Judy was 27. Her husband was in the RAF, and they were living at RAF Benson in Oxfordshire. Her period was about three days away.
She'd had PMS since her late teens, at a time when no one ever spoke about it. Every month it came back. Irritable. Low. Angry, and close to tears. And everything in her life was good.
I'll let her tell the next part.
"One time my husband said to me, why are you feeling like this? Explain the feelings."
She couldn't, not in words. The only way she could describe it was to point across the room.
"…see that wicker chair over there, I said, I, I just feel like picking it up and smashing it to pieces, little pieces, until it was completely broken, and I don't know why. And then I burst into tears."
"It's a wonder he didn't divorce me".
He didn't. But it would be fifteen years before Judy understood what had been going on.