Q. In my late fifties, I find myself, in the run-up to Christmas this year, going to social events and meeting up with contemporaries some of whom I have not seen for years. I have always been bad at recognising people but I notice that some now seem quite offended. They are taking it wrongly
Q. Coming across a secluded pool while walking in the Picos in Spain on a very hot day we had an exhilarating skinny-dip, followed by some rather silly antics for forty-somethings. By chance a couple we know but detest (the husband is always ogling me) were staying in the same hotel. Since our return he
Q. Is it on to invite friends to a birthday dinner and, with no pre-arrangement, expect them to fork out for their meal? An acquaintance — let’s call him Ralphie — has done this for years. Responding to his always effusive invitation (‘I’d really like YOU to be there’), one arrives bearing a gift and,
Q. I believe there is a recent trend among very well-brought-up people to attempt to alleviate the impression of elitism that their impeccable manners may provoke by putting their feet in places where they should not be. When I was in London just before the election, I noticed a picture of Mr Cameron sitting in
Q. In the event of the expected death of a dear friend, I have been asked to organise the funeral. I have no idea which newspaper I should put the announcement in. Each death notice costs about £60, so if I were to do the Times, Telegraph, Guardian and Independent, it would all mount up,
Q. I appear in a reality television show — perhaps unreality would be a more accurate description. The erroneous impression that I am fabulously rich has been so well conveyed that, when having dinner with new acquaintances, I sense a certain anticipation that I will be happy to pick up the bill. Most of my
Q. I was caught out last week during dinner. The guest on my left was droning on at length and I had tuned in to a more interesting conversation down the other end of the table when to my horror he suddenly said, ‘Sorry… I lost my train of thought. What was I talking about?’
Q. My wife and I both work from home. We happen to have three friends called Sue, all of whom ring up on a regular basis. On the telephone they all sound identical, and so when one of them rings to speak to my wife I struggle to find a tactful way of identifying which
Q. I live in a two-bedroom flat. It is not spacious but happens to be in the centre of Mayfair. By and large I welcome overnight guests. However, among their number is a couple who were essentially friends of my former girlfriend rather than me but who have become used to the convenience of the
Q. I have been building a small business, so far single-handedly, with a tiny bit of input from my parents. We live in a tight-knit rural community and a couple of unemployed graduate friends, still living at home like me, on hearing that I may be expanding soon, have asked me to employ them. They
Q. My first book comes out next month and the publishers are launching it with a drinks party in a London bookshop between 6.30 and 8 p.m. I can count at least 20 old friends and family, to say nothing of my editor and publicist, who will naturally expect me to have dinner with them
Q. I gave a drinks party at which I introduced two men who should have got on well. Instead one, who had had a bit too much to drink, became verbally aggressive, using a disagreement over architecture as the pretext for attacking the other. Despite my knowing the aggressor so well, and despite the passivity
Q. I was amused by your correspondent ‘J.P.’ (16 April) who complained of her daughter-in-law’s ‘bosom flashing’ at dinner parties. A similar thing happened at a house party in France this year: one of the female guests wore an open shirt so loosely knotted that ‘J.P.’ would have been even more shocked. The woman opposite
Q. We have friends who we would like to see much more of but when they come to dinner they always stay until 1 a.m. — often a full three hours after we have got down. This even when all other guests have left, saying they have to be up early and they know we
Q. I was interested to see Charles Moore’s italicisation of the word ‘patio’ in the issue of 30 July. We have a paved area in our garden at home, but my wife and I are unsure of what it should be called. What would you suggest? —S.B., Somerset A. Charles Moore was writing about the
Q. I recently attended a house-cooling party. There were haybales around bonfires, barbecues and dancing to iPods with speakers. The house was open — although most of the furniture had gone — and we were invited to bring our own bedding if we wanted to sleep over. My 16-year-old daughter and I had a plane
Q. We live in New Zealand and under our ‘business immigration scheme’ a delightful Korean family has moved into the neighbourhood. They are required to buy a business and provide local employment opportunities. Accordingly, they have bought a café, but they do not seem to have any knowledge of the hospitality trade, nor much English.
Q. I am a governor of a top girls’ school in central London. When we are invited by the headmistress to school events by email, one of the other governors replies to every person in the group email. Obviously this reflects rather badly on my fellow governor — either she has not grasped the significance
Q. I am one of eight retired golfers who once a week enjoy a sociable but not too serious game on our local course. Recently the wife of one of our group has taken to joining us and, although we are all good friends, we would prefer the weekly game to remain an all-male affair.
Your problems solved Q. The Welsh have this annoying habit of turning up unannounced. I think it must derive from the days when they all lived in little terraces beneath the pits and the mines, and it was a come-one-come-all community. In 1978 I moved to England, but I still find that Welsh persons on