I was watching daytime television, as a way of decompressing, when a charming old boy in a three-piece tweed suit appeared on the screen.
He was sitting by a crackling log fire in a book-filled room with a dog at his feet as he answered, in alert and genial manner, the questions of his interviewer.
I was just thinking to myself, ‘I wonder if he's a widower?’ as I called to mind an elderly spinster friend who might be just
