My last Lowe Down (available here if you missed it!) detailed my slightly mortifying history of social faux pas. That article prompted a delightfully larger-than-usual volume of responses and reactions from readers. I was humbled. It is reassuring to know that making embarrassing public statements is a universal experience. To all Wymondham readers who reacted online or told me through mutual friends how much you had enjoyed it – thank you very much.

What was especially delightful was people getting in touch with their own stories. A regular Wymondham Magazine reader met up with me and instantly told me a mortifying anecdote of his own. He had recently been in a restaurant with a family member, and when the waitress customarily asked, “any allergies or intolerances?”, he had responded, “only to bigotry.” As a joke. One that didn’t land very well.

Why did he say that? We don’t know. But it gave us both a good laugh.

I must have cursed myself as well, because after that article came out, another one happened to me. I promise that confessing to social gaffes will not become a regular Lowe Down feature – but this one was a doozy, so it has to be mentioned.

At the time of writing, I have spent the last week performing in a university production of Massenet’s ‘Cendrillon’. I was in the pit orchestra as the lead cellist. Our version of the opera ended with Cendrillon and Prince Charmant – played by two students – kissing onstage.

After opening night, one of the leads told me that her grandparents, who I had briefly met, had complimented her on her kissing skills. This amused us both, largely due to the charming oddity of receiving that compliment from grandparents, of all people.

The acceptable thing in that situation would have been to laugh along with the amusing anecdote – and then move on.

Not approach her after the next performance, two nights later, and jokingly say, “your grandparents weren’t wrong!”

(Internal facepalm.)

This was not an attempt at coquetry, although I’m aware it doesn’t speak much for those skills either. Tragically, it was an attempt at lighthearted humour. She was kind enough to pretend to be flattered, half-swatting my arm and saying, “don’t worry – you’re allowed to say I’m a good kisser!” She was clearly a great actress both on and offstage because she must really have been thinking, “I’m never letting this weirdo meet my grandparents again.”

Performing in the theatre hugely plays on the endorphins. Maybe I was drunk on dopamine (and post-performance fatigue). I also come from a family that revels in making risky jokes and saying cheeky but charming things to flatter people, especially on my mother’s side. It is a difficult hereditary trait to balance alongside my equally strong pathological fear of offending!

As I have said, the Lowe Down will not become a regular ‘faux pas’ confession column, but if you would like this tradition to continue – the person who would love to hear your stories is the magazine’s very own Wymondham Whistledown! Indeed - we have an agony aunt now. She is a secret and anonymous Wymondhammer, so send in your stories without embarrassment if the laying-bare of my own social disasters has inspired you.

I initially planned to end this Lowe Down ‘faux pas’ duology with a disclaimer that I am not like this all the time. I can be a very together, composed person (usually), not that these columns would give that impression. I thought of ending with an opposite kind of anecdote in which I was devilishly clever, where my verbal response to an awkward situation was cuttingly James-Bond-like. An anecdote of effortless rhetorical smoothness to counterbalance the rather numpty-like impression I have given in the last two Lowe Downs.

I gave up. It is not that those stories don’t exist (although ‘James-Bond-like’ is a bit far). It’s because they were boring. Bridget Jones’s Diary would have been stunningly dull if Bridget showed up to the party having changed her outfit accordingly because she responsibly knew it was no longer fancy dress.

So, this month’s main Lowe Down anecdote remains the good-kisser one. For better or for worse. Why do social gaffes make far more engaging writing than social smoothness? That is a topic for another day.