I’ve been told to banish these guests from the main table Today Us News

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I am a single man who inherited, from my parents and grandparents, both a love of entertaining and also a great deal of the trappings needed — china, crystal, linen, silver — that other relatives didn’t want.

I have everything from fish knives and bouillon cups to strawberry forks and salt spoons. I don’t use them all often, but I enjoy it when I do, and my friends seem to, as well.

Much of my entertaining is less formal: backyard cookouts and such, with all comers welcome. But two or three times a year, I break out the table finery and have a more formal dinner with several courses and a carefully set table.

My dining room limits the number invited to eight or, though a bit tight, 10. So I choose guests who I think will enjoy the nostalgia, and most do.

My question is how to react when people do not respond to an invitation, nor to a gentle nudge (such as an emailed “I wondered if you had received this,” with a second copy of the invitation) — and arrive anyway. With no response at all, I assume they are not coming, but occasionally they do.

I usually say simply, “What a nice surprise,” but I am then left to shuffle place cards, add settings (often unmatched) and squeeze them in. If the menu includes individually portioned dishes, some may need to do without dessert or whatever.

These are friends of mine, and I do want to entertain them, but I’m afraid I’ll be limiting them to barbecues in the future.

My sister-in-law thinks I should openly set up a card table in the kitchen when this happens, and set it with everyday dishes. Tempting as that is, I’m hoping there’s a better way to react. Do you have any suggestions for invited, but unexpected, guests?

GENTLE READER: Expressing surprise and making reasonable, if obvious, attempts at accommodation are the correct responses. As is taking away china privileges from even one-time offenders.

Miss Manners hopes, however, that you will not otherwise dumb down your charming, seated dinner parties because of a few outlaws. We, the purveyors of fish knives and strawberry forks, are a dying breed. Your ancestry would be proud.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Our friends graciously offered us use of their rustic lakeside cabin, as they no longer can travel there themselves.

We had a disappointing time and cut our stay short due to the terrible odor, primitive accommodations and insufficient space. Upon returning home, we sent our friends a thank-you letter and privately vowed to never return.