The opposite of sex

Hubby and I've been doing the bad thing a tad more regularly of late. This is a cunning ruse to save me from the HSG by becoming one of the couples I keep hearing about, who got pregnant just after they had abandoned all hope.

When I say "more regularly", I do not mean that my life now resembles an episode of Sex and the City. What I mean is that we've ramped it up to three dismal attempts per week rather than our customary two.

Twas always thus - hubby's a few years older than me, so it's the age-old problem that I'm probably just reaching my randy peak now, while he, ahem, climaxed when Yazz was still in the charts. So it's no surprise really that any attempt to boost our quota quickly degenerates into an experience akin to picking a lock with a herring.

If I sound like a nasty bitch, it's because I am. But don't imagine that I consider myself to be blameless in the decline of our once decent sex life into something clinical. On the contrary, my military attitude to "the right time", and my total loss of interest in anything other than the raw mechanic of getting sperm into me, cannot put hubby in mind of a wild sex kitten.

"A feminine receptacle, that's what I am," sang The Beautiful South. Quite. TTC sex is iredeemably crap. The notion that it's all rather exciting and debauched as you finally kick contraception to the kerb is utter bunkum. I should think most couples have been together so long that they've certainly cooled their interest in sex with one another, if not reached the active-avoidance-in-favour-of-watching-telly stage, by the time they start trying for a baby...

In fact, I think the world is ready for a practical, no-punches-pulled, two-step guide to more fulfilling TTC sex - and I'm the girl to write it.

Step one: Position

This is crucial to the success of proceedings in two key ways. It clearly has a bearing on how well you perform your "feminine receptacle" duties - woman on top is hardly conducive to efficient storage of the dollop. However, the position you finish in also needs to be easy to rework into a comfy post-op arrangement with minimal fuss.

There are three basic post-op positions:

i) Lying flat on your back, ideally on or in bed.

Pros: This is easy to get into - especially if your stance for the deed itself was missionary. It's also easy to remain essentially lying down for a good while without losing the will to live - and if it's the end of the evening, you can just go to sleep.

Cons: Although putting pants on does contain things somewhat, there will be spillage - so not on the Egyptian cotton. (I've actually entertained the idea of approaching the people who make Dragons' Den with a pitch for some sort of plug designed for TTC. I reckon it'd be made out of the same stuff they make earplugs with - one size fits all, and it's rinsable. I can just hear Duncan Bannatyne's response. "For that reason, I'm pulling out.")

ii) Lying relatively flat with a pillow under your bum.

Pros: As above.

Cons: You need either an old pillow or one whose owner won't complain about a certain musky, mushroomy odour afterwards...

iii) Lying on your back with your legs up the wall.

Pros: Just feels more dedicated to the cause, this one. You feel like a genuine protector of sperm.

Cons: Uncomfortable, unsustainable for long periods, and faintly ridiculous, this position is not conducive to post-shag chill time. You'll list legache, backache and neckache among your immediate sources of misery, and should you reach for a slug of wine to numb the wretchedness, you're liable to choke to death.

Another caveat with this position is that it has to be scrambled into immediately. Even a few seconds of delay can ruin everything. The sensation of lying almost vertically upside down whilst the very substance you're seeking to retain dribbles down your back is a dispiriting one.

Step two: Accessories

No, not sex toys. I'm talking about stuff to occupy you afterwards. You're going to be lying around for ages, and I can guarantee hubby will get bored talking to you and slope off downstairs to watch The Battleship Potemkin or similar.

A book or magazine; the Sunday papers; an iPod; a coffee or glass of wine, depending on the time of day and your state of mind - all these come in handy, as does the phone, provided you won't feel too sordid carrying on a conversation while sperm trickles listlessly into your gusset.

It's worth assembling these items before you begin, otherwise you'll have to send hubby to collect them, which he may not relish. "Lying there shouting orders like bloody Cleopatra" is a post-coital accusation that has been levelled at me, along with the truly arresting "Just put a collar on me and call me Fido".