Modern Manners E-Book

Philip Howard

• Herausgeber: The Robson Press
• Kategorie: Lebensstil
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013

Seitenzahl: 290

Beschreibung

For many years Philip Howard has delighted Times readers with his wildly popular 'Modern Times' column, answering questions on contemporary etiquette and acting as confidant and gleeful guide to those attempting to avoid the pitfalls and perils of modern life. Now, drawing on that wealth of wisdom, he offers solutions to modern-day mysteries and solves all manner of social dilemmas. From sartorial suggestions to gastronomic guidance, and with tips on how best to deal with noisy neighbours, irritating in-laws and pesky pets, Philip Howard will prevent you from ever putting a foot wrong. Witty, informative and often hilarious, and with delightful cartoons by Jonathan Pugh, Modern Manners is the perfect companion piece to life in the twenty-first century, and the quintessential gift book.

Leseprobe

Contents

Title PageIntroduction  Basic manners Table manners Eating out Social greetings How not to put your foot in it Sartorial dilemmas Money matters Guests and entertaining Parenting nightmares Family feuds Neighbours and flatmates Speaking up and when to hold your tongue Affairs of the heart Weddings, funerals and other social gatherings The working world The Highway Code: accepting lifts and giving up your seat What is the correct term? Pets, or should I say pests…? Situations too awkward to fit in elsewhere Unpublished material  Copyright

Introduction

‘Manners Maketh Man.’ That was the motto of William of Wykeham (1324–1404), Bishop of Winchester, Chancellor of England and founder of the second best public school. Our first written record is from a manuscript of about 1350: ‘Maner makys man.’ This has become a proverb. But we have changed his meaning. As far as we can interpret his words, by manners William meant something like the customary code of behaviour. As Hamlet, explaining the drunken revelry in his uncle’s court, says to Horatio:

But to my mind, though I am native here

And to the manner born, it is a custom

More honoured in the breach than the observance.

When The Times introduced an etiquette column by John Morgan, I raised a priggish eyebrow. He was the fashion editor of the Gentlemen’s Quarterly, and possessed sixty made-to-measure suits, three hundred monogrammed shirts, ninety pairs of shoes and more opera cloaks and silk hats than even Solomon in all his glory kept in his cupboard. I imagined that Times readers needed no advice on how to dress or behave. I was wrong. Morgan’s Manners was a raging success. When he died, possibly a suicide (the coroner’s inquest returned an open verdict), falling from his flat on the top of The Albany (by Piccadilly: the smartest block in town), The Times decided that nobody could treat fashion as seriously as John Morgan, and appointed me to treat manners differently.

Down seven centuries we changed manners to mean ‘good’ manners, polite behaviour, i.e. etiquette. This French word originally meant a soldier’s billet for lodging, from which we take our word ticket or label. The history of the development in French from label to prescribed routine is not clear. But etiquette has come to mean the conventional rules of ‘personal’ behaviour observed in the ‘intercourse’ of ‘polite’ society. Cave! That sentence contains a number of value judgements. ‘Homo sum, humani nil a me alienum puto.’ (I’m a human, so I count nothing human foreign to me.) So said the polite Terence.

I could not possibly share Morgan’s passion for his subject. I am not notorious for being a snazzy dresser. I own no opera cloak, and have only one pair of shoes/boots, given to me by a member of a touring Australian rugby team. My friends raised eyebrows at the appointment.

I resolved to approach it differently, not taking it as a quasi-religion or a decorative art form, but with a beady eye to the peculiarity and beauty of human behaviour.

I sometimes misspelt ‘etiket’ in a permissive way, for a joke, to suggest that rules even of spelling, like those of manners, are subjective and transient. It is, of course, not just wrong to spell ‘etiket’, but a crime against etymology. You are obscuring the roots of the word. That is why Shavian projects to reform spelling phonetically are misguided, as well as impractical. Whose pronunciation would our spelling copy? Memphis, Manchester, or Mumbai? And we would have to reprint the whole of literature from Beowulf to Auden.

Manners are not a fixed code. Autres temps, autres mœurs. Stone Age man must have devised the original rude codes of manners about who took first bite of the woolly mammoth, or he would not have survived.

