Tonight I am performing an unnatural act. Ironing. As I’m smoothing the sleeve of my husband’s shirt I think about how people don’t iron anymore. Not in the way that they used to anyway. Well, apart from my mother-in-law who irons sheets, socks and even underwear. My sister doesn’t even own an iron. God it’s hard to iron shirt sleeves. I’m already bored of the idea of being a model wife and surprising my husband when he comes home.

I wonder who invented the ironing board? It’s a ridiculous shape. It should be much wider. By the time I’ve ironed one bit it’s hanging over the edge getting creased again.

When I was younger and lived with my mum, she had an ironing basket which lived under the kitchen counter. All of the clean washing went into the ironing basket (along with the cat when he wanted somewhere quiet to sleep) and once a week my mum would stand in our front room, working her way through the basket, ironing creases and putting everything on hangers. And then there were those things that ‘lived’ in the basket. A cotton blouse and other ridiculously hard to iron items. I have similar items that live in my washing basket – hand wash only garments. Some of them have been there for years.

Yes, the art of ironing has definitely passed. Next time I’ll be super organised, take them to a professional ironing company and then pass them off as all my own work.

After a few weeks of calm in a spotlessly clean house the wheels have come off and we’ve gone over to the dark side. I did next to nothing this weekend. While this is a bit of a luxury- weekends are usually spent working – things have descended into chaos.

Saturday was spent with a sore head and nausea from the previous evening’s shenanigans. I wouldn’t mind but we didn’t even go out. Just a ‘few’ drinks while watching old Friends episodes. And yesterday we had all sorts of plans. I had a written list which said:- clean the house and sort out the back room. But instead we sat around all day watching DVDs and eating sweets.

The upshot is that today I’m now back on a diet and have given up alcohol. Again. I also had to get up at 4.50 to give me time to do my hair and still make it to work by 7.00. I was only slightly hindered by Tori who sprayed the settee twice. I then sprayed him (with water, I should add) and poor old Blossom got caught in the crossfire. Valuable minutes were spent consoling her and apologising profusely.

And just to put the top hat on it we started the day with a bit of a row, where I ended up slamming out of the house and coming to work on my own. If I get up at 4.50 in the morning I refuse to be late for work. Lord Levy, however, does not share this philosophy and spent 12 minutes (I timed him) on the toilet whilst playing cards on his mobile phone.

So, there you have it. Not a great start to the week.