Reading the Arts blog debate makes me realise how lucky we London-based classical critics are on this paper, in that we work as a team. If any potentially uncomfortable situation rears its head on the reviews schedule, we all have three Get Out Of Jail Free cards: mine are called Andrew, Tim and George. Not that I have to play those very often; though not infallible, the Guardian does keep an eye out for potential conflicts of interest. If you interview someone for a preview feature, then you won't be the one who is sent to review his or her next gig; moreover, if you show too many rose-tinted symptoms of becoming anyone's biggest fan, then when next month's concerts are divvied up your pet artist will be taken away from you and (probably) given to whichever reviewer has been the grumpiest.

Judith's situation sounds like a minefield, but I find that, in a crowded foyer in a concert interval, it's quite easy to stay incognito, especially if you don't have a photo byline. And yet, as everyone has already said, as a critic you can't - shouldn't - avoid social contact with artists completely. We're all on the same side, after all: nobody becomes a reviewer because they hate music, and we want to see the art form flourish as much as performers do. So of course there is a balance to be struck. I do rather envy Adrian's evenings in the bar, as his work sounds a lot more fun than mine. But while I trust his ability to keep a clear head, in every sense, I'd tend to go with what Lyn says - keep friendship and the job separate.

Of course, I do know some of the people I review. I studied at a university where everybody in the music scene knew everybody else. But the close friends who have gone on to be performers, the ones I still see regularly more than a decade later, I've ring-fenced. There are three people who I just don't write about. Never have done. That's something I decided soon after I started reviewing, when I was asked to cover a student opera one of them was singing in. Not only because it might have been difficult for me to write what I really thought about him had it been negative - equally, it was because any glowing words from me would have looked suspiciously sycophantic to anyone who knew us.

As for the performers one meets through work, let's be clear about what we actually mean by "friends". Often when you meet someone it's in the context of an interview. You've read up on them, Googled them, listened to them on your CD player before you've even met, then persuaded them to talk and talk and talk about themselves while you record every word they say, and nod and smile while scrutinising their delivery for any sign that they might actually mean something else. Doesn't anyone else think that's a creepy way to start a friendship?

When all else fails, there is always the Private Eye test - is there anything in your interaction with this performer that Ian Hislop might think worthy of his attention? If so, it's time to make your excuses and leave. If you want musicians to respect you as a critic, the sad fact is that you need to come to their performances - lots of them - then go home and get writing. If you want them to like you, that's something different. And you're in the wrong job.