The Turf | 26 July 2008

I once bought a house from a chap who insisted that Shakepeare’s entire output had in fact been penned by Francis Bacon. Be that as it may, Bacon did come up with the odd pithy insight, as when he argued, ‘Wives are young men’s mistresses, companions for middle age and old men’s nurses.’ Lately, I have been putting Mrs Oakley’s companionship qualities to the test with a trapped sciatic nerve, which has made me about as much fun to live with as John McEnroe at two sets down and serving to save the match.

Fortunately, the saintly Mrs O is blessed with a realism that deserts her only when faced with a decision on which dress or shoes to wear for major social occasions, a decision which is rarely completed until the hour most others are actually arriving at the event. When I am seized by the urge, for example, to attempt home repairs she insists, ‘For God’s sake, go away and write another article while I employ a professional.’