Many years ago I worked with a chap called Andrew who came from a prosperous Christian family who lived on the banks of the River Thames in Marlow. Andrew, a keen rower and a structural engineer in the City became, despite our different upbringings, a firm friend.

On the few occasions I go to London I meet up with Andrew, who during the time I knew him, got married to Lorraine, a demure and very classically English lady who always came across as humble and sociable. Andrew and Lorraine settled in a small village in between Marlow and Henley, living what I believed, was a perfect existence.

Imagine then, my surprise and indeed, shock, when, about a year ago, Andrew told me that he had discovered that Lorraine had been having an intense but apparently non-sexual relationship with a member of the local Parish Council. This rocked Andrew to his foundations and increasingly, he would call me in a confused state, saying how he had lost his faith in Lorraine and was struggling to keep the marriage together.

Lorraine ended the relationship with the councillor in a bid to save the marriage but the plot thickened when about a month ago, Andrew called me to say that he had started to fall in love with a young woman by the name of Clare-Lee, from Beaumont in Texas, who was working at his practice on a year’s placement.

Like most men, I had pre-conceived visions of Clare-Lee being an all American blonde girl in cowboy shirt with a body that featured large breasts but a tiny brain. It was my assumption that Andrew was heading into a classic mid-life crisis and after years of conservatism, rebellious non-conformity was about to explode from within and lead him down a path to a town called chaos.

Quite to the contrary of my beliefs, I discovered via LinkedIn (a kind of business Facebook) that Clare-Lee was incredibly bright. She had masters in mathematics from her studies Harvard University and was something of a rising star in the American structural engineering sector. Of course, Clare-Lee was very attractive too but at 15 years Andrew’s junior, I had suspicions of her intent.

At the back end of last week, Andrew rang me and informed me that although he still loved Lorraine dearly, it was his intent to end the marriage so he could commence a relationship with Clare-Lee. I tried to talk sense into him saying that he was in a classic male crisis that comes with middle age but he remained convinced that Clare-Lee was the woman he wanted to spend his life with.

He finally relented and agreed with my assertion that he must talk to Lorraine and what it was that made her embark on a relationship with the councillor. Inexplicably, he asked me to be a third party in these talks, because, ludicrously, it was his assumption that because I had been divorced many years ago, I would be able to help them come up with a solution to the mess they had got themselves in to.

Anyway, yesterday, I reluctantly to meet Lorraine and Andrew for a walk along The Thames and a pub lunch. Andrew had convinced me that he would try to make it work with Lorraine and that he relationship with Clare-Lee had not developed past anything more than a close friendship, which I was hesitant to believe, but hey, let’s not get into the complexities of that.

As we walked downstream, I wondered what on earth I was doing there and decided I had to leave them to it. However, as I turned, part of the bank collapsed under the weight of the recent rain. Lorraine fell and was instantly swept away towards the weir. She had no chance.

Hopelessly I rushed along the path to see if I could do anything but it was no more than a token effort.

“WAIT”, said Andrew, “don’t you see that everything is going to be okay?”

“WHAT?” I cried.

Then he started clicking his fingers burst into loud song.

“I can see Clare-Lee now Lorraine has gone”