“Do you have a husband?” It’s a question I get asked every day, sometimes two or three times.
It’s usually as I ride on the back of a motorbike on my way into town from my house, which is out in the country. Clutching tight to the small handle on the back of the bike, doing my best not to fall off, I’ll lean forward to try and hear the driver as he talks to me from inside his bulky helmet.