When I'm a pensioner I'd like to think my bedtime habits involved a steaming cup of Horlicks, a long, warm wynciette nightie and a hot water bottle with a fluffy cover.

In other words, no different from today.

And there certainly won't be any hanky panky (again, no change from today), because by the time my husband and I have played with the grandkids, had a leisurely game of bowls, waltzed the afternoon away at the tea dance, and had a laugh at the Darby and Joan Club, we'll probably fall asleep in front of One Foot In The Grave.

How unlike the couple we'll be seeing in a TV documentary tonight. In their late 70s, the pair were not satisfied with love-making sessions lasting just one hour - and turned to the love drug Viagra to spice things up.

For many of us, passion doesn't go beyond the third date. And when you move it together - well, that really and truly spells the end of any steamy clinches.

I was reading an article at the weekend in which Suggs, the former lead singer with Madness, bemoaned the fact that people give up snogging once they stop being teenagers: "At first you practise frantically and it's all you do. Sadly, it becomes less important as you get older."

It's not that people don't care - they do, and the demand for Viagra, not only from those who suffer genuine medical difficulties - is proof enough.

For decades, we have tried all sorts of weird and wonderful methods to liven up our love lives.

A sprinkling of crushed rhino horn on your Sunday roast will, apparently, work wonders. But you won't find it on the shelves in Holland & Barrett.

There's bird's nest soup, and calves' brains - all very appetising. I suspect the way it works has nothing to do with the food - these things must be so revolting to eat, that the feeling of pure relief afterwards must relax the body in readiness for lovemaking.

I almost forgot the old favourite, caviar and oysters - both common dishes in our house.

Of course, for most of us, living in the real world, soft lights, softer music, maybe an open fire, and a bottle of plonk are - we hope - all that is needed.

But, in my experience anyway, those ingredients are much too relaxing - and you invariably end up dozing off on the sofa in front of the late-night B movie.

So it's back to Viagra - which apparently works as well for men as it does for women. A restaurant in France was recently prevented from selling meals containing the drug.

I can imagine the scene - there would be sniggers all round every time a couple left in a hurry. And I assume they then had to drive home...

The anticipation would be too much - I'd never be able to relax and enjoy myself knowing that my quiet, gentle, passive husband was suddenly going to acquire the sex drive of Peter Stringfellow.

I'd go for the wine and soft lights every time - it may not work wonders for my sex life, but at least I'd get a good night's sleep.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.