by his unusual kissing technique. Chuckle unlasciviously: ‘Shall I demonstrate?’ He will either recoil in mock horror, or he will murmur ‘Yes, do’, in which case you will have been given the green light.
Sieghart’s reply, on the other hand: ‘Why not engage him in conversation and tell him your favourite poem, “Celia Celia” by Adrian Mitchell: “When I am sad and weary/ When I think all hope has gone/ When I walk along High Holborn/ I think of you with nothing on.” If he is genuinely interested or blushes you will have flushed out his true intentions.’
I conclude the marketplace has room for us both.
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