Dear Perry, my gallant knight

Lucinda Lambton salutes her husband, Sir Peregrine Worsthorne, the Sunday Telegraph editor who died in October aged 96

- Sir Peregrine Worsthorne

Perry was my sweetheart – my handsome-as-a-man-can-be, beloved sweetheart.

When we met, he asked why I had fallen in love with him and I answered without hesitation that it was because of his elegance of mind and manner.

So it was and so it most dashingly continued to be, these qualities delighting me for every one of the 30 years of our marriage. My admiration for him glowed with a tremendous pride that never dimmed one jot.

He was a clever, fearless and original thinker, as well as being a consistently good, kind and sympathetic man. What a particular delight it was never to be disappointed or let down by even a shadow of the second rate, while always feeling able to rely on his wisdom and understanding. At the same time, it must be said that he certainly had some controversial views!

Our lives together – our listening to thundering classical music in front of the fire, writing and walking in the countryside with four dogs – were pretty perfect.

Good fun was had when he relished pricking the pomposity of those who deserved it, which gave him enormous pleasure. Smiling in a particularly satisfied way, he would gleefully rub his hands together, delightedly crowing, ‘I’ve got them now, Luce – I’ve got them now!’