I just hope my latest post over at the Weblog doesn’t get me into trouble with the missus…

(True story: I came home last night with the very faintest whiff of the aftershave I’d splashed on in the morning still lingering about my person. Sarah leans in, sniffs, demands to know what that smell is and how I came to be associated with it. Clearly I had better steer well clear of perfumed ladies - so much for my projected second career as a dashing, twinkle-eyed lothario - the flashing blade of destiny, the scourge of a thousand boudoirs…)