Q. A woman in our village has written a romantic novel in which one of the leading characters is said to be based on me. I understand that the character is glamorous but he is also preposterous. While I know that, technically, such a fictional portrait is a compliment to the person it is modelled on, as long as not libellous, I don’t really like the idea of my neighbour ‘scoring points’ over me while simultaneously mocking me. I therefore don’t want to read the novel as I fear it may undermine me. However, we are a close-knit community and I don’t want to be unsupportive by not reading it, as this novel has allegedly been the financial saving of her. I know I will be expected to comment, as we run into each other all the time. What should I say to her – and to others who cannot wipe the smiles from their faces when they ask me what I think of the book?
– Name and address withheld
A. Tell those who ask that you are longing to read it, but you have been told by a friend with your best interests at heart that you should not do so – pause for dramatic effect – ‘because it will make me much more conceited than I already am’.
Q. When driving, my husband and I always like to do a sweep of houses of architectural interest that are nearby. These days, however, we sometimes come across new owners of a territorial type, who intercept one in the drive, or run out of the front door to confront us and who are clearly not sympathisers. When required to deflect aggression from those who would not understand the concept of a sweep, what is the best excuse to give for our presence? One cannot know the names of their neighbours to pretend to have been looking for that house.
– B.L., London SW3
A. The safest thing is to say: ‘I’m frightfully sorry. I thought this was my grandson’s potential new boarding school. I know it is around here somewhere but I can’t remember the name.’
Q. May I pass on a tip to readers? My husband and I boarded a 7 p.m. train at Edinburgh heading for London on Sunday. We were to arrive in London at midnight when all restaurants would be closed. We were dismayed to hear that there was no buffet on board and no trolley as we were both starving. My husband brilliantly worked out that the train would come into York at a certain time on a certain platform, and ordered two pizzas to be delivered direct to our carriage. He was able to open the door on the platform and take them in.
– A.G., Florence
A. How extremely kind of you to share this very valuable tip.
Write to Dear Mary at dearmary@spectator.co.uk
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