Bless the woman, once again she takes the pith out of the discussion:
Dear Terry Wogan, she writes, I cannot believe that a man of your calibration is worried about money. You must have made millions comparing the Eurovision Song Contest, etc, though I still don't know why they paid you so much, seeing that you didn't even have to sing or dance, just stand their mumbling.
I never talk about money. Mr Trellis, my late husband, left me well provisioned, mostly a shedful of garden tools and a collection of pictures that I would rather not talk about, but also a nifty sum from the Pru that keeps me in filo pastry and white cotton unmentionables, etc.
So I suggest you stop moaning about money and get yourself a proper job. If you are a dab hand at gardening, I might be able to put some work your way: it's a shame not to put all those garden tools to some use, and the exercise might get some of the belly off you.