Manners

Q. My son is having his 30th birthday next weekend and has invited 50 friends to a garden party. We thought it would have been okay to host a party by now, but government guidelines say it is illegal to have more than 30 people. How does he reduce the numbers? One way to do it might be to have a live Zoom chat and pick the names out of a hat. That would also give my son the opportunity not to put a name in if a friend has a partner he doesn’t get on with. Would this work? — Name and address withheld A. Even if one undesirable

Q. On my way to Devon recently I stopped for lunch with an impeccably mannered friend. He produced first crab meat, then smoked salmon with a delicious salad of avocado, lettuce etc. Halfway through I noticed he had four or five prawns on his plate and I had none. As prawns are one of my favourite foods I vocalised my disappointment. He was mortified but could not transfer any prawns to my plate for fear of coronavirus. Should I have kept my mouth shut, Mary?— E.S., Ripe, Sussex A. No, but you could have proceeded differently. You might have set your host at his ease by gushing: ‘Oh you haven’t

Q. We invited two friends to supper in London. As they came in they said they should order their taxi home before we began to drink as they now had to pre-book. They then discussed the booking time between themselves and agreed on 11.30 p.m. But Mary, we wanted them to leave at 10.30 at the latest. How could we have conveyed this without making them feel unwelcome? — Name and address withheld A. You can pre-empt overstaying in future by outlining a time scale as you issue the invitation. For example, you could say to them: ‘Could you possibly come early, e.g. 7 or 7.30, as we have to

Q. I am not expected to pay rent at the cottage which has been lent to me by a super-kind friend-of-a-friend who stepped in when she heard I would be homeless in the short-term. Unfortunately she didn’t mention that, although there is wifi in the cottage, the signal is so patchy it effectively means I can’t work here. Even mobile phone calls keep cutting out and I have to walk for a mile up a hill to be able to speak to anyone. How can I, without seeming ungrateful, get across the message that, generous as she has been, in 2020 a cottage without reliable wifi is no good to

Q. Our daughter is going ahead with her wedding despite the restriction on guest numbers. Although it is a relief not to have to worry about (and pay for) the 150 people originally expected, another problem arises when the numbers are so limited that guests cannot get away from each other. We want to have five tables of six at the reception, but many of our older guests hold unfashionable views and would be incapable of self-censorship. Looking at all possible variants of the seating plan, I can see no way of sidestepping some incendiary juxtapositions. Some of the young guests are especially intolerant of diversity of opinions, and I

Q. As we attend socially distant events, we expect of our hosts a scrupulous accommodation of our preferences around physical interaction. What distinguishes a good guest right now is less clear For example, I know an offer to help clear the plates would be refused, and might even make other guests anxious about my getting too close. Yet remaining entirely static while the host works their magic around me does not feel right. So, Mary, how can I express my gratitude? — C.L., Cambridge A. Express the gratitude on arrival. Congratulate your host for having staged the much-needed social event in the first place ‘at a time when you, as

Q. During lockdown I have done my level best to assist with household chores. Last week, while my wife was taking her daily constitutional, the washing machine finished its cycle and I took it upon myself to hang the clothes on the washing line. On her return, my wife upbraided me for hanging out her ‘smalls’ as she refers to them — somewhat ironically given their size. Is there a protocol for what washing can be dried on public display and what needs to be aired indoors?— D.R.D., Northamptonshire A. You did well to try to help but your actions must be regarded as at best unimaginative, and at worst

Q. Just before Covid, we moved out of London with the intention of having a quiet life in the country. We were surprised to find that, although remote, the area offers almost as many potential friends as the city. We were welcomed and we did go out and had people back. Yet no matter how compatible our neighbours were turning out to be, it confirmed for us that actually we don’t want too active a social life down here. We were wondering what to do about this when Covid intervened. Now that social things are about to take off again, we are faced with a big dilemma because, especially with

Q. How can one politely stop predatory kissers? I am (or was) an affectionate and demonstrative person but I don’t wish to immediately go back to kissing and hugging — even close friends — at social events, let alone people I have just met. I accepted an invitation to my first (garden) lunch since lockdown because I was told we would be only six. I arrived to find we would be a much less manageable ten. One of the un-billed guests, a neighbour I’ve only met a few times, came immediately towards me saying: ‘Are you kissing?’ When I said ‘no’ he bore down on me anyway, saying ‘Well I’m

