Ding Dong...I'm getting married in the morning

Sorry Grandma in Cyprus if that comes as a shock (again) - I know you met my first (and only, so far) wife only after we'd tied the knot. But I like to keep you on your toes.

I was much pleased when a rather attractive young woman asked me to marry her yesterday. She is, as I say, young and attractive. More than that she knows what I like, and feeds me fine food. So I feel it is the right thing to do. Her head has no doubt been turned by my charm, my good looks, my simple being. And tush to any of you who suggest for one moment it's because she works in the local sandwich bar and is struggling to get a visa. I'm sure we will live happily ever after. And I'm sure the boy will like his new step-mum, who is at least five years older than him.

This is the first time someone has asked me to marry them, but I have been asked out on several occasions. It's always good for me. I'm not sure it's good for them.

I was once the lucky owner of a rather gorgeous soft-top sports car (one of the first Audi TTs in Britain - it always turned heads) and once when driving back to town from a weekend at the beach, a car with two women pulled alongside. Remarkably as we cruised along the motorway at speeds likely to incur the wrath of the local constabulary, one of them reached out of her window and passed me a note with her phone number on. We did indeed meet up, and that's when I discovered that you can't tell how tall someone is when they're sitting in a car. I looked up to her six foot from my five foot eight and admired her blond locks.

On our recent trip to the Fatherland, the boy and I chatted to a couple of women as we climbed one of the mountains. When we came down to breakfast the next day, there was a note for me that had been left at reception. The waiter said he had no idea what it said, which I took as meaning he had devoured every bit of it. And so he should. It was a name, a number and the suggestion of some nocturnal activity. I've kept the note for posterity.

And earlier this year as I dropped the boy off for a school friend's party, the mum came across and suggested it would be fun to go out for a drink. I ran away giggling.

It's nice to feel wanted.