For my mother didn't just write about sex, she spoke about it, too, and got banned from the BBC for swearing to the same degree as the notorious critic Kenneth Tynan.
She even got banned for drunkenness and profanity from the Dublin Festival, a first I believe.
She felt she'd overdone sex, as with alcohol, and was relieved to be rid of her sexual desire.
I know she has boyfriends, but I don't want to know the details of her sexual activity, and I'm certain she doesn't want to know the details of mine.
I fully intend to keep sexually active with my partner for as long as the mood strikes, hopefully until death, but I will not be alluding to it on the internet - unlike my mother who writes about her sex life on a literary and political website called Madame Arcati.
Not only does it make you live longer, but as the doctor apparently said - it makes older people a bloody sight less miserable.
He even gave her a bag of condoms in case she should be caught up with the excitement of life again.
Aren't we allowed to keep anything intimate, and therefore special?
I have a 17-year-old daughter with whom I have gone through all the permutations of sex education, to her embarrassment, but I do not discuss my love life with her.
All the ins and outs (if you'll excuse the phrase) from one-night stands to sexual marathons with entire teams of Spanish footballers - or were they rugby players? At various points while being fashion editor for Nova magazine and the Sunday Times, she also wrote ten comic erotic books that were placed on the upper shelves in WH Smith, because of their explicit covers and content. 'Well you're reading it so there must be a market for it, among spotty adolescent boys,' I'd retort bravely.
Then there were the articles she wrote for top-shelf magazines Forum and Men Only, magazines that boys at my posh boarding school would confront me with, once they had been twice around the dormitory and were so well thumbed only the author's name was still visible. You become quick with comeback lines at 13, when you have to toughen up under the sometimes hilarious humiliation of an outrageous and alcoholic mother's behaviour.
Finally I was rid of all the mad tales, the stories from strangers, the opening line 'Oh you're Molly Parkin's daughter, oh I know Molly well, yeeees, very well!