Richard Madeley Agony Uncle

The author and broadcaster answers your questions. Write to DearRichard@ telegraph.co.uk

Dear Richard I’ve fallen into a rave nostalgia wormhole – should I tell my wife? Q

It’s partly a product of lockdown, but I have been following lots of 1990s nostalgia accounts on social media. It was a very happy but somewhat chaotic time of my life when I went clubbing a lot, took drugs and had a lot, and I mean a lot, of sexual partners.

My wife and I met towards the end of that time at a more conventional dinner party, and so the “rave” scene wasn’t really part of our shared life – work was getting more demanding and pretty soon we settled down, as the saying goes. Now we have a comfortable home, two kids and all that.

Seeing all these clips of warehouse parties has got me thinking back to how much fun everything was. I am also sharing messages and comments with people from those days, who I haven’t seen for more than two decades, many of whom I did some quite naughty things with.

I know you can’t go backwards in life and I love my family and my home, but I feel a little guilty that I’m getting so much pleasure from sharing memories that my wife doesn’t figure in, and – basically – having online banter with loads of ex-girlfriends, among other people.

Should I find some way to share this with her? I keep bursting out laughing on my phone and she says what is it and I say “nothing”, or even lie.

Anon, via email

Dear Anon A

You need to snap back into present reality, and fast. How can you possibly share explicit details of your rollercoaster past with your wife? What’s in it for her? Is she supposed to laugh at all those in-jokes and obscure references that make you and your old paramours chuckle as you swap your pill-popping erotic reminiscences on iPhones and iPads? There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with recalling old memories; it’s impossible not to. But what you’re doing is reliving your louche past online – and not just now and again, but, from the sound of your letter, pretty much all the time.

Look. I guarantee no good will come of this, so I’m going to be blunt. You’re being self-indulgent, sentimental and potentially self-destructive. Do a threepoint turn and head back out of memory lane before it’s too late, my friend.

Dear Richard When we finally get to go on holiday, how can I persuade my husband that his ‘beach body’ is nothing to be ashamed of? Q

We are booking a beach holiday in the Caribbean for next winter, in expectation as well as hope for a change, and the prospect is wonderful – but it also raises a troublesome issue.

On our previous two such jaunts, my husband, a relatively well-preserved and trim 60-something, would remove his T-shirt only to go swimming, remaining covered up all day, even when sunbathing alongside me next to the pool.

He looked daft, to be honest, and his tan was ridiculous. It turns out, after aggressive questioning, that he is very self-conscious about his “moobs”. These are hardly noticeable and anyway part of the package at his age, so I don’t see the reason for any fuss.

How can I reassure him and avoid a repeat of the great cover-up this winter? Emma, Cheshire

Dear Emma A

Really? I think you should leave him alone. If he’s self-conscious about his appearance, and keeping a

T-shirt on alleviates that anxiety, so what? What’s it to you if he has an all-over body tan or not? Really, who cares? And why the need for “aggressive questioning” on such a trivial yet personal matter?

By all means reassure him that his so-called “man boobs” are largely a figment of his imagination. But if he still feels the need to cover up, just let him. He’s not harming you, himself, or anyone else.

Anyway, lots of people happily sunbathe in T-shirts and shorts; he’s not behaving like some kind of freak.

I think you should ask yourself why this bothers you so much, because I have to say I find your annoyance over his harmless Caribbean cover-up rather odd. It smacks of control issues, if I’m honest.

Assuming we are all released from our captivity by then, bask in your winter sunshine, relax – and be kind to your man with no tan.

Live and let live, Emma.