We are at present working out the correct manners for using mobile phones, iPods, iPhones and the other tools of our Age of Information, as well as that tricksy doxy, Miss Information.

Autres lieux, autres mœurs. In England the Augustan Age, of the Restoration and early eighteenth century, of Dr Johnson and Swift, is considered a time of good manners, though Sam was an untidy eater. And that name refers back to the supposed golden age of the Emperor Augustus, and his poet Horace, who was witty about manners. The Regency, with Beau Brummel, did manners. Let us not confuse manners with mannerism. We look back on the Edinburgh of David Hume and Adam Smith, and the Enlightenment generally in Europe, as a time of good manners.

In France, the fountain of manners, the golden age is considered that of Louis XIV, the Sun King, and le petit snob, the Duc de Saint-Simon, who managed to write vast tomes on the superficially jejune subject of who takes off his hat first to whom, and why. Black Watch officers, and I dare say those from lesser regiments, are ordered always to wear hats when in civvies out of barracks, so that they can return salutes from Jocks, and salute ladies whom they meet.

Some etiquette is fuss and feathers, with no practical use beyond setting parameters for snobbery. The Byzantine princess, Maria Agropoulaino, is credited with introducing the fork to Western European dinner tables. When she married the son of the Doge of Venice in ad 1004, she used a golden double prong to convey food to her mouth. Everybody else used their fingers. Maria was widely criticised by the bishop and the court for bad manners. The etiquette for passing port after dinner, especially in the Royal Navy, is majestically complex. And shame on him who tries to pass it anticlockwise, or is slow to pass on the decanter when he has refilled his own glass.

Some etiquette has mildly utilitarian purpose: for example that the man should walk on the outside of the woman on the pavement, in order to protect her from splashes from hansom cabs and horsemen, or, these days, rogue drivers of double-decker buses. A correspondent contrived a paradox. What is the etiquette, he asked, for a man escorting a woman down a path with a road on one side, and a river on the other? Should he shield her from being splashed by cars or motor boats? There was never a shortage of correspondents, some earnest seekers after advice, others mobbing the subject up.

There is a mildly utilitarian point for a gent opening the door for a lady, except when it is raining, when he leads the way in order to open the umbrella for her. And what is the correct procedure with revolving doors? We devised a Saint-Simon etiquette that the man goes first, but goes round twice, so that he can protect the lady in front and behind, and pick up anything such as an umbrella that the lady has dropped. A Spanish dance troupe were late for their performance, and rushed to the revolving doors to exit from their hotel. They got stuck in the door. Which just shows that you should not put all your Basques in one exit.

And some etiquette matters quite a lot. It is bad manners and shameful not to reply to invitations, or to thank for hospitality or presents. How can your host(ess) seat her dinner table, without knowing if you are coming? How can Great Aunt Fanny know how your writing is improving, if you do not write her a thank you letter? When Sir Philip Sidney was dying on the battlefield of Zutphen in 1586, he gave his water-bottle to a dying soldier, saying: ‘Thy necessity is yet greater than mine.’ That was the pinnacle of good manners as well as Christian behaviour.

The golden rule of all good manners – the only one that really matters – is to cause least pain to other people. Do unto others as you would be done by. Behave yourself, like a decent lady or gent.

Basic manners

Is it considered bad etiquette to laugh at one’s own jokes?

Marcus S., Brighton

Depends on the joke and the company. Extroverts laugh. Introverts deadpan, which is probably more effective, especially if nobody else is laughing. The overriding principle is not to offend the sensitive by immoderate cachinnation at an inappropriate joke. The best wit is dry and quiet – the stiletto rather than the blunderbuss.

If you wish something to be repeated, what do you say? ‘Pardon?’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ ‘Sorry?’ Or ‘What?’

S. J. Dodwell, Taunton

The genteel say: ‘Pardon?’ This invites mockery from the coarse. The coarse grunt: ‘What?’ which invites shudders from the genteel. The courtierly mince: ‘I beg your pardon.’ The confused say: ‘Sorry?’ The incoherent gabble: ‘Cheers?’ The proud march on regardless. Most Brits mumble a confused mixture. The lesson is to speak up and listen to what our collocutors are trying to say.

