I went to Whitby on my honeymoon thirty five years ago tomorrow. It was freezing bitter cold. The sea mist was so low, you couldn't actually see the sea. It was like that for two days - more like January than August.

As I remember we watched the pictures a lot. There was Paint Your wagon with Clint Eastwood, and an Alistair Maclean thing - when Eight Bells Toll.

The sex......well you take that for granted at that age. But you're a fool if you forget that your parner's love is her greatest gift, something she has a choice about conferring. And you're sleepwalking through life if you think there's no element of competition - even after 35 very happy years.

By the way - if anybody feels the urge, I won't be annoyed or offended if you want to regard me as a sex object.

Go ahead, talk to me dirty like the cheap slut I really am.