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Dear Mary

Dear Mary, from Joanna Lumley: what do you get someone who insists they don’t want a present?

16 December 2023

9:00 AM

16 December 2023

9:00 AM

From Henry Blofeld

Q. The other day I went to an all-male dinner party of about 20 people in a highly respectable club. I spent the first few minutes shaking hands with most of the other people there and was horrified to find that quite a number of them kept their left hands in their trouser pockets while I did so. I was brought up to believe that this is extremely discourteous and I think it looks so sloppy. I have no idea what the official etiquette is, but I am delighted to have been given the chance to find out. What do you think, Mary?

A. The official etiquette? It is extremely bad manners to keep one hand in a pocket during an introduction – the atavistic reason being fear of a concealed weapon. Younger men may well have been influenced by images of the American actor George Clooney, who routinely keeps his left hand in his pocket during red-carpet Hollywood events.

From Joanna Lumley

Q. What would you consider an acceptably tiny present for people who have everything and say they want nothing for Christmas? I can’t bear not giving anything; but maybe a paperback or a bar of soap might be too small. I am useless at baking so shall not attempt any home-baked goods, and my embroidery skills are pretty shabby so I shall not be able to initial a handkerchief. You always supply such wonderful solutions to problems, so please help me, Mary, in my hour of need. I suppose helium balloons are out of the question.

A. Helium balloons are a charming idea but can terrify dogs. Instead give an exquisitely wrapped mini-package of a sheet of first-class stamps – perhaps the special edition called River Wildlife? You can buy 25 of these for £31.25. Every civilised person needs stamps and yet they are so difficult to remember to buy.

From Nigel Havers

Q. I would be grateful for advice on how to avoid screaming at cyclists in Hyde Park who ignore the no-cycling lanes as they run down innocents enjoying a stroll, playing with their dogs and children, or just generally trying to stay alive. If I continue to hurl abuse at these thoughtless people my voice will disappear and I will be unable to remain in my present profession.

A. You will have seen the occasional hobby cyclist with hi-vis, folding ‘lollipop safety flags’ projecting from their wheels to aggress motorists who might invade their space. Play the offenders at their own game by customising a walking gilet to accommodate a pair of these flags to be attached to your own waist while walking. They will give you a buffer zone of approximately 12in on either side.

From Adrian Chiles


Q. I used to be on television a lot, now not so much. This is something friends and strangers alike tend to remark upon. Not in a nasty way, rather out of concern for me – which is, of course, worse. The question I really dread is: ‘Have you got anything in the pipeline?’ Always this notional pipeline. And all too often there’s nothing in my wretched pipeline. ‘Bits and bobs’, ‘irons in the fire’ and ‘sod all’, while honest, feel like unsatisfactory responses. Can you suggest anything better?

A. As a popular Radio 5 presenter you have nothing to skulk about. Instead, smile and confide: ‘This has become a problem for TV producers. Once a presenter gets a radio show they never want to do telly again. No changing location, faffing with make-up every ten minutes, standing around outside in the cold, endless reshoots. Radio wins the toss every time.’

From Cressida Bonas

Q. I’m nosey and like to eavesdrop. I have the ability to engage in a conversation while subtly listening to someone else close by. I’m skilled at this in restaurants, parties and on the no. 19 bus. While it’s a risky game, I often hear intriguing and extraordinary things. Nevertheless, it’s only a matter of time before I get caught. What do you advise to curb this dangerous habit?

A. No need to curb it if you find it rewarding. If caught, claim that you are preparing an update of Andrew Barrow’s 1987 collection of anonymous overheard snippets. The Great Book of Small Talk is a fascinating piece of social anthropology and the genre is well due for an update.

From Gyles Brandreth

Q. I am lucky enough to know a number of people in public life. Some of them sadly appear to suffer from bouts of lalochezia. This is distressing to me and not good for them. To avoid embarrassment, should I avoid these people in future, or are there ways in which I could help them?

A. Begin carrying a clearly marked swear box. Grin benignly as you ask: ‘Would you be interested in contributing to the so-and-so charity? They are trying to raise funds this year via swear boxes. I promised I would try to help. Would £1 a word be OK?’

From Edwina Currie

Q. How can I stop people arguing with me about who I am or who I may be? So many otherwise obviously well-bred souls (usually gentlemen) approach with ‘No! You can’t be’, or even ‘What are you doing here?’ To which accurate replies might be, ‘Yes I can’ and ‘Probably the same as you’ (purchasing vegetables or buying a G&T at the theatre bar). But both responses sound rather rude. Please advise.

A. Better to act daft. Reply: ‘How lovely to see you again. What have you been up to since we last met?’ Stay silent while they answer. In this way you transfer the embarrassment.

From Sharron Davies

Q. I have a beautiful granddaughter called Ariya who I look after every week. It’s my favourite day of the week without question. Come January, a beautiful grandson is due to make an arrival. I still have a rugby-playing 6ft 2in 16-year-old son at home and a 30- and 25-year-old, though they have flown the nest. I have now done nearly 31 years with hungry children in the house. Any advice for a weary cook who gets tempted to open a ready meal after decades of preparing hearty suppers, and now seems to be starting all over again with no break in canteen services?

A. Humans are programmed to take for granted the provider of kitchen comforts. They only appreciate it retrospectively when it stops. Announce that everyone is still more than welcome but every Monday, for example, they can cook for themselves. The contrast will startle them into gratitude, which will enhance your own attitude towards the drudgery.

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