Most people do not enter divorce lightly. Many couples fight hard for years to try and rescue relationships. There are men and women made miserable in marriages through no fault of either party. Their only recourse is to either enter a process that says someone must be at fault or endure a long, uncertain wait.
I consider myself a feminist. I consider myself to live in a world where things are certainly not equal for women, but being white, married, middle class, heterosexual and reasonably solvent meant that I did not experience the injustice so many women do on a daily basis.
Many parents experience parental alienation, but few have heard of it; one parent mentally manipulating a child to make them fear, disrespect or even hate the other. It is a hotly debated legal topic, particularly around how it should be monitored and governed, and it is an issue which is destroying families every day, across the UK.
Suranne Jones's portrayal of the GP hellbent on settling the score is undoubtedly polished and entertaining, but I can't help feeling that the storylines are reinforcing a negative and tired stereotype of 'a woman scorned'.
The day my divorce came through, it was an unusually sunny early spring day. I walked to the chip shop and randomly sat on a bench with Esme eating chips, completely baffled by the fact that with a date stamp on a piece of paper it was done. Divorced. Single.
On Saturday 21st of October at 7pm, a random group of strangers with one thing in common will meet for the first time in a dimly lit room in central London. They are likely to be feeling a little apprehensive, but white wine will take the edge off while they are paired up and allocated to tables.