Taxi at 10:30pm, and forget the coffee: the new dinner party rules

The dos and don'ts of hosting...
The dos and don'ts of hosting...

It was once a cheerful indication of intimacy. But now a simple “you must come to dinner,” has become fraught with social dangers. How straightforward it was when all you needed to do was put on your best suit or frock, spend the first half of the evening speaking to the person on your right, the second half to the person on your left, jump in a cab by midnight, scribble a thank you note - and we all got out of there alive. 

Now, our casual way of living means we hardly know when we’ve strayed over some mysterious line in the sisal matting. Indeed, in the latest edition of The Lady magazine, etiquette expert, Thomas Blaikie, describes the new dinner party rules, which include leaving by 10.30pm on a weeknight and 11.15pm at weekends, not bringing wine that costs less than a tenner, and, if you’re the host, never making plated starters.

I’ve thrown so many dinner parties, my dishwasher should be receiving a lifetime achievement award. So here are my tips from the frontline, to ensure both happy hosts and guests...

Don’t be on time 

This is the act of a monster. The only people worse than those who arrive bang on time are those who arrive early, when you’re still in your pinny and haven’t had time to soften your frazzled edges with a cocktail. For the very best in civilised behaviour, arrive 10 to 15 minutes late.

'Surely that wasn't the ruddy doorbell?'
'Surely that wasn't the ruddy doorbell?' Credit: ClassicStock / Alamy 

Bring wine if you must 

But it’s now acceptable to bring craft beer or cider instead. And there’s no shortage of varieties - the number of breweries has reached its highest level for more than 80 years, according to new figures. You will look terribly cutting edge and no one actually has to drink it.  

Don’t take flowers 

Because rattling out dinner for eight is stressful enough, without the addition of having to find a vase. Send flowers afterwards, or take a potted plant – no cacti though, far too prickly.

No one cares what you like 

If you are vegan, vegetarian or have a deadly food allergy, let your host know beforehand. But if you’re just not eating dairy this month, or drearily carb-phobic, do keep it to yourself, there’s a love. There’s nothing more boring than the pick-and-mix culinary peccadillos of others.

Do talk politics and religion

It’s prissy to skirt around the really interesting stuff, and in favour of what? House prices and minor ailments? Also pay close attention when speaking about your children to anyone who is not a blood relative - you don’t want to be responsible for a case of terminal eye-glaze-over-itis. 

Accept that last drink 

If I’m pouring the hard stuff, or that weird digestif I brought back from holiday and can’t pronounce, it’s because I want you to stay awhile. If I suggest tea or coffee, I am mentally calling you a taxi and have no intention of actually putting the kettle on.

The witching hour 

Mr Blaikie speaks sense when he decrees weeknight dinners should be over by 10.30pm. We aren’t 20 anymore and being in (your own) bed by midnight is one of the cornerstones of civilised life. That said, if any guest left my table as early as 11.15pm on a Saturday, I would hang up my hostess apron forever. 

Do say thank you 

A letter is delicious and people will remember your impeccable guestitude; a postcard is good and an email is fine. The most dreadful thing you can do is to resist messaging or calling as you absolutely, definitely are going to write that note. Just as soon as you track down the perfect stationery and find a stamp.

Suddenly you’re bumping into your hosts 10 months later and they’re wondering why they never heard from you - was it because you hated their cousin? Send the email.

If you’re the host... 

Don’t show off. You need to make it look - or at least feel - effortless if you want your guests to relax. No one cares that you spent the whole weekend watching YouTube videos of how to make choux pastry swans. Bowls of bought ice cream taste sweeter than any amount of culinary braggadocio. 

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