At the age of 22 I was in my second teaching post at an Infants' School. The headmistress was the wife of the head of English at my previous (secondary modern) school, with whom I'd had a 'dalliance' - but that's another story.

The other young teachers on the staff were engaged or married and I felt I was being left on the shelf. There were no male teachers of infants in those days so I joined 'Dateline'.

The first boy I went out with was an American - a chemist at the (fairly) nearby base - and all seemed to be going well until he crashed his car coming to see me one evening and then expected me to ferry him around while it was being repaired. I didn't mind that  - until the day he got me to take him to see another girl!

Then the phone rang one evening and this chap with a deep, sexy voice introduced himself and asked me out. We went to a dinner dance and found we had things in common. He was an excellent dancer with a strong lead so he made me feel like a good dancer too. We were both teachers and lived at home, he with his gran and me with my parents, so we were desperate to spread our wings.

However, he was 13 years older than I was and his looks didn't match up to his voice. I can't say I was head over heels in love but we started seeing alot of each other. Eventually we went on holiday together with me wearing an old wedding ring that used to belong to his mother. Now this was more to save money by not having two single rooms than with any expectations on his part but I did suggest that he might like to buy some condoms - just in case. 

He tried several chemists before he dared to ask and then that evening we  discovered that neither of us actually knew how to put them on properly. We ended up laughing so much that it completely dampened his ardour - so to speak, and he was reluctant to try again.

Perhaps that should have been a warning but I hung in there, telling myself he was really nice and his lack of sexual adventure may be due to respect. I don't think I was ever in love but I told myself his family were fond of him so he must be a good person.

Then came  the day when my parents - who had never approved of anyone I went out with - issued an ultimatum. I was not to go out with him any more.

So, pigheaded, stubborn little madam that I was, I left home and went to stay with his brother and sister-in-law. We saw the vicar, posted the banns and set the date for three weeks hence - 2nd November 1968.

That meant a hasty sewing session to produce a simple wedding dress and two bridesmaids dresses for his niece and cousin. We hired the village hall but the reception consisted of sandwiches and finger foods provided by friends and family (I was actually up at six on my wedding day making sandwiches). My parents did not come and my sister was deprived of the chance to be a bridesmaid. They said I had been disinherited and contact was broken.

We didn't have a honeymoon but one of the teachers at my school rented us her rather primitive cottage so it took all our time and money to get a home organised. We invited his brother and family that first Christmas but it was still a bit chaotic.

I had been to the Family Planning clinic to be fitted with a diaphragm - horrible rubber thing that you had to smother with spermicide gel before putting it in place. However, my new husband proved most reluctant in bed and weeks passed without the marriage being consumated. Weeks turned into months and I gave up using my family planning device altogether.

Eventually I got the message across that if he wanted a family - and he definitely did - he would have to do something about it. I couldn't produce a baby on my own. With some difficulty and absolutely no pleasure I eventually conceived about a year later.

News of my pregnancy broke the ice with my mum and she invited us to spend Christmas with them. Unfortuately I had a miscarriage at ten weeks.

I changed schools again and spent a year teaching 8 year olds during which time we saved up enough for a deposit on a bungalow and, despite a rather sparse sex life, I had a second miscarriage.

The doctor suggested that if I wanted a family I'd have to give up full time teaching so I found a part time job at my old Alma Mater. (In my first five years teaching I had covered infants, primary, secondary modern and grammar schools, plus some adult evening classes.)

It was on our first holiday since our marriage that I discovered I was pregnant for the third time. I knew it as soon as I nearly threw up at the smell of coffee. Just my luck, a couple of weeks in Greece - in August - suffering from morning sickness. I couldn't bear to leave the air-conditioned hotel so it wasn't much fun for Whale either.

Of course, we were both over the moon when CC was born but it brought home the fact that Whale was not at all practical. When I brought the new baby home he didn't dare touch her, and as for feeding or changing a nappy . . . . .

It wasn't any better when Jay came along either. He was all fingers and thumbs. However, he did manage to put together a playpen.

While the children were small I was too exhausted to miss a sex-life so it was some time before I realised that now that our family was complete, Whale figured that he had done his duty in the bedroom once and for all.

When I suggested a bit of slap and tickle he accused me of being a sex maniac and went so far as to say that if I wanted 'it' he wouldn't mind if I went elsewhere.

So I did.

But once I discovered what sex was really like it spelled the end of our marriage.

Whale moved into a flat at the University where he worked and the children and I moved back home with my parents.

The first question the head asked was "What can you teach beside music?"

"I'm only trained to teach music" was my naive reply.

"That doesn't mean a thing. I could employ you as head of science if I wanted" she retorted.

So, (in the days of a severe shortage of teachers) I left music college to teach English, Italian, games - oh and a bit of music - at a secondary modern for girls in the fens.