What is the etiquette about eating in the street? My girlfriend tells me that it is bad manners.

Paul Atcliffe, Manchester

Your girlfriend has good, old-fashioned manners. For the strictly educated, it is offensive to eat in public, except in a public restaurant or other place devoted specifically to eating. There may be exceptions. By the seaside, where manners are more breezy. It is piggish, low-life bad manners to eat (especially smelly food, such as burgers with onions) on public transport.

Is it polite to blow one’s nose in public? My colleague is of the reasoned opinion that a quiet blow is preferable to continual sniffling or personal discomfort.

Richard Walker, London

Some blow their noses like trumpets and some like flutes. It should not be necessary to leave the room in order to blow one’s nose. But I should turn away, and muffle my nose in a large red-spotted hanky. It is vulgar to inspect the contents of the hanky afterwards. The gent and lady conduct their acts of petty hygiene discreetly and as silently as possible. We all need to blow our noses. But we should do so without making a Wagnerian scene or the Trumpet Sonata about it. Our friends should be unaware that we have done it, except, perhaps, for admiring our red-spotted hanky.

I am conservative in my attitude to women. I open doors for them, hand ladies into cars, kiss their hands, take off my hat in greeting. Have these courtesies become funny or just ridiculous?

Alex Pan, address withheld

It depends on how and to whom you perform your gallantries. Kissing hands has become very Sir Percy Blakeney. Kissing cheeks is the modern courtesy. Whatever you do, you should avoid being patronising or ostentatious in your gallantry. I know a number of young women who would fall about laughing or belt you with their bags if you tried to kiss their hands.

I was brought up, admittedly some time ago, to believe that it was rude and casual to appear in public with my hands in my pockets. So why does the Prince of Wales, who is no longer a small boy, continually appear with his left hand in his jacket pocket with the thumb protruding? And with his right hand he makes woolly circular gestures in the air in an effort to illustrate the woolly things that he is saying.

Adrian Macdonald, Dumfries

What to do with one’s hands is a problem for all public performers. The Duke of Edinburgh adopts the stand-at-ease solution of the Armed Forces, with hands clasped behind his back. Whatever solution you adopt looks self-conscious once you start to think about it. Your hands and arms feel as though they are growing as fast as Jack’s beanstalk. The Prince of Wales’s left hand in coat pocket is a sensible solution. It is less casual than putting it in his trouser pocket and the protruding thumb makes it clear that this is a conventional posture, and that he is not fumbling for gum or loose change.

What is the correct way to refuse an invitation to an event because I simply do not want to go to it?

O. R., Norwich

A formal refusal runs (along the lines of): ‘Mr (and Mrs) Olaf Rasmussen thanks Mrs Hans Andersen for her kind invitation to her daughter Margrethe’s wedding (or son Pietr’s Bar Mitzvah), and greatly regrets that a previous engagement makes it impossible for him to accept.’ Economy with the truth is acceptable (obligatory?) on such occasions. It would be rude (even if true) to refuse by saying ‘I hate weddings’, or ‘I have never liked Margrethe’. Less formal ‘No shows’ are OK by e-mail, phone or card, especially to close friends. And they are more in tune with modern distaste for pomp and hypocrisy. The important politeness is to get your refusal off early, as soon as you make up your mind, in order to allow your disappointed hosts to reckon their numbers.

When shown to a table in a restaurant and being accompanied by a female companion should I lead her to the table or should I walk behind her? What is the recommended order for walking in other tight spots, e.g. stairs? Who should take the lead?

Markus Pieracki, London

Should the man be an icebreaker or an escort sailing behind? It has to be played by ear and eye, according to the companion. For example, usually the gent opens the door and lets the lady through first. But if the door opens onto belting rain the true gent goes first in order to open his umbrella. But, as in all other social situations, the principal object is to make one’s friends feel comfortable. In restaurants this may often mean that the man leads the way. But he does so like a frigate leading the admiral’s battleship, not like the admiral himself in his flagship.

I am annoyed each time that my partner receives a call at home on his mobile telephone. He inevitably retreats to some nether region of our home to conduct his conversation. He never offers any sort of word before leaving or returning to my company. Should one politely excuse oneself to take the call?

