Q. Some older American friends take me and my husband out to dinner once a year when they are over in London. They are very old-school and it’s always a gastronomic feast. Last autumn – and I’ve been mulling this over in my head since then – we went to one of London’s best hotels,
21 min listen
Freddy Gray questions Biden’s supposed ‘hot streak’ (00:55), Mary Killen warns that a neighbourly feud is worse than a hosepipe ban (07:19) and Jonathan Miller talks about France’s sexual civil war (11:43).
We know many water companies are themselves guilty of profligate waste through unrepaired leaks. So to snitch on a neighbour, who is making a comparatively tiny personal contribution to the drought, seems petty. But we are only human and it is hard to watch your flowers and vegetables wither and die while your neighbour is
Q. My 74-year-old husband was having drinks in the garden of some young clients when he bit down on an olive with a huge stone in the middle. He heard a crack and picked the stone out of his mouth – along with what he thought was a splinter of tooth – and threw the
Q. My parents are abroad for two months and as my flatmates in London are all, like me, working from home, I’ve moved to their country cottage to get some peace. This is an idyllic and very community-based village but one unforeseen problem has arisen. The house is at the end of a cul-de-sac lane
Q. Everyone was divine at a very jolly lunch I attended in the Cotswolds with the exception of one person, who everyone else seems to know and like, but about whom I have always had a mild phobia. Fortunately I didn’t have to sit anywhere near him but when I wrote to my host he
Q. I was billeted for a party in Norfolk with a couple previously unknown to me. They were more than welcoming but quite formal – hence I felt awkward about asking them if they could change a £50 note so I could leave £10 for their cleaner (it was all I had in my wallet).
Q. I have found parties frustrating this month because they have been too crowded. Is there a polite way to get through a really packed event without stopping to talk to any number of people you know and like and have things to say to, when someone you particularly want to talk to is at
Q. This year once again my company took a small group of clients to lunch at Royal Ascot. Our guests included a couple of former clients we asked along for old times’ sake. These have both written not only to thank us but to say we can count them in for next year’s lunch as
Q. I have heard news of a forthcoming party which I would really love to attend. The problem is that the party is being given by a man I have met on a handful of occasions, during which we always got on like a house on fire. Unfortunately we twice left the ball in my
Q. My girlfriend and I have started using a personal trainer for some joint sessions at our local gym; the sessions are generally very good and we are really enjoying them. The issue is that the trainer spends quite a lot of the time on his mobile phone and it often distracts him from what
Q. A close friend, who has lost most of her income in recent years, has done something disfiguring to a front tooth – it looks as if she’s used Polyfilla to repair it herself. She tries to never smile so no one will see, but sadly it is highly visible. I’d be happy to pay
45 min listen
In this week’s episode: Is the Prime Minister a dead man walking? Spectator Political Editor James Forsyth and MP Jesse Norman who expressed no confidence in Monday’s vote discuss the future of Boris Johnson and the Conservative Party. (00:45) Also this week:Why is there so much virtue signalling in modern advertising? Spectator Columnist Lionel Shriver and
Q. As a mildly famous professional cook, I agreed to judge a children’s cake-baking competition at the summer fête of the tiny village I have just moved to. Subsequent conversations have worried me as I have learnt that the parents of these under-tens are taking the competition very seriously. It’s clear that the awarding of
Q. In order to raise money for a worthwhile cause, I have agreed to open my garden for the first time and provide a sit-down lunch for 30. My problem is that there are certain local people who I really don’t want to come and snoop around, but I fear that once they see the
Q. My wife’s father, who she adored, has died and she is to be his sole beneficiary. She intends to import a mass of low-grade ‘ornaments’ and unappealing furniture into our home. I’m afraid these things will, to be blunt, lower the tone of the house I inherited myself. I am fairly well-known in the
Q. I’m 28 and lucky enough to own a four-bed house in Notting Hill. I let three of the rooms to friends. One of these now has her boyfriend over regularly. It was fine when he just stayed the night occasionally but he is now omnipresent and even brings his dirty washing over. The boyfriend
Q. Some years ago, much to the surprise of our many friends in London, my husband and I moved to a remote village in Wales. We have never regretted it and often enthused to others about the area. Now we have been taken by surprise since two friends have bought a house in our village,
Q. We went for lunch over the bank holiday with the parents of one of my son’s schoolfriends. We had hardly talked to them before this. They and their friends were perfectly nice but my problem is that the slightly pushy wife kept photographing us. I am not on social media myself and had no
Q. As a publisher, I have been fortunate to discover an unpublished writer who is the author of some truly remarkable poetry. I have made my selection and want to go ahead with his first collection, but my stumbling block is that he is adamant that, along with the remarkable verses, I must include other
