He was tall, dark, handsome – and impeccably dressed in a starched white shirt adorned with gold cufflinks that peeped out of the sleeves of his sharp dark grey suit. When JM introduced him to me, I believed that I was in the company of an African prince.

I was soon besotted – so much so that on the day that I lost TPR trudging around the museum in his shabby old Barbour coat, it seemed perfectly natural for me to fall into the arms of this glamorous semi-stranger. Within minutes I was ready to give up a relationship of over four decades for an exciting new life with a handsome young man.

But then it suddenly struck me that I knew very little about this charmer who was stroking my hand. How old was he? Was he financially secure?

When he admitted that he was 32 and had ‘a few money problems’, I came to my senses.