Q. The other day I walked into a local restaurant where I saw two people I usually meet up with each year at a certain house-party. They greeted me with yelps of anticipation and asked was I excited about meeting up again next month. I had to admit that no, I wasn’t excited since our host, one of my closest friends (let’s call her Janey) who I see three times a week, has not mentioned the gathering this year and I had therefore assumed it was not taking place. My exclusion from the guest-list baffles me but my conscience is clear, so I am curious rather than hurt. Has there been some sort of misunderstanding between us? How can I get to the bottom of this without going directly to Janey to seek enlightenment, where it might seem as though I were fishing for an invitation which she clearly does not wish to extend.
R.P., Dorset
A. Arrange for a mutual friend to ring Janey and say something like, ‘Will you be away for your usual house-party on 17 March or can you come to supper?’ When Janey admits she will be away, the mutual friend can rejoin, ‘Then I won’t ask R.P. because no doubt she will be staying with you, as always.’ Janey’s conscience must be troubled. She would therefore welcome the chance to use a third party as a human ventilator through whom she can air her real or imaginary grievances against you. Or indeed through whom she can justify her exclusion on perhaps quite innocent grounds. Either way she will make the revelation confident in the knowledge that it will be passed directly on to you. If there have been misunderstandings you can then take steps to clear them up.
Q. This week I went to the opera and during the intermission I was invited to share a glass of wine at a private gathering, at which time I was introduced to several people and I extended my hand in greeting to each. One man took my hand with unexpected enthusiasm and kept me captive in his vice-like grip for what felt like an eternity, the pain exacerbated by a large ring I was wearing. The rest of the performance was spoilt nursing my throbbing limb. I felt more despondent than the dying heroine. It’s not the first time this has happened to me and obviously many other women, so my question is how to reclaim the hand gracefully and promptly, as there are no obvious indicators that you are about be subjected to such treatment.
N.B., Adelaide, Australia
A. If you have a glass in your left hand pass it wordlessly to someone nearby. Then — as though in a botched attempt to clap him on the back in response to his own warm greeting — use your free hand to tickle the hand-crusher’s right armpit. As a reflex he will immediately loosen his grip. At this point you can giggle pleasantly, ‘Oh sorry, did I tickle you?!’
Q. A.E., of Pewsey’s letter of January 20th had important resonance. (A E had a ‘Capricorns only party as a way of seeing favourite friends without their partners).
My 70th birthday lunch on 23rd January was limited to a dozen set covers at £50 a head of oysters and steak tartare. A good friend’s wife is vegetarian, so I thought better not invite them. Now they are ex-friends and it ‘bitched’ my birthday.
Your last reply is inapplicable. Can you please suggest an alternative?
R.S., Malmesbury. Wilts.
A. This was an unfortunate coincidence but why not now host a vegetarian only birthday luncheon? The costs for this meatless ‘spread’ will be much reduced not least because you will probably find difficulty in rounding up even half a dozen vegetarians to attend it.
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