Not only was I able (or stupid enough) to forgive TPR’s latest misdemeanour, but here I was comforting his latest conquest. Without any care for the feelings of the betrayed wife, the dumpy, blonde, middle-aged lecturer sobbed in my arms, dreadfully upset that her colleagues at Robert Gordon University were labelling her a tart.

Although angry with my errant husband, I was grateful for the improvement in TPR’s taste in mistresses. (I had been rather ashamed that his previous love interest was our cleaner.)