Gary Rice, London

The etiket of mobile phones is new, sudden and evolving. I think that it is bad manners to give the mobile phone priority over real people who are there in your presence. I think that it would be better manners for your partner to make some sort of excuse or apology before plunging into conversation on his mobile. But we all have funny little ways. And I should not let a molehill of behaviour grow into a mountain of irritation.

Is it rude to take the last strawberry/biscuit/olive (my friends and I call it the ‘polite strawberry’), or should one leave it on the plate to be disposed of?

Sarah Phillips, Cheltenham

This is an agonising little Catch-22 of manners. It does seem absurd to leave the last olive to be binned or scoffed by the waiter. And a wicked waste. Rather than leave the polite strawberry or sad éclair, some decisive person (the hostess?) should take up the plate and pass it to the most modest member of the company, saying: ‘Go on, Sarah. Please finish it off.’ It is then polite to do as one’s host(ess) instructs one, and polish off the polite cream puff.

When two people approach a doorway from opposite sides, who is the first to pass through – the one who is leaving the room or the one who is entering? Does the ‘ladies first’ rule apply here if there is a conflict with doorway etiquette?

Greg Nixon, Dallas, Texas

What sort of room are we entering or leaving? I suppose that if we are leaving the grand audience chamber of the President or Queen, whoever is leaving should have precedence. But on most occasions let common sense and generosity lead. The gent opens the door to let others pass through, whatever their sex.

Any advice on the correct way to accept a compliment? I tend to look embarrassed and never know what to say.

J. M., Kendal

Accepting compliments gracefully is a (minor) social grace. We English are bad at it, perhaps because we are taught not to swank or be pleased with ourselves. The charming way to accept a compliment is with a light smile, a touch of humour, perhaps a graceful return shot if we can think of one on the spur of the moment, with all one’s nerves jangling at the unexpected social challenge. It is bad manners to ignore the compliment, po-faced, or to demand it as an automatic tribute as some (minor) celebs do. Accept it. Smile. Move on to more interesting topics.

When should men bow?

P. W., Esher

With prudence, modesty and discretion. Only in theatricals of English society, if you mean the full-scale melodramatic obeisance with left hand clutching belly, and right hand describing extravagant circles in the air. When meeting and taking leave of the Queen and other major royalties, a slight bowing of the head is in order, even for ladies who do not wish or cannot manage to curtsey.

My dear husband has a habit of picking his nose in public, and has no qualms about picking it on trains, planes, in the car or at the cinema. It embarrasses me terribly, yet he says: ‘It’s my nose and I will do what I like with it.’ All my efforts to get him to stop fall on uninterested ears. How do I get him to stop? Or is it me who has the problem?

Name and address withheld

Buy him at least two large red-spotted hankies, one for use, the other for the wash. Carry on telling him that he embarrasses you and probably others. But do so amiably. Do not let his small boy’s habit get up your nose. There are worse tricks. At least, as I understand it, your husband does not subsequently eat his nose-pick. Matrimony means that we have to put up with behaviour that we find offensive, over everything from lipstick to eating noises.

I have been brought up to understand that a gentleman should follow a lady up a staircase, and precede her down, presumably in case she should fall. A more modern protocol suggests that I should precede the lady up and follow her down, presumably to avoid my seeing too much of her legs. Which scenario is correct?

Noel Turner, Ryde, Isle of Wight

Tactful Tarzan! Ver-ray interesting. In days of old, when knights were bold, the man led the way up stairs. Partly because the man was deemed superior, partly in order that he could be the first to encounter enemy ambush. Your delicacy about ladies’ legs is charming but old-fashioned; legs are part of modern display and meant to be admired (but not ogled).

How can you stop total strangers – often in sales – asking earnestly how you are today when they call you at work? They don’t really want to know, and I certainly don’t want to tell them!

