Dear Geraldine

Out of nowhere, my wife has taken up fishing off Welston Pier. She’s out most evenings after work and a good portion of the weekend. I know that the young, single gentleman from two doors down is a keen fisherman.

She comes home with colour in her cheeks, a smile on her face, but never any fish. Not even a sprat! Meanwhile, I’m left hungry. I was hoping for fish suppers. Instead, I’m surviving on tins and toast.

It’s quite unfair, because I’m dedicating every spare moment to improving my figure painting. With enough skill, the Welston War Gamers (who only take on new members when an old one either leaves or dies) may finally accept me. It’s hard work, and it deserves my full concentration. For my painting to wow the WWG, I need at least three hearty meals a day.

Could you use Work to find out if she’s having an affair?

Yours hopefully,

Wounded of Welston

Dearest Wounded,

If you’re truly worried about your wife’s faithfulness, you need a private detective, not a witch. And before you hire anyone, ask yourself: what century are you living in? Mrs Wounded is your wife, not your cook. If you require three hearty meals a day, you know where the frying pan is.

More to the point, have you thought how she must feel, watching you hunched over your toy soldiers while she waits for the next WWG vacancy? Nothing kills romance quicker than the smell of enamel paint.

My advice? Pay Mrs Wounded more attention. Join her on one of her fishing expeditions, or better yet, cook a meal together with whatever she doesn’t catch. I guarantee you’ll find her better company than a pilchard on toast, and infinitely more rewarding than painting tiny weapons for little men.

Yours,

Geraldine