I was fixing breakfast for our three-year-old daughter Eva when my husband Jim’s phone buzzed again. He’d been out with friends the night before and his mobile was on the worktop, along with the remnants of his greasy late-night pizza. Jim was upstairs in the shower, so, annoyed by the buzzing and curious at what could be that urgent, I picked it up.
The messages were coming from a WhatsApp group of old friends he’d been out with. They were all middle-aged (and mostly married) but they’d ironically named the group ‘Bangin’ Nights Out’. The irony obviously strayed into the messages, which were full of text slang I’d never heard my well-spoken husband use. One message he’d sent a few hours earlier…