YOUR PROBLEMS SOLVED
Dear Mary.. .
Q. Recently at a party I was asked to dance by a very unattractive MP. I did not enjoy the physical intimacy of the experience nor being the cynosure of all eyes but how could I have refused his invitation? Had I claimed to have injured my feet, as I toyed with doing, he would only have seen me later on tripping the light fantastic with another man. The whole business was deeply embarrassing. What should I have done, Mary?
M.W, London SW3 A. When the MP made his approach you should have leant towards him and mur- mured secretively, 'I can't risk it. My boyfriend is convinced that I fancy you.'
Q. I am planning to give a large-ish party in my garden this summer. In previous years I have been driven to despair by people's failure to reply to the invitation. It means I have no idea how much food or drink to order, quite apart from the fact that I am denied the pleasure of anticipating the presence of certain people and the chance to prepare myself mentally for the handling of difficult types. How can I force people to make a quick response?
Name withheld; London W2 A. Have your invitations printed with the wrong day of the week on them. For exam- ple, 'Sunday 1 May'. People will ring up in droves to establish the correct date and you can seize the opportunity to ask them whether or not they will, in fact, be able to attend. You can then make a secondary sweep of those people who have not been in touch, ringing them to apologise for the printing error and asking them, or their machines, to confirm that they have received your message.
Q. My husband is hopeless at leaving par- ties. Whenever it is time to go he always becomes most animated and, as we are walking to the door, starts broaching the big subjects, 'Does God exist?' and so on. You can see the look of dread coming over people's faces as the new topics keep on coming while we stand in the door with the wind whistling around. But although my husband has admitted he is at fault in this area, he somehow always tends to forget when the moment for departure comes round. I am cast in the role of nagging spoilsport and end by giving the impression that I cannot wait to get away, which is not usually the case. As I do not drink I am usually ready for bed at nine o'clock any- way, so my husband's weakness makes me suffer doubly what a drinker would.
Name and address withheld A. As you get up to go, why not say, 'I'm just going to dash out to the car and open it up,' then deliberately set your car alarm going? You can then rush back into the house crying, 'Can you come, darling? I don't seem to be able to turn it off.' The shock of the bracing night air and the shrieking alarm should be enough to bring your husband to his senses.
Mary Killen
If you have a problem, write to Dear Mary clo The Spectator, 56 Doughty Street, London WC1N 2LL.
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