laughed dutifully at the memory of this foolishness.
In contrast to the tropical temperature generated by the new heating system the bedroom presented a cool, austere appearance. The modern furniture was white; my wardrobe and tallboy, inherited from my father, stood in my dressing-room next door. Lyle had chosen the white furniture, just as she had chosen the ice-blue curtains and the wintry grey carpet. At first I had thought: how cold! But soon I had realised that the coldness became erotic when it formed the background for Lyle’s collection of nightwear.
Lyle had never adjusted her wardrobe to her advancing years. Having kept her figure she had no trouble buying exactly what she liked, and what she liked had changed little since I had first met her. During the day she wore simple, elegant suits and dresses in chaste, muted colours and looked like a very exclusive executive secretary – or perhaps like a grand version of the lady’s companion she had been in the 1930s when she had run the palace so efficiently for the Jardines. But at night the air of propriety was discarded and amazing creations foamed and frothed from the ice-white wardrobe. Then indeed my pity for the celibate bishops of the Early Church knew no bounds.
‘ What would I do,’ I said as I slid between the sheets, ‘if you weighed twelve stone and wore flannel nightgowns and had hair like corrugated iron?’
Die of boredom. And what would I do if you were bald and paunchy and looked like an elderly baby?’
‘ I’m sure you’d find some stimulating solution.’
An amusing interlude followed. I find it curious that it should be so widely believed that no one over sixty can possibly be interested in sexual intercourse, and I find it well-nigh scandalous that so many people today still believe that Christianity is against sex. Christianity has certainly experienced bouts of thinking that there are better ways of occupying one’s time – in the Early Church, for instance, when the end of the world was believed to be imminent, procreation was inevitably regarded as a self-indulgent escape from the far more urgent task of saving souls – but today it is generally recognised among Christians that sexual intercourse is good. It is the abuse of sexual intercourse which causes all the problems and which prompts Christians like me to speak up in the hope of saving people from being exploited, tormented and wrecked. At Cambridge my undergraduates had nicknamed me ‘Anti-Sex Ashworth’, but no sobriquet could have been more inappro priate. I may be an ardent moralist but I put a high value on sex – which explains why I am an ardent moralist. I detest the fact that this great gift from God is regularly devalued and degraded.
‘ St Paul should have had sex regularly,’ said Lyle later as we lit our cigarettes. ’Why have you got your knife into St Paul all of a sudden?’
‘ He was beastly to women and queers.’
‘ That’s a highly debatable statement. If one takes into account that some of the Epistles weren’t written by him –’
‘ What would St Paul have said to the woman in my prayer-group who broke down last week and told us her son was deeply in love with another man?’
‘ I’m sure he’d have been extremely kind to her.’
‘But she doesn’t want mere kindness, Charles, least of all for herself ! She wants her son to be accepted, particularly by the Church. She says: is it right that a promiscuous homosexual can confess to an error and receive absolution while two homosexuals who practise fidelity in a loving relationship are barred from receiv ing the sacrament?’
‘ She’s mistaken in assuming that a promiscuous homosexual would automatically receive absolution. I certainly wouldn’t absolve anyone I thought intended to continue committing buggery in public lavatories.’
‘ Yes, but –’
‘ Also I don’t think you should lose sight of the law of the land. Homosexual acts are illegal. You surely can’t
In contrast to the tropical temperature generated by the new heating system the bedroom presented a cool, austere appearance. The modern furniture was white; my wardrobe and tallboy, inherited from my father, stood in my dressing-room next door. Lyle had chosen the white furniture, just as she had chosen the ice-blue curtains and the wintry grey carpet. At first I had thought: how cold! But soon I had realised that the coldness became erotic when it formed the background for Lyle’s collection of nightwear.
Lyle had never adjusted her wardrobe to her advancing years. Having kept her figure she had no trouble buying exactly what she liked, and what she liked had changed little since I had first met her. During the day she wore simple, elegant suits and dresses in chaste, muted colours and looked like a very exclusive executive secretary – or perhaps like a grand version of the lady’s companion she had been in the 1930s when she had run the palace so efficiently for the Jardines. But at night the air of propriety was discarded and amazing creations foamed and frothed from the ice-white wardrobe. Then indeed my pity for the celibate bishops of the Early Church knew no bounds.
‘ What would I do,’ I said as I slid between the sheets, ‘if you weighed twelve stone and wore flannel nightgowns and had hair like corrugated iron?’
Die of boredom. And what would I do if you were bald and paunchy and looked like an elderly baby?’
‘ I’m sure you’d find some stimulating solution.’
An amusing interlude followed. I find it curious that it should be so widely believed that no one over sixty can possibly be interested in sexual intercourse, and I find it well-nigh scandalous that so many people today still believe that Christianity is against sex. Christianity has certainly experienced bouts of thinking that there are better ways of occupying one’s time – in the Early Church, for instance, when the end of the world was believed to be imminent, procreation was inevitably regarded as a self-indulgent escape from the far more urgent task of saving souls – but today it is generally recognised among Christians that sexual intercourse is good. It is the abuse of sexual intercourse which causes all the problems and which prompts Christians like me to speak up in the hope of saving people from being exploited, tormented and wrecked. At Cambridge my undergraduates had nicknamed me ‘Anti-Sex Ashworth’, but no sobriquet could have been more inappro priate. I may be an ardent moralist but I put a high value on sex – which explains why I am an ardent moralist. I detest the fact that this great gift from God is regularly devalued and degraded.
‘ St Paul should have had sex regularly,’ said Lyle later as we lit our cigarettes. ’Why have you got your knife into St Paul all of a sudden?’
‘ He was beastly to women and queers.’
‘ That’s a highly debatable statement. If one takes into account that some of the Epistles weren’t written by him –’
‘ What would St Paul have said to the woman in my prayer-group who broke down last week and told us her son was deeply in love with another man?’
‘ I’m sure he’d have been extremely kind to her.’
‘But she doesn’t want mere kindness, Charles, least of all for herself ! She wants her son to be accepted, particularly by the Church. She says: is it right that a promiscuous homosexual can confess to an error and receive absolution while two homosexuals who practise fidelity in a loving relationship are barred from receiv ing the sacrament?’
‘ She’s mistaken in assuming that a promiscuous homosexual would automatically receive absolution. I certainly wouldn’t absolve anyone I thought intended to continue committing buggery in public lavatories.’
‘ Yes, but –’
‘ Also I don’t think you should lose sight of the law of the land. Homosexual acts are illegal. You surely can’t
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