Harry's Blog

I'm 34 years old and despite not feeling very grown up much of the time (no bad thing) I am at least allowed out late without having to answer to anyone. In fact given my job as a journalist I expect most people would be disappointed if I didn't come rolling home at 3am, loaded to the gills with cheap brandy.

Not so my delightful date for this evening. The gorgeous RJ, who I met last week. She has an important role within the Church of England that brings with it responsibility and the requirement for not only keeping up an accepted standard of behaviour - but also being seen to keep up that standard of behaviour.

For example, snogging on the platform at Tottenham Court Road tube station is not too serious in those terms, but skirting close perhaps to a fine line. So we probably shouldn't do anything like that, as if we would!

It's with some interest then, and no little humour and anticipation on my part, that there has been a suggestion (not from either of us) that we perhaps go on dates with a chaperone. I think this is a splendid idea - mainly because it would make a wonderful story for the blog. Though RJ is perhaps right that it would be hilarious for five minutes and then really quite annoying for the rest of the evening (something in common with my conversation then).

And then there's the subject of who is going to pay for the chaperone's dinner. Now I'm quite old fashioned in that I like to pay when I take someone out for dinner. But add another 50 percent to the bill for a chaperone and suddenly only Pizza Hut seems an affordable destination.

Of course there's also the danger of playing footsie under the table and getting the wrong foot. And then you're in danger of inflaming the passions of some old dear of the parish. A charmer I may be, but that's not really how I see a great evening out.

Going further ahead, should these dates turn into something precious we wish to hold onto, there is even further interest from the church. It seems I'd actually have to be interviewed - which makes talking to a lass' father a breeze in comparison. Can you imagine being interviewed by a bishop for the role of boyfriend to the member of the clergy?

I'd love to see the forms one has to fill out. I suppose many blokes would run an absolute mile from this kind of situation - but I find it rather fascinating. And besides, when you meet someone as achingly cute as RJ, there's really not a mountain of Kafkaesque theocratic bureaucracy big enough that could turn you away.

No chaperone tonight, but I think we can rely on the staff of Pizza Express in that role, unknowing though they will be.