Misplaced assumptions left me eating humble pie

What did the woman serving the quiche do while her brainy husband was working? Look after the children? Clean the house? Make dinner? I should know better than to make these numbskull assumptions.

It was at Stuart’s party – Stuart from the office – and I spent the first two hours talking to people I work with. Molly – I shall call her that – seemed left out until Stuart introduced us. ‘We just live in the village,’ she smiled. ‘I popped in to help Stuart with the food.’

She asked what I did and I asked what her husband did, and she said he was at the research institute up the road, which gave us something to talk about. Then it was kids – theirs are grown up – and the pros and cons of village life.

Almost as an afterthought, I popped what should have