DEAR MISS MANNERS: I have a dear friend who just turned 80. I really do not believe he suffers from memory problems, as he has very good recall of both recent events and names, as well as those from the past.

Yet my friend has, for many years, brought up in our conversations the same facts or details of cases he has handled as a lawyer, or a lengthy retelling of one of his distant vacations or some event that occurred in his life.

He never prefaces these with "Have I told you this before?" or "Did I ever tell you about the case I handled?" Instead, he proceeds to describe in detail the facts as if he were telling them to me for the very first time.

I have, on occasion, told him as he begins one of these oft-told tales that he had already told me about it. But I was hoping there is a polite, non-condescending way of saying to him, before he begins to repeat one of these stories, that he should first ask me whether he has already told me about it. He is a good friend and I don't wish to hurt his feelings, but I have grown weary of having to listen to the same thing over and over again.

GENTLE READER: Retelling one's stories is human nature at any age, as is boredom and impatience among unwilling audience members.

While it might be helpful if your friend vetted his stories before telling them, getting him to do so should not be your goal. Your goal is to stop him once he has begun and you recognize the story.

As Miss Manners deals in etiquette, which often contradicts inclination, you have come to the right place. Use your knowledge of your friend's punch lines: "I remember that, that's a great story. I can't believe you spent five days in Guam while they tried to find a replacement engine." Then change the subject.

Miss Manners does not recommend changing it to one of your own well-worn stories, although she understands the temptation.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: One couple asked to bring their three young children to our adult dinner party. How to respectfully decline?

GENTLE READER: Your response must be both concrete and vague. "I'm so sorry, but this is (unambiguously) not an event for children (for no stated reason)" is both proper (assuming you do not say the clarifying notes out loud) and, usually, effective.

The guest who insists that "We can't get a baby sitter that night, so we would have to bring them," can be answered politely without changing your position: "I completely understand. Then another time."

Miss Manners assures you that as uncomfortable as you may find this conversation, it is preferable to the results of being too vague or too concrete. "I'm not sure if they would enjoy it (and you're not sure what I'm saying)," or "I just got new rugs and am trying to keep things clean," will please neither side.

(Please send your questions to Miss Manners at her website, www.missmanners.com; to her email, dearmissmanners@gmail.com; or through postal mail to Miss Manners, Andrews McMeel Syndication, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, MO 64106.)

DEAR MISS MANNERS: What would perfect manners do for the world?

GENTLE READER: Besides put Miss Manners out of business? The very idea sets her dreaming of happy times, rocking on the porch as she contemplates a peaceful world.

However, this might also create problems for other trades, notably the munitions and entertainment industries.

Still, wouldn't it be worth it? No shoving or shouting in lines, on subways or in the streets. No demands to contribute to other people's honeymoon or children's college funds, but prompt thanks for kindness and generosity. People would look one another in the eye instead of bending over their telephones. There would be substantive conversation because differences would be debated respectfully.

Perfect harmony would reign -- no wars, no murders, no divorces.

Oops, wait. Miss Manners was carried away. Human beings would still be human. Manners restrain impulses that annoy others; they seldom govern the great passions. It would take perfect morals, not just manners, to nullify the greater ills of the world. Over to you, Miss Morals.

Still, wouldn't it be pleasant to get through the day without fear of anyone's offering to tell you what's wrong with you for your own good?

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Is my dress, as mother of the bride, to be a similar style to the bride's?

GENTLE READER: Have you discussed this with your daughter?

Miss Manners has heard that gentlemen contemplating marriage should check out a prospect's mother, on the idea that she is what a young lady will grow into resembling.

Maybe yes, maybe no, but is the wedding the occasion to test this?

If only people would stop thinking of weddings as costume dramas. The mother of the bride should dress in a becoming, dignified way, according to the degree of formality of the wedding. But she does not have to match the bridegroom's mother, much less the bride.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: There are four of us ladies who have decided to play bridge together. We are meeting tomorrow at one of the ladies' home for our first get-together. She will provide refreshments and would like to rotate homes/refreshments. We agree on this.

Two of us really don't know how to play, but the others are willing to teach us. Since they are being so kind, should I bring something over as a thank-you for doing this? If so, suggestions would be appreciated.

GENTLE READER: Fresh cards, when the ones being played begin to get sticky. Score pads when they run out. Trump markers. Apologies when you trump your partner's ace.

Actually, Miss Manners is not requiring you to stick to the bridge necessities. It may well be that the veteran players are well supplied, and you are in a position, as she is not, to notice this, and to guess at alternatives.

She is only trying to steer you away from bringing refreshments, which will make the others feel that they have to do so as well, and thus ruin the workable system of rotation that has been planned.

(Please send your questions to Miss Manners at her website, www.missmanners.com; to her email, dearmissmanners@gmail.com; or through postal mail to Miss Manners, Andrews McMeel Syndication, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, MO 64106.)

DEAR MISS MANNERS: For many years now, my spouse has "played around." I do not believe he has had any feelings toward the objects of his lust; it is more the thrill of the hunt. I have kept quiet for the duration of his disrespect of our relationship, but now my anger is at the boiling point.

Disregarding my obvious emotional handicaps in having not addressed this earlier, do I just look at him over the dinner table and unleash my rage? Or has the statute of limitations expired on that?

GENTLE READER: Has it expired on your rage? While tirelessly polite even in the most trying of circumstances, Miss Manners would not presume to deprive you of expressing your understandable and generously built-up anger.

The more important question here is what you plan to do after the explosion. If you intend to stay with your husband and think that things may change by this outburst -- or at least make you feel better about the situation -- then let loose.

However, if you are planning on leaving him, it might be more effective to write a well-worded note -- preferably from your lawyer -- and save your passion for a worthier gentleman.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I don't know how to ask guests politely not to clink glasses during a toast, when I've set good crystal (really, really good crystal).

My husband gets embarrassed if I tell anyone how to do anything; he says it can sound like I'm chastising him or others, and I don't want to sound that way. However, we are not in any financial position to prioritize replacing broken crystal over, say, impending retirement savings, and these are my family glasses that I'd love my grown son to have one day.

What do I say, short of embroidering a sign or having tacky coasters made that say:

"Raise a glass but please don't clink

"The crystal is old, might develop a chink."

GENTLE READER: Congratulations to your crystal for making it this far. Reasonable breakage is a natural consequence of hospitality.

But while Miss Manners loves an antiquated custom, clinking glasses is a particularly barbaric one. It is rooted in the idea that one should beware a host's inclination to administer poison. If they are willing to exchange the contents of their glasses, then they must be trustworthy.

Which raises the question: Why are you drinking with someone who is trying to poison you? But far be it for Miss Manners to admonish a show of good behavior over true intent. However, she digresses.

She sees your only polite option, other than avoiding celebrations and toasting all together, is saying, when initiating a toast, "Let's raise a glass," indicating strongly that they should not be clinked. And if you are not the initiator, a hearty "Hear! Hear!" with your glass raised high, rather than clinked -- and deliberately bad aim toward anyone else who tries -- should set an example.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: When is it appropriate to wear yoga pants?

GENTLE READER: Well, not at Pilates. Unless you are looking to start a (very calm and core-centered) war.

(Please send your questions to Miss Manners at her website, www.missmanners.com; to her email, dearmissmanners@gmail.com; or through postal mail to Miss Manners, Andrews McMeel Syndication, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, MO 64106.)