Despite having spent most of my life surrounded by men, with no sign of a female in my family (apart from my lovely mum and Aunty Mary), I’d normally always root for the female in an argument.
Not least because we’re never generally awarded the respect that men can often take for granted.
We’re left feeling we always have something to prove. It stems from the days, I guess, when my mum had to wait to be given “housekeeping” from my dad, which – good for her – she snuck away in a savings account for “emergencies” ie food, clothing and Christmas (maybe even a possible exit if she and dad were going through a bad patch).
