Q. I belong to the clerical profession, one to which, in theory, a certain dignity adheres. I particularly dislike ‘trendy’ abbreviations of my Christian name. On meeting recently a new ecumenical colleague I introduced myself as ‘David’ and he replied: ‘Oh great, I’m a Dave too!’ I was lost for words. What should I have
Q. We normally drive guests departing our house in France to our nearest station for trains connecting them to Eurostar. One departing guest, an attractive divorcee, had half an hour to kill, so I suggested a croissant and coffee, which meant lugging her very heavy case over to the café and back again to the
Q. Thank you for your advice regarding my ‘fecundity’ question (24 March), but I did refer in my question to a gastronomic salon i.e. a private house. The location was not a restaurant and no need to drop credit cards around! —R.S., Bombay A. I must apologise to readers for advising R.S. how to shake
Q. After dining at a well-known gastronomic salon in Bombay with two gap-year visitors, together with two exceptionally pretty girls working in Bombay, we were sitting in a side room, whereupon a gentleman with a straggly beard tried to join our group with the following comment: ‘Eh… fecundity — there is nothing like a polysyllablic
Q. My daughter’s bedroom window has a clear view down into next door’s kitchen. Yesterday she drew my attention to several mice who were bolting out of the kitchen skirting, feasting on crumbs and having a high old time while my neighbour (who is very nice but not a bosom pal) was safely upstairs putting
Q. Over the last 20 years four of my closest friends have moved abroad. The good thing is that they come to stay with me when they are in London. The bad thing is that invariably, when they are packing up to leave our house for their cheap flights, they find that they have somehow
Q. A talented young man helps me out as an intern. Sadly I can’t personally offer him full-time work but I have a close friend who will be recruiting shortly. This man tells me he will be looking for young people who are bilingual and super-bright — but that he prefers school leavers to graduates
Q. Our son is at school in England with the son of a billionaire. They have become friends and we would like to invite the child for the week-end. However, our own manor house, while of historic and architectural significance, does not offer the opulence to which our prospective guest might be accustomed. How can
Q. In the light of WikiLeaks and Facebook, should the Chatham House rules still apply in civilised society? My life is rather mouvementé just now and, although I have no immediate plans to publish it, I feel it a duty to keep a diary. Unfortunately my wife thinks there is an element of sneakiness about
Q. At a drinks party I was introduced to a senior politician and found myself lost for words. I was not overawed, Mary, the problem was that although I admire the man, every gambit which went through my head seemed to be intrusive, patronising, critical, grovelling or stalker-like. I would like to be better prepared
Q. I have two sons. The elder speaks in RP, like his parents; the younger with an estuarine accent. They went to the same state school. What should I say when acquaintances who have met both boys question this anomaly? I find it difficult to explain without making both sons seem pretentious. — Name withheld,
Q. How, when you have asked people for drinks at seven, can you make sure that they do not stay all evening? We recently moved to the country at weekends and my husband has invited some neighbours to come up for a drink on Saturday night. It did not occur to him that, because they
Q. A friend gives regular dinner parties with all the potential to be brilliant events. She knows wonderful people and always has an interesting mix. She has a flat in Chelsea. She is a beautiful, stylish and generous woman but she rarely gets the food on the table before 10 p.m., by which time people
Q. A close friend has married, in later life, a very nosy and mischievous man. She adores him and keeps boasting about what a computer wizard he is. Unfortunately, I have sound reason to believe he has been hacking into my emails and reading them. It was pretty smart of him to work out my
Q. Each year I send out about 130 Christmas cards and get back about 80. This year I received 40. I have no reason to think that I have become less popular. Can you shed any light on this disheartening development, Mary? — J.F., London SW12 A. Many people simply could not afford to send
From Craig Brown Q. As I get older I find myself more and more afflicted by dindinitis, which is probably best defined as a morbid dread of dinner parties. Within ten minutes of sitting down, I find that I am tongue-tied and so too is everyone else. Short of ‘You must give me the recipe’
Q. Each year I help to organise a big Christmas event for charity. In October I write to all my rich friends inviting them to buy tickets. Some loyally do, others say they won’t be able to come but send donations anyway. A third lot don’t even bother to reply. Falling into this last category
Q. I volunteer for a charity one morning a week. This happens on one of the mornings when my cleaner comes. I have a feeling that as soon as I have gone out she knocks off early, knowing I won’t be back, although she still has another 45 minutes to go. I cannot put my
Q. The other day, when making a purchase in a rather poncy shop, I was taken aback when the assistant stared directly at the keypad while I was entering my PIN. Normally they make a point of rather ostentatiously looking away, but this one made a point of ostentatiously looking at the pad. I could
Q. When we lived in the country we had a close friend virtually next door. We always dropped in and out of each other’s houses without ringing first; one is always ‘ready’ for visitors in the country in a way one is not in London. The problem is that this man, who we absolutely adore,