your problEMs solvEd
Dear Mary
Q. While staying in Gascony a local grandee, with a formidable brain and a château of great historical importance, was invited to dine. As dinner proceeded one of the two female houseguests seated next to him transmogrified herself from a kind, cosy, close and down-to-earth friend of mine, into a cross between Simone de Beauvoir, Françoise Hardy and some sort of Mata Hari. She poured (recently acquired) intellectual and musical opinions down the poor throat of the Frenchman while the other female friend, who also lives in an important house in England, was able to chat amiably and casually to this rather imposing guest. My hostess speaks perfect French and thus she too was able to exchange Proustian pleasantries. My presence went almost entirely unnoticed. Then suddenly I saw my moment and told the story of my brother finding a carpenter’s letter dated l6l7 in a secret drawer of my late aunt’s important secretaire, currently on display at the V&A. The Hardy/de Beauvoir houri screeched with laughter in a cruel and patronising way to the entire table that I was lying. I retreated hurt and humiliated (even though I spied the grandee smiling affectionately and sympathetically at me). I am a grown woman and in my own modest way well read and well rounded in political and intellectual thought — how can I be more assertive in situations such as this?
J.M., London SW1 Q. On Monday nights I like to go to bed early and am in no mood for socialising.
Yet recently we have received a blizzard of invitations for Monday nights, some of them issued weeks in advance by people who have cottoned on to the fact that unless they have parties on that night no one will be able to come because Wednesdays and Thursdays are so busy. Last Monday we went to a barbecue to which I had reluctantly agreed, on the grounds that I would not have to make too much effort, could just cram my face and slip away saying I had to relieve the babysitter, and leave my wife to socialise, which she loves. Instead it turned out to be sit-down dinner inside because of the bad weather. How can I just say to people that I have a blanket ban on going out on Mondays without appearing to be a grumpy old git?
A.C., London W11 Q. I never know what to say when writer friends ask me what I thought of their new books. Is there an all-covering excuse for not having read them?
Name and address withheld
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