Q. As chairman of the parish council, I am required, along with a local member of the aristocracy, to judge the best red, white and blue outfit and the best hat at the forthcoming village Diamond Jubilee celebration. The potential diplomatic pitfalls are legion. I have thought of saying that I have, during the occasion, been texting pictures to our MP (who happens to be the Prime Minister) and claiming the selection was his. However, I fear that this deception may result in me ending up in front of some inquiry or other. Can you suggest a better way to negotiate this — as far as I am concerned — no-win situation?
— C.C., Ramsden, Oxfordshire
A. You are right to be concerned. No matter how just your judgment, you will inevitably become the focus of resentment. For some contestants, such local competitions are metaphors for their whole life struggle. Sidestep the potential legacy of hatred by devolving responsibility and calling instead for a referendum. Make sure it is all above board, avoiding any risk that you and the aristocrat will be seen as having the deciding votes. You can still display leadership status by awarding prizes from a stage.
Q. A good friend whose husband is very intolerant about whom he meets (but who likes me) often invites me to dinner parties and sometimes to stay. However, she has told me strictly not to divulge, either to her oldest friend or to her cousin, both of whom I know well, anything about these social occasions, as her husband won’t invite the two to anything. He finds them boring, though others don’t. She says she doesn’t want them to be hurt. I find that having to conceal my social activities from these two women, whom I see regularly, puts me in a very creepy position.
— Name and address withheld
A. You can spare your friends’ feelings in the event of your forgetting and blabbing about the dinners. Pre-empt their dismay with the following technique. Tell the friend and cousin that for some reason you keep having vivid dreams that you’re at dinner parties given by the couple. Then, if you slip up conversationally, you can shake your head and say, ‘Of course, it was all in a dream.’
Q. In the current economic climate I feel bad about the glut of rhubarb in our garden that we never use. We have tried giving it away, but nobody wants it. What do you suggest, Mary? — M.B., Wootton, Oxfordshire
A. Chop the rhubarb up, and put it in a saucepan with a little water. Bring to the boil, then simmer with a generous amount of sugar. You are then faced with a warm pudding that can be topped with powdered ginger snaps, which you crush by standing on them in a plastic bag, and ice cream. It takes minutes and is an excellent seasonal alternative to Eton mess.
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