Q. I know it is rude to ask, when invited to a dinner party, ‘who else is coming?’ I assumed, therefore, that it would have been equally churlish to ask, when invited to a private piano recital to be staged in the garden of a large country house, ‘what is the repertoire?’ And so I just accepted. Now I am dreading being served up, for example, one of the atonal later works of Schoenberg or Webern, which would be torture to me. What to do if this happens again?— Name and address withheld A. The best line to take is to immediately gush that you would have loved to come

Q. Now we are instructed to mingle again, I’m sure I’m not alone in being surprised to find an awkwardness on meeting or departing from friends and relations. The lack of handshake or hug has us all twitching. I struggle to find the right socially distanced replacement; the ‘namaste’ praying hands gesture seems rather mutton dressed as lamb for those of us who are the wrong generation for a gap year experience. Do you think the over-arm bowling gesture might give the right spirit of cheeriness and connection without actual body contact?— L.O.G., Petersfield, Hampshire A. Nice idea and thank you for sharing it, but the gesture is somewhat niche

Q. I own a small, somewhat shabby and antiquated but well-located flat in central London which I have been happy to lend out to friends as I wasn’t using it much myself. No one was there during lockdown but four separate people stayed for various lengths of time just before. No one paid to stay there and I wouldn’t have wanted them to, but arriving there myself this week, for the first time this year, I found a vital piece of equipment broken — the glass jug of the ancient coffee machine. It’s not the cost (and difficulty) of replacement which annoys me, but the thought that one of my

Q. Please can you tell me the correct etiquette about signing the visitors book after you are married? Obviously you don’t sign your parents’ one before marriage — but your fiancé does. After you are married do you both sign — even if you have lived in the house all your life? — Name and address withheld A. There is no reason for any former child of a house to feel offended if the parent (or step-parent) asks them to sign the visitors book after marriage. It is not a veiled insult or a signal that ‘this is no longer your home’. The visitors book is a matter of record,

Q. For me the hallmark of a really close friend is someone with whom you feel comfortable enough to bring a phone call to an abrupt halt with no need for explanation. I too am over 70, but unlike your correspondent from New Zealand (Dear Mary, 9 May) am still working full-time — now from home. Yet my telephone rings throughout the day with calls from the sort of people I might see, at most, twice a year in the outside world, now wanting lengthy chats. I could just tell them that I am still working flat-out but the problem is that these are often people I feel guilty about

Q To your correspondent with a guest whose table manners offend (2 May), you suggest screening him off with a well-positioned vase of flowers. Mary, this may work for lockdown but whether or not his peers say that ‘table manners aren’t a thing anymore’, they certainly are still a thing among the sort of people who might give him a job. Someone needs to upset him, in the short term, for his own good in the long. I write as a parent whose daughter’s likeable but slobbish-at-the-table boyfriend will re-enter our orbit when this blessed holiday comes to an end. — Name and address withheld A. The clue is to

Q. I am being driven to distraction by a touchy relation who has responded to the lockdown by WhatsApping me three or four times per day with a succession of YouTube and other video clips, accompanied by messages such as ‘You’ll love this!’ If only that were the case. None of the often lengthy video clips are particularly interesting or entertaining, yet I feel obliged to open them, not least because WhatsApp allows her to see whether or not I have done so. The arrival of each new message from her fills me with dread and exhaustion. How can I stop her from continuing to bombard me without hurting her

Q. Each day while working from home, I have at least one hour-long meeting via Zoom. One of my colleagues has a dodgy internet connection and has become a terrible menace as we all politely sit through minutes of unpleasant white noise while she tries to communicate her thoughts. The meeting chair never seems to take a hard line on this; do you have any advice? — M.C., Fosbury, Wilts A. You would do well to join the Zoom meeting via a computer rather than your phone. Zoom will highlight the person who is speaking at any one time, so when the offender’s name comes up on the screen, you

Q. Caught in Switzerland as the ski resort shut down around my ears, and feeling like a walking health hazard, I returned to Somerset to begin splendid isolation days before it became fashionable or mandatory. I’ve been getting loads of jobs done, and the dog is happier than ever, but my peace is being perforated by London friends — the sort who associate solitude with boredom — inviting me to virtual dinner parties on Zoom at a set time with the inescapable tagline ‘we know that you have no other engagements’. After a busy day out in the garden, all I want to do is settle by the log burner

Q. How can I stop a member of the household from glutting out on the chocolate supply I have stockpiled? A glance into the larder would suggest we are more than adequately catered for in the event of a lockdown, but we are an unusually large family (which includes in-laws and staff) and while most of us are on board with an ethical siege spirit, two large bars of Fruit & Nut went missing over the weekend. You don’t have to be Agatha Christie to guess the culprit’s identity. My problem is: how can I catch him in the act? People are in and out of the larder at all