The day my husband was caught on The Apprentice with another woman

It was something of a Blow-Up moment. The 1966 Antonioni film centres on a photographer who unwittingly captures a murder on film. In a (sort of) similar vein, producers of The Apprentice unwittingly captured my husband in a Brixton hipster hang-out in the first episode of the new series.

So what? At the time of filming, we lived in the area, very close to where the scene was filmed. I wasn't watching, but a particularly sharp-eyed friend quickly took a screen-grab and sent it round to a number of us, excitedly pointing out that my husband, myself and our baby were in shot.

Except it wasn’t me. It was a woman with long dark hair who could have been me, had she not been wearing someone else’s coat and been much better groomed. It was, therefore, Another Woman.

Now, I have every confidence that if my husband were to have an affair, it’s unlikely he would pick a location so close to our house, take our baby along as a prop, and conduct the whole thing in broad daylight.

And yet I couldn’t identify the woman - and neither could he.

There they were, sitting at a table together, drinking coffee and deep in conversation. Who was she?

“Err, I’m not sure that’s Rosa. Awkward,” wrote another friend, who’d seen the still.

It could indeed have been. The incessant photographing and filming of modern life means that privacy died out around the time social media was invented. Engage in anything untoward in public these days and you risk being captured by the lens of a smartphone - or even reality television - camera and exposed to the world. Just think of all the people exposed for behaving badly on Google Street View. Even if you’re just sitting at a picnic table, having a coffee with a friend, it seems you are not safe.

For this, it transpired, is what my husband was doing. After some time, he finally remembered: the Other Woman was in fact one of our mutual pals. He had further photographic evidence from the day itself to prove it. Not that I ever doubted him, naturally.

“Panic over,” I told my friends. “We’ve identified her.” (To which one helpfully replied: “Why is the panic over just because it’s one of your friends? It’s still perfectly possible he’s cheating on you.”)

As for our baby, I’m just glad she’s started her TV career young. I can only assume a cheque from the BBC is in the post.