As a complete newcomer I was grateful when the head of English took me under his wing and showed me the ropes. He was a gentle, kindly father figure well liked and respected by staff and girls.

I was invited to the local pub with him and other colleagues and, eventually, he took me home and introduced me to his wife.

We got on well and it was suggested that I move into their spare room the following year.

Then it happened.

His wife was at a meeting. I was making a curry and he suddenly came into the kitchen and kissed me in a far from fatherly fashion.

It came as a shock. I'd always thought of him as the dad I'd never known (my parents separated when I was still a baby and divorce took seven years in those days) and he was more than twenty years my senior.

But I didn't want to hurt his feelings. At the same time, I was still, strictly speaking, a virgin, and curious to find out what sex was really like.

To cut a long story short, we did go to bed eventually, but it was a complete disaster. He was not a good lover and my heart wasn't in it.

I can't remember how it all came out into the open but the last term was a surreal mess. His wife had offered me a job at her school in Norfolk and I had accepted. But once the 'affair' came to light I felt I couldn't work for her. They both insisted that I should and he refused to discuss my anxieties. In fact, he avoided me like the plague.

With my notice already handed in, no job and no-one to turn to I applied for posts at schools nearby but I was in such a state that I broke down at the interview and confessed all.

The official from County Hall summoned my 'lover' immediately and he arrived half an hour later with his wife and a letter of resignation.

I don't know what went on behind closed doors but he didn't have to give up his job. He drove my car and his wife took me home in her's. She was extremely sympathetic and assured me that everything would be fine if I took up the post at her school.

Of course, I hardly saw him, even at school, for the last few weeks of term and I did go and teach infants at his wife's school the following September. Needless to say we never referred to the affair again.

Looking back, the whole incident seems completely incomprehensible, even allowing for the fact that I must have been pretty stupid at that time.

And I'm not sure that I've improved with age.

It was Nimrod that did it.

There was I enjoying the Concert for Morse when I found myself thinking about my First Love. Maybe the LSO was giving a more moving interpretation than I had heard before: or was it memories of all the live concerts we had attended together (we always spent a large part of our grants on tickets for the RFH and Covent Garden and lived on beans on toast): whatever, it brought tears to my eyes and a reminder of the strong emotions of those college days.

He was on the 'rebound' from a love affair that never started. Unrequited love for the Irish girl who lived in the same house. So I was there to pick up the pieces, listen to his outpourings of adoration for this unobtainable creature, and eventually to fall in love with him myself.

Within a few months we were a 'couple' (heavy petting but no sex: the pill was only just becoming available but it wasn't easy to get hold of and I would have been too embarassed to ask).

The only problem was that I was so naively besotted that I wanted to spend every waking (and sleeping) minute in his company. Eventually this was the main cause of him dumping me.

He needed space. He wanted to do some things without a faithful shadow and he was aware that I only pretended to share his taste in absolutely everything.

During the last year at college he developed a crush on a girl he saw on the train to and from Devon - in the year below us. He confessed his feelings and asked me to find out her name and ask her if she would go out with him.

I tracked her down in the loo and passed on the message. She was horrified, already had a steady boyfriend and didn't want to know.

But it was all over between him and me now. The last term was a very strained time (we still shared a flat with three other people) and although we remained 'together' on the surface the end of college meant goodbye.

My parents drove to London to collect me and I bought a half bottle of brandy to drink on the way home but it didn't dull the pain: I remained stone cold sober. On making enquiries some months later I learned that he was going out with the girl on the train's best friend.

A couple of years ago I tracked him down through Friends Reunited. In actual fact it was his wife (the best friend) who was on the list but a little curiosity driven detective work on my part discovered a very likely address and phone number.

I was going to London for a few days so I rang. It was his wife who answered and we spoke about college days and then went on to talk about our children. He wasn't at home  -  he was giving a course in Italy - but, yes, it would be good to meet up when I went over, she said.

So, we made arrangements to meet at a restaurant within walking distance of CCs flat. Jay, CC and I turned up early and as they went in to ask for a table for all of us I recognised MFL engrossed in his music scores with a bottle of wine. Apart from grey hair he hadn't changed one bit.

I said his name and he looked up. We greeted each other with a kiss on each cheek, the children came over and we sat down for a good old catch-up session. His wife would be late so we had nearly an hour to talk about old times. He thoroughly charmed my son and daughter and we laughed alot as we argued about exactly whose fault it was when I crashed his scooter and he thought it was completely mad of me to be living with 'two husbands'.

Then his wife arrived and the party calmed down a bit. We had a good meal but conversation was more formal. It's difficult to say whether or not we will keep in touch but I did invite them to come and see us and meant it sincerely.

I had to admit to myself that she was a much more suitable wife than I would have been. She was prepared to be the main bread winner so that he could pursue his dreams of being a conductor and freelance musician. They each had an independant life but it had brought them closer together as a couple.

My heart remembered the old tingle but my head told me to accept that it was never meant to be.