It is strange how even the most prosaic of statements can take on a new meaning when one has some personal knowledge of the subject not available to other readers.
Thus it was that, for me, the following item tucked away on an inside page of the Oxford Herald had special significance:
"The death of Archibald, 3rd Duke of Massingham, was announced this week. It is understood that the Duke and Lady Massingham were busy in one of the upstairs rooms of their home, Darnell Hall, when Sir Archibald suffered a severe stroke which sadly proved fatal.
He is succeeded by his elder son Robin."
Now it happens that I was until quite recently an adviser to Lord and Lady Massingham. I am a chartered accountant specializing in taxation and as such I was called in to advise the Massinghams on matters concerning Inheritance Tax. However, it is not for the intricacy of their family trusts that I remember Sir Archie and Lady Audrey but for a sensational glimpse into their more intimate affairs that was occasioned by a visit I paid to Darnell Hall in the autumn of 2009.
When I knew her Audrey Massingham was a gracious lady of late middle age. On the occasion of my visit she looked slim, elegant and beautifully groomed. Her once-blonde hair had turned an elegant shade of grey, a fact that she did not attempt to disguise by artificial means. She wore a crisp silk blouse, brown tweed skirt, tan-coloured stockings and soft brown leather shoes with low heels. The very archetype of county aristocracy in fact.
When I arrived she greeted me in the massive front portico and explained that her husband, Sir Archie, was away shooting in Scotland but that this should not prevent us from discussing the preliminaries and getting some details down on paper. I was quite surprised to find that she was alone in the house. Apparently it was the staff's day off.
We worked in her husband's study, Lady Audrey sitting in a straight-backed chair to one side, so that I could use my laptop on the desk. The formalities took no more than half an hour but Lady Audrey seemed in no hurry to let me go. She showed an interest in my laptop. Her husband, she said, knew about computers (she indicated a monitor on a pull-out shelf) but they were a mystery to her. It was obvious that she wanted some information but was skirting around the subject. Eventually she seemed to summon up the courage to look me straight in the eye and say, "I can do email and all that sort of thing of course but what I really want to do is get hold of some pornography. Do you know how to do that? "
I was so flabbergasted to be asked this question by a titled lady - and one who had just allowed me to enter on a tax form that she was sixty three years of age - that for a moment I did not answer. Sensing my confusion she added, "I don't really get the chance to ask anyone - I couldn't ask Archie. But I know we have broadband and I would like it if you could show me what to do." When I still hesitated, she added, "I'm no prude, you know."
I was somewhat hesitant about admitting that I most certainly did know how to access pornography and was, indeed, somewhat addicted to it. Eventually I took the plunge.
"What sort of thing would you like to see?"
She coloured a little but then murmured quietly, "Oh, naked men with big cocks I suppose."
"Okay". I turned to my laptop and navigated to a page which showed pictures of men and women, mainly naked, indulging in a variety of sexual activities.
"Oh, my goodness!" she exclaimed, "they are all, what should I say, very well endowed aren't they?" She was sitting close to me now and I could sense her rising excitement. I was also very aware that her skirt had ridden up and she was revealing her knees and several inches of smooth, stockinged thigh.
