YOUR PROBLEMS SOLVED
Dear Mary. . .
Q. The practice of celebrating one's birth- day by inviting friends to a restaurant and then asking them to split the bill seems to be on the increase. Invitations to these nar- cissistic events are usually issued in such a way that it is only after you have committed yourself that it becomes clear that the evening is going to cost you upwards of £50 (before the present). What is more, on arrival at the restaurant you usually find that someone has organised the seating plan so that you are stuck between two peo- ple with whom you have nothing in com- mon except friendship with the birthday girl or boy. You also have to undergo the tor- ture of listening to 15 or 20 people being slow and stupid about ordering, slow and stupid about remembering what they have ordered when the food arrives, and finally of having to pay for their wine and cham- pagne when you've just had a Diet Coke. Sorry to sound vitriolic.
CD. and A.C., London A. Not at all. Next time you receive one of these invitations accept it eagerly, only giv- ing the proviso that you'll just check your diary as you have a nagging feeling that you're doing something. . . oh dear, yes you are. But never mind, 'it's only for the early part of the evening,' you can assert truthfully (after all, you will be doing something), 'so would it be all right if I come along at about ten thirty for coffee, and then go on with you to Arherever you are going afterwards?' This system allows you to turn up when all the tedium is over, pull up a chair between the two people you most want to sit between and just throw down 50 pence for your coffee when the bill comes round. It also allows you to 'cancel' the thing you were originally doing' should you find out, as the preceding days develop, that only a hard core of besties are actually going along and, indeed, that some- body else is paying.
Q. We are a group of professional artists who make a living by painting yet we are continu- ally greeted by friends and acquaintances with the remark 'Are you still painting?' We find this incredibly boring — after all, we don't ask them 'Are you still banking or plumbing or typing?' I tried once saying, 'No, I'm not,' in a. sarcastic voice, but this was received with such distress by the friend that it was even more boring to sort it out and confess that I was still 'at it'. Any ideas?
B.M., Hemel Hempstead A. The correct response is to look sur- prised, then say, 'Yes, I expect I am.' Give a short snort of laughter, then add, 'And I expect you're still banking/plumbing/typing, aren't you?'
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