When I woke up in the morning she'd be lying there beside me, golden hair cascading on the pillow, white founts falling in the courts of the sun, eyes as blue as cornflowers, her pearl-pale hand in mine. We were children of the 1960s, Woodstock, Janis Joplin, Country Joe and the Fish, the summer of peace, love, and rock'n'roll.

We had to be discreet, of course, but, in those days we were a united profession and we had plenty of …