Just now, while I was watching TV, the phone rang in the hall and I went to pick it up. A man's voice said, 'It's the music shop. Can I speak to Mr Hill, please?'
I don't know why, but I said 'Speaking.' I swear the menopause gives women a form of Tourette's.
'Oh,' he said, clearly surprised that Mr Hill had a woman's voice, especially as, in the shop two weeks ago, he'd had a deep bass voice, substantial facial hair, and was wearing a flat cap.
I wasn't sure how to backtrack.
'One second,' I said, and stepped into the kitchen where my husband was making bread.
'It's the music shop for you,' I said, thrusting the phone at him, keen to escape the embarrassing situation and get back to watching Homes under the Hammer.
'They'll have to hang on,' my husband said, making no attempt to keep his voice do…