Which famous person would you like to have dinner with?
Michelle Obama: the food would be home-grown and fresh, the conversation would be wide-ranging and fun, the hostess would be kind and caring, and she might bring her husband with her.
Avril Taylor, Dundas, Ontario, Canada
• I think I’ll give it a miss. I don’t have an appetite for fame.
Lawrie Bradly, Surrey Hills, Victoria, Australia
• Anyone without an iPhone.
Richard Orlando, Westmount, Quebec, Canada
• One of the Lascaux painters; in addition to the a fascinating artistic discussion, the meal would be an authentic caveman diet.
Anthony Walter, Surrey, British Columbia, Canada
• Any who choose not to speak about themselves.
Charlie Bamforth, Davis, California, US
• François-Marie Arouet = Voltaire!
Edward Black, Sydney, Australia
• Samuel Johnson, more to discover what he really thought of James Boswell than to discuss how he might update his dictionary.
Philip Stigger, Burnaby, British Columbia, Canada
• I would love to have had the opportunity to sit down to dinner with the Chilean poet Pablo Neruda to discuss his amazing life and multi-faceted career.
Terence Rowell, Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, Canada
• David Attenborough. You could never be bored in his company, because he is such an eloquent enthusiast.
David Isaacs, Sydney, NSW, Australia
Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin
What was the first writing on the wall and what will be the last?
The first writing on the wall was that at the feast of Belshazzar recorded in the Book of Daniel. According to Daniel it foretold the fall of Babylon which indeed occurred in 539BC. The phrase now usually refers to some anticipated disaster. These days the writing all around us, even in the Guardian, is about little else but disaster, so we may well be witnesses to the last writing on the wall, and on everything else as well.
Greg McCarry, Sydney, NSW, Australia
• Bathroom graffiti at both ends, but only the last will be preserved since there will be nobody to clean it off.
Margaret Wyeth, Victoria, British Columbia, Canada
• We will never know – as the walls came tumbling down. And now the writing’s on your tablet.
Jennifer Rathbone, Toronto, Canada
• Cave painting – and cave painting.
Peter Ansley, New Plymouth, New Zealand
• That’s all, folks!
John Ralston, Mountain View, California, US
• The first was “Kilroy was here”; the last could be “Man was here”.
Jim Dewar, Gosford, NSW, Australia
When I knew I was immortal
Were your good old days really good?
Ah, they were really good for me, but too often at the expense of family and friends!
Eugene Novogrodsky, Brownsville, Texas, US
• Mine were: living and working in different cultures, fresh food grown locally, sailing a small dinghy, being able to visit sights and sites without a horde of tourists and generally leading a hassle-free existence where technology was minimal.
Ursula Nixon, Bodalla, NSW, Australia
• The good old days were wonderful. I knew I was immortal.
Lizzie Wagner, Masterton, New Zealand
• If these are now my old days then, yes, they’re pretty good.
John Londesborough, Helsinki, Finland
• Yes, because they were young new days.
Jenefer Warwick James, Sydney, NSW, Australia
• They will be.
John Reynolds, Auckland, New Zealand
Happily ever afters
Why are there so few books with really bad endings?
There are many, but they are all about the economy!
Gai Wright, Darwin, Northern Territory, Australia
• There are many and they are generally about the environment.
Graham Kirby, Nightcliff, Northern Territory, Australia
• Behind every bad author is almost always a good editor.
David Tucker, Halle, Germany
Any answers?
Is it possible to have meaningful conversations without asking questions?
John Benseman, Auckland, New Zealand
Do we ever learn?
E Slack, L’Isle Jourdain, France
• Send answers and more questions to weekly.nandq@theguardian.com
