If I had that kind of money...

... I wouldn't spend $140,000,000 (£73 million, then) on a Klimt, $104,000,000 on a Picasso, or even $60,000,000 on a Cezanne. Not because I'm stingy or hate art, but because I have another use for the cash, one that used to be common amongst Very Rich People but has fallen into inexplicable disuse. Even at today's low interest rates, the income from that kind of sum would be ample for my purposes.

What I'd really like is to employ my own small chamber orchestra - or, if money were really tight, a consort of viols. Then, whenever I felt melancholy or had friends round for dinner I could make like Duke Orsino, clap my hands and cry "Music, ho!" And, either in a corner of the orangery or possibly from behind a Coromandel screen, the strains of Dowland or Gibbons would well up, bringing tears of pleasure to all who heard. The pictures on my walls might be reproductions, but the music would be the real thing, and different every time.

Is this not an enchanting vision? It was common enough in the Renaissance, and there are plenty of people who could afford it today. But who does? Unlike a dusty canvas sitting (like as not) in a bank vault, it would give continuing employment to jobbing musicians, and allow me to become the centre of a salon like the patrons of old, whether or not I had any talent myself. Alas, musicians, unlike old masters, do not appreciate with age, and I fear that most rich people's love of art is more than a little tainted with a love of investment potential - but I say, come on Charles Saatchi, pull your finger out! Make like a good investor and diversify your portfolio! Give the other muses a chance to shine! (And by the way, if you want any children's stories for your collection, PM me.)

Unmarried marriage counsellors?

The phrases "Catholic church" and "teachings about sexuality" are not normally a happy combination, but I must admit I was rather charmed by news of Seks, the so-called Catholic Kama Sutra, which has been published by a Polish Franciscan. At first, I was thinking sarcastically that if a celibate monk could publish a sex guide then perhaps I ought to crack on with my Introduction to Egg Sucking for the Over-Sixties or maybe even Beyond Lasts: A Cobbler Speaks; but I was pleasantly surprised by passages such as this:

"Some people, when they hear about the holiness of married sex, immediately imagine that such sex has to be deprived of joy, frivolous play, fantasy and attractive positions... [They think] it has to be sad like a traditional church hymn... Every act - a type of caress, a sexual position - with the goal of arousal is permitted and pleases God."

At any rate, it's sobering to reflect that (the restriction of sex to married couples and the disapproval of contraceptives notwithstanding) this advice is considerably more broad-minded than that of, say, Ray Blanchard, chair of the American Psychiatric Association's working group on paraphilias for the forthcoming DSM-V, who regards any act or interest that doesn't have the goal of penetrative sex as a sign of mental disorder.

Which of these two is the true heir of St Augustine?