In the UK many of us have adopted the term ‘home-maker’ as we didn’t like being referred to as a ‘house-wife’. I didn’t marry a house.

However, this new term makes everything sound so lovely. I feel like I should be wearing some sort of flowing, cotton dress which is obviously patterned with perfect strawberries, while I flounce from room to room plumping cushions and carrying fresh flowers to every corner. I’ll have a perfect apron which has just a light dusting of flour as I obviously make all my own bread, rolls, croissants, biscuits, crackers and the butter to go on them.

There will be no dust in my house and what little I do find, sparkles as if the fairies themselves have spread it.

My cupboards are so neatly organised it would make the psycho husband from ‘Sleeping with the enemy’ jealous. All our clothes are ironed, pressed and starched to perfection, without any stains, tears or grease drips showing on them whatsoever.

The dog never drops a hair obviously and his paws are so clean he practically skates around the house like a four-legged professional.

My carpets are hoovered daily with a smile on my face, even though they have not a trace of dirt in them and there are never any bugs in my house – they just wouldn’t dare.

You get the picture by now I suppose.

The reality is different. I try the whole ‘put all your dishes away and sweep your kitchen floor after you’ve wiped down all the counters before you go to bed every night’. I swear, I’ve tried. I settle mostly for the majority of the dishes being put away and no obvious dirt on the floor.

And the laundry? Well it never ends. It’s just one constant cycle which just keeps coming. Cooking from scratch every day – I try. I mostly succeed but I confess I always have standbys in the freezer for those days when I realise I’m human and I just can’t be arsed.

You may be wondering what brought all this on? Well, it happened today so I wanted to bring it to you while it was fresh in my mind and still boiling in my blood.

The weather was dismal ALL DAY. We did our home-schooling stuff so that was all good but I still had dinner to do – and dishes were waiting to be put away before I even started. It often feels like what I call ‘kitchen jenga’: trying to take something from the mountain in the draining rack then trying to put it in it’s place without causing mayhem.

That was all dealt with. Again. Dinner was cooked (from scratch, thank you) and more dishes were washed and mostly put away. Again. Then I brought in the basket of laundry and started the ironing Olympics. Again. And I couldn’t help myself but I practically shouted aloud ‘Dear God, this is boring’.

So can we just be honest and admit that sometimes the hamster wheel of dusting, cleaning, washing, ironing, tidying, cooking, and so on, just feels downright boring?

(Thank you. And now I shall go put on my strawberry apron and bake scones.)