Q. At a packed piano recital the other night, we were the only ones who didn’t have white hair, so had every reason to expect good manners to prevail. Nevertheless, during Träumerei, a lady started peeling apart a cellophane wrapper. It was a long, loving and loud process, and to judge by the surreptitious movement with which she finally raised the sweetmeat to her mouth, she knew she was doing wrong. The concert hall acoustics heartbreakingly magnified the sound and ruined my enjoyment of this piece. It may also have enraged the famous pianist, who did not favour us with an encore. What should we have done?
S.T., Wiltshire
A. It is never quite clear whether those who crackle sweet papers, drink like babies at a teat from water bottles, or cough in auditoria are oblivious to the disturbance they are creating. Or whether, as Harold Pinter suspects, an element of passive aggression is involved. Since Bateman cartoon-style glaring from adjacent members of the audience often fails to halt the racket, it is well worth bringing a pocket torch to such events. Should a nuisance occur, simply shine it in the face of the offending noisemaker, who will stop at once, believing that the authorities have been summoned.
Q. It is my wife’s birthday in a few days, and due to the credit crunch, I have not a farthing to my name. Moreover, it’s a particularly important birthday, her first since we have been married. To make things even worse, my wife’s favourite motto is ‘Start as you mean to go on!’ What can I do in this absolutely hopeless situation?
B.T., Norfolk
A. There is something you can give your wife which will be worth far more to her than almost anything that £100 or so could buy. That is your commitment blindly to obey her for, say, ten hours. They need not be ten continuous hours but can be broken down into 20 half-hour units of pleasure. For her to be able to summon you to produce, on demand, and without criticism or impatience, sundry luxury services such as massages, reading aloud, fetching and carrying while she lolls back on sofa or bed would be a true luxury. It would also be a means of staggering your display of devotion over many days rather than just the one-off moment when you hand over the traditional present of purchased goods.
Q. While chatting on the telephone to a friend I mentioned a man I met recently and would like to know better. I was describing how fascinating, highly intelligent, talented and extraordinarily well-connected and powerful this man was when my friend interrupted to say that she thought he was a friend of her husband. ‘Really!’ was my response. ‘How does he know him?’ To this my friend replied, ‘What a rude thing to say. Why wouldn’t he know him?’ She seemed genuinely offended. Mary, can you judge — was this rude? And how could I have avoided causing offence while still satisfying my curiosity?
Name and address withheld
A. Your spontaneous response was not intended to be rude. Clearly you just meant, ‘How can I use your husband as a Trojan Horse to get to know this man better myself?’ The correct protocol, for future scenarios, is to say ‘Really! How did he get to know him?’
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