Miranda Spatchurst, Anonywhere

Inquiring how you are and telling you to have a nice day are part of the new code of human resource management and business management. They were invented in America by pushy firms such as McKinsey. They struck buttoned-up Brits as strange, inappropriate or even impertinent. But there is no need to go to the lengths of Kingsley Amis and other grumpy old men, who would reply: ‘I shall have exactly the kind of day I like, thank you.’ Let us grit our teeth and accept the slimy greeting as well-intentioned though hypocritical. At least their slogan is kinder than Dirty Harry saying: ‘Go ahead, make my day.’

As a child (long ago) I was told that the correct reply to ‘How are you?’ was ‘I’m very well, thank you,’ even if you were dying in agony. Is this still the best advice, or is it rather stuffy for the present day?

Andrew May, De Panne, Belgium

No. Not stuffy. But a conventional reflex reply to a conventional question that is really a greeting. Another reply to ‘Howdidoo?’ is ‘Howdidoo?’ back again. What is not required is a detailed description of the replier’s piles. I tend to reply: ‘So far, so good, thank you.’ These are indeed formal greetings. But they are more appropriate between some interlocutors (especially children) than ‘Ciao’ or ‘What ho!’. The German convention is more charming: ‘Gruss Gott.’

It is now commonplace when a man and a woman walk together along a pavement to see the lady nearest to the road. I understood that for good manners and chivalry the man should be positioned nearest to the road.

Brian Taplin, Devon

It used to be Rule 94 of Victorian etiquette that the man took the path nearest the street. The object was to spare the weaker sex from being sprayed with mud and horse dung from passing hoofed traffic. I can remember my grandfather reciting your rule, and also: ‘Bottle by the neck, woman by the waist.’ (He was legislating on how to hold them.) Streets are cleaner today, although double-decker buses still take a Neptunish delight in soaking me with puddles. Nobody believes any more that women are the weaker sex but grandpapa’s is still a perfectly good rule. Provided that you do not make a song and dance about it, as though you were Sir Walter Raleigh longing to lay his cloak down in a puddle.

What is your recipe for dealing with a notorious bore?

Peter Longfield, Marylebone

To smile sweetly, and sigh discreetly. The poet Horace suffered from a notorious bore on the Appian Way with good humour, and drew an amusing and affecting poem out of it. If you cannot escape, listen patiently, smile kindly and, like Horace, tolerate another passenger on this Ship of Fools. Assume that even a notorious bore means well.

What is the polite reaction to an embarrassing bodily noise?

Bill Coltart, Carlisle

Your or my embarrassing noise? Belch, borborygm or breaking wind in other ways? The schoolboy sniggers. The maiden blushes. The rugga bugga or Monsieur de Charlus makes a coarse joke. The exquisitely mannered ignore the noise, and carry on as though nothing had happened, without a flicker.

How many times should one apologise for an etiket misdemeanour? I say: once to friends and family, twice to strangers and three times for severe breaches of the rules to anyone.

Lyndall Barbour, Warminster

Three apologies run the risk of becoming a bore and an embarrassment. The British are shy of apologies and emotion. Stiff upper lip, for the sake of Jupiter. Jacky Fisher, the admiral, may have been going too far when he wrote, in a letter to The Times: ‘Never contradict. Never explain. Never apologise.’ Sorry is a disarming little word. But its performance needs to be kept short and sincere.

Table manners

I have a habit of making sounds while eating. How can I eat more quietly, especially when I am eating raw onions or chips etc.? This is a silly question, but I have tried several times and ended up being too slow or too noisy.

Jayant Prabhune, Pune, India

Not a silly question at all. Many have this problem. Sam Johnson, the secular patron saint of England, was a notoriously noisy and messy eater. All we messy eaters can do is to try to curb our hunger and/or greed, if necessary by eating a doughnut or Peshwari naan as padding before going out to dinner, to take the edge off our appetite. By taking it easy. By eating with our mouths shut, not open. The only manners that matter at table are not upsetting others by our behaviour. Slowness, cunning and stealth make such camouflage easier. We may even have to go easy on the raw onions in public, dammit.

There seems to be more of an acceptance of elbows on the dinner table at certain times these days. I was always told there was never a place for elbows on the table. Is there a place for elbows? If so when is it appropriate?

