Face up to it married men of the world and bear your lot.

I stated last week that men (particularly those of a certain age) are predisposed to seeking (usually in vain) a quiet life.

Some men think that divorce will provide them with a chance to glimpse that dream of a quiet life, because so many of life's complications are associated with the complexities of relationships. How- ever, things are rarely, if ever, that simple.

Sat at home with your 'quiet life', the silence can be deafening at times.

A quiet life comes at a price (make sure it's not your sanity).

When you're toughing out those long dark winter nights on your own, you may try to cure the silence by talking to the fridge (see also my column on talking to inanimate objects and domestic appliances vis a vis Shirley Valentine).

If you start blaming the fridge for the fact that you can't find your keys or the fact you burnt the Big Soup in the saucepan then your new life is proving to be a little bit too quiet.

Not having someone to bounce off your ideas, thoughts, feelings and experiences can be a frustrating experience.

Not having someone to blame is also a bit of a downer.

The other way to cope with a life that's just a little too quiet for comfort is to listen to the radio.

This provides much-needed background noise to mask the mercifully nag-free silence.

The best programmes to tune in to are those late night phone-ins focusing on some debate about the rapidly deteriorating state of the nation and its moral fabric.

Firstly, when you hear other listeners phoning in to share their half-baked, bigoted views you will be comforted by the fact that there are some people out there more sad and alone than you are. These phone-ins also afford you the opportunity to shout, insult and bawl at someone with impunity, and not have them answer back.

While we're on the subject of listening to the radio, tuning in to Terry Wogan on Radio 2 is a clear indicator that you have acquired a soporific, "quiet life" mind-set.

In your anarchic, sabre-rattling, raucous, testosterone-fuelled Radio 1 years you would have rather announced your sexual status as a virgin than be caught listening to Tezza on Two. Now you find yourself not only confessing to listening to Wogan,but telling anyone who cares to listen that you've not had any "how's ya father" for months since your divorce