Sympathetic Sybil is Write Out Loud's own Agony Aunt, send your problem to sybil@writeoutloud.net

Well Darlings,

I completely forgot last month that I was going on holiday so was slightly put out when the editor asked where this month’s contribution was. Of course I like to do my bit for the little people but this column takes it’s toll you know and dear Dermot did give me a rather generous bonus last month, I’m not sure what for, perhaps he’s a bit of a banker.

How he tracked me down the Lord only knows, because I’ve been hard pushed at times to know where the devil I am myself.

And yet it all started so promisingly with an invitation to Mustique for a “How to get rich” seminar by my friend Felix (Dennis? ed). How was I to know that he hadn’t booked me in anywhere and how anyone who isn’t simply dripping with the green stuff would actually get out of the airport beats me.

Thankfully, I did run into a minor royal who offered me a bunk for a couple of nights. I was having sex-on-the-beach when I found the flyer for Felix’s event in my handbag. What a silly I had been, the seminar was in Mustique Crescent, Lower Broughton – if only I’d known it was virtually round the corner. I sipped on my cocktail and mused how rum life could be for a game old bird like me and determined to make the best of it.

The weather, it was terribly hot and humid, and what with all the drink, drugs, sex and the never ending partying the royals soon tired of me and offered to fly me to anywhere I chose.

I pondered where to go, I hadn’t much time as they kindly packed for me and had a chauffeur-driven car waiting, so I decided on somewhere cooler and took the first plane to Moscow.

Talk about frying pans, wouldn’t you know it, Moscow is cooking in the highest temperatures on record, it was 35 degrees yesterday, which doesn’t sound very hot until you realise it’s 95 degrees in old money. I spent yesterday watching young people swimming cheerily in cold water only to realise with horror that they weren’t splashing about and waving but drowning.

How I envy you back in dismal, grey Blighty where I understand it’s time to put the central heating on.

I hope to be back to normal next month

Dame Sybil