Luke Crabb, Sydney

Elbows on the table were considered bad manners in old-fashioned establishments. Victorian nannies who saw their charges with elbows on the table at meals would crash them down on the table as hard as possible, exclaiming as they did so: ‘All joints on the table are meant to be carved.’ Manners have changed. We are more relaxed than our grandparents, and even our parents. It is still bad manners to put one’s elbows on the table at a formal meal. It looks casual, and it is bad luck on your neighbour on the elbow side. But at less formal meals elbows are often rested on the table without causing offence.

What is the best way to act while dining when asked a question after just having had a mouthful of food? Do you hurriedly chew, looking rather unglamorous, or simply swallow your food and risk choking? Taking one’s time chewing before answering the question creates an uncomfortable silent pause.

Carro Janek, London

Above all, keep calm. Do not try to answer with your mouth full. You run the risk of spraying your neighbours with half-masticated gobbets of food, or of being unintelligible through Irish stew. The polite deipnosophist should have waited for a pause in your mastication before putting the question to you. But since he or she didn’t, finish your mouthful before replying. Signal with hand pointing to jaw that you are chewing, and intend to reply shortly. This gives you time to work out a witty, or at any rate a convincing, answer.

I was at a formal dinner where sorbet was served after the soup. A guest raised the question of smoking during the sorbet course but there were no Turkish cigarettes on the table, and the toastmaster was unaware of the practice.

Barrie Cross, by e-mail

The sorbet intercourse between the fish and the main course is a survival of the gargantuan dinners in the days of King Edward ‘Tum Tum’ VII. It was the custom to offer fat, coloured Turkish cigarettes before the diners plunged into the meat and veg. The sorbet intercourse is rarely served now and it is almost impossible to find Turkish cigarettes. To smoke before the meal is over is now reckoned bad manners and inconsiderate. Table manners do change. After all, our Tudor monarchs used to pick up the mutton bone to chew it, before chucking it over their shoulder to the hounds. To do so today would be regarded as eccentric.

When eating a fish dish, what is the good-mannered way to extract any bones that are found during the meal?

Chris Hill, Dorchester-on-Thames

If the bone is on your plate, use your fork and fingers. If the bone is stuck in your teeth, use fingers, possibly assisted by a napkin. The important thing is to make the removal of the bone as inconspicuous as possible, since its survival in the fish dish is a reflection on the cook.

At dinner with friends, there was a discussion as to how a napkin should be worn. The men believed that the best method would be to tuck it into the collar (godfatherstyle); the women preferred placing it in the lap.

Andrew Green, Epping

Men are messier eaters and less vain of their necklines than women. The lap is the polite British place for the napkin. To tuck it into one’s shirt is considered to be Frenchified and common, and to show too keen an interest in one’s grub. It also necessitates taking off one’s tie. Nevertheless, for eating bouillabaisse or chicken vindaloo, the neck may be a sensible place for the napkin. Not at posh Kensington dinner parties, though.

Is it correct to start eating as soon as you have been served or to wait until the last person at the table has been given food? I maintain that it is impolite to allow your host’s food to go cold. However, there is often uncertainty around the table.

Peter Murray, London W4

At formal dinners, wait until everyone has been served before splashing into the mock turtle. At private dinners, wait for an instruction from your host(ess). He/she often says: ‘For heaven’s sake don’t wait.’

My wife and I are going to stay at a grand house, where the hostess always gives a very grand dinner party for twenty-four people. The thought of the fish course is beginning to terrify us. Our hostess considers fish knives and forks ‘a quite distasteful affectation from the Edwardian era’, and will only countenance what she refers to as ‘the true piscatorial practice as developed in the eighteenth century’, that is to say, the use of two forks. My wife and I have been brought up to use a knife and fork. There may be a gap in our social education. How should we approach the fish? Would it be correct to ask the butler for an appropriate knife? My wife thinks that perhaps our hostess doesn’t have enough knives to go round.

H. M., Roehampton

The argument about fish knives is an old class and party political shibboleth. In the nineteenth century, pea-brained High Tories looked down their long beaks at the invention of special knives and forks for eating fish as a Whiggish innovation, made by upstarts who had to buy their cutlery rather than inherit the ancestral silver. Do not be terrified. Do not join in their snobbish games unless you want to. It is polite to use the equipment that your hostess provides, so watch how she uses her forks, and copy her. Otherwise, boldly ask the butler for a knife, and be damned to silly snobbery over fishy trifles.

