YOUR PROBLEMS SOLVED
Dear Mary.. .
Q. I am a trainer and recently, on my way to saddle a runner at an evening meeting at Chepstow, I arrived at the toll-gate of the Severn Bridge only to find that I had not a Penny on me with which to pay the toll of £3.80. I offered my credit card but to no avail: they did not take credit cards and I had no cheque with which to back it up. Time was ticking on but the toll-gate offi- cials were deaf to my pleas. The banks were closed and I have no idea what my 'pin number' is. Then I had a brilliant idea. I drove to the nearest garage and hung around the forecourt. After a sequence of snubs from people who thought I was mad, I persuaded one customer to allow me to Pay for his petrol on my credit card while he gave me cash. I then raced over the bridge in triumph in time to saddle my run- ner. I thought I would pass on this tip to readers who might well find themselves in the same situation one day.
Name and address withheld A. It was good of you to contribute this use- ful nugget.
Q. I am a pseudo-academic — in fact a for- mer television music and arts producer. This June, I was a guest at a quasi-academ- ic occasion at my old college to celebrate the centenary of a poet alumnus. The gath- ering was also open to a wider constituency and, arriving unaccompanied, I was greeted by an agreeable acquaintance, one of a group I had directed on a study course only a few weeks previously. He is a respectable fellow, a former borough librarian, a man of laudable interests but few words and conventional social graces. Not knowing anyone there, it was to be expected that he would latch onto me, leech-like, and stay by my side. It was an occasion of ties, sober alfresco and summer frocks. My acquain- tance, in his sixties, was sporting T-shirt and tight blue jeans sawn off at the crotch. My sole; rather base, concern was to circu- late and impress. But how to do this when the college's teaching staff was looking askance at my 'friend'? How should I, with- out appearing heartless, have abandoned my acquaintance, redeemed my reputation and sought the company I so anxiously wished to impress?
Name and address withheld A. After a short while you should have turned to your companion and, drawing a deep sigh, confided in a low mutter, 'I've started to dread this sort of occasion in the last few years. Time was when you could just enjoy yourself. Now you've got to do this ghastly "networking", haven't you? I'm always being told I'm hopeless at it. Still, I'd better be brave and dive in there. See you later!'
Q. Not Cole Porter — it was Irving Berlin's line 'Simply reeks of class' from Top Hat. Can't you just hear Fred Astaire complain- ing up there? Perhaps the hot climate has affected the memory of your correspondent in Bombay (20 July)?
M.A.B., Birkdale, Southport A. Thank you for setting the record straight.
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