I have been invited to a dinner at which beluga caviar will be on the menu. A friend told me that it is presented and consumed in a special way and, for those who imbibe, followed by a special spirit. He then pleaded ignorance. Can you please help?

Reg Pierce, Wrexham

Well, lucky you, Reg. Expect thinnest (Melba) toast and vodka. There may also be a toast with every swig. Squeezing a little lemon on is deemed OK. Nowadays chopped hard-boiled egg and chopped onion garnish is considered not echt, though I used to like it when they served it in first class on Pan Am – happy days. You should be ready with witty toasts, just in case. And eat yoghurt before you go, in case you are in for a heavy drinking session. To make Melba toast, toast a slice of bread as lightly as possible and slice in half longitudinally. Put thin halves in the oven, where they will turn brown and curl slightly up. Or roll the slice as flat as a pancake with a rolling-pin before toasting.

Which is correct – dip your chips into the sauce, or use a knife to put the sauce on the chip?

Catherine Hicks, Maidstone

Chips with everything, especially sauce, is a British peculiar. Correctitude has nothing to do with it. Food snobs consider chips, whether dipped in the sauce or smeared with sauce from the knife, as low life, what Americans would describe as trailer trashy. Let us not fall into the snobs’ sauce over this. We are eating peasant food here, like fish ’n’ chips with vinegar out of yesterday’s Times. Delicious. Personally when doing so with the small boys, I dip my chips in the sauce. To smear the sauce on with a knife is tricky and looks inappropriately genteel. Chips and sauce are perfectly delicious. But they are not correct grub. So it doesn’t matter how you anoint them. Eat to please yourself, not the snobs.

I am an Asian who has lived in this country for more than three decades. My wife is very fond of laying the table with full linen and cutlery when we entertain friends. When some of them decide instead to eat with their hands, it disturbs me and also other guests. I do not mind what rules and regulations they have in their own homes, but I expect them to show some respect and courtesy along with full table etiquette in ours. Is there any way of pointing out this problem to them, or would that be too rude?

AnonymoSingh, Anonywhere

It is good manners for guests to adopt the table customs of their host and hostess. When in Rome, eat as the Romans do. The same applies to all peoples and tribes. But I feel quite strongly that you should not point this out to your friends. None of us enjoys being corrected over our manners. Your friends obviously feel at home with you, so that they can let their hair down and eat with their fingers. This is a great compliment to your generous hospitality and heart. (The best curry that I ever ate, by korma, was with my fingers, off a banana leaf, in a garden in Delhi, with fireworks exploding in the background.)

Table manners vary widely. The only etiquette that matters is to eat your food in a tidy way that does not offend your fellow-diners. Even then, friendship matters a great deal more than forks, and spontaneity more than spoons. It would be unkind to raise the matter of their eating habits with your friends. Be a generous and humorous host.

My wife (seventy-eight), with a good set of her own teeth, cannot abide the sight of my upper plate when out of my mouth. I am eighty-two. We need to know the correct etiquette for removing it in company, say, when a sharp raspberry seed gets stuck. Also guidance about the modern custom of using a toothpick when out for a meal with friends.

Incognito, Lincolnshire

Such dental operations are most politely performed in private, i.e., in a cloakroom. But if you cannot find privacy, I should at any rate hoist up a screen of napkin while you fiddle with your denture. Toothpicks are widely deployed at tables on the Continent, without causing surprise or offence. In the United Kingdom, the toothpick is viewed with xeno-suspicion. The polite Englishman picks his teeth discreetly. Good manners consist of not upsetting the prejudices and peculiarities of one’s companions.

Is it correct to pick a bone up from the plate to nibble the parts too difficult to tackle with a knife and fork?

Frederick Brookes, Bolnore

Depends on the place, company and bone under consideration. Like all table manners, etiquette varies chronologically, geographically and tribally. Picking up a bone to chaw was perfectly good manners at the robust board of King Henry VIII, after which you chucked the remains over your shoulder for the greyhounds.