I’ve had a cleaner for about six months. Actually it could be longer than that – I am so blissed out on a cloud of domestic happiness (and cleanliness) that I just can’t remember. I had been thinking for a while that neither myself or Mr S were actually any good at this cleaning malarky, and it would be good to get in a professional.

I didn’t fret about this decision at all. Because I am awful at cleaning. Awful. Even my mum was quite pleased because when she came to visit she might not be stepping into a domestic explosion.

So imagine my surprise at being practically labelled anti-female and middle-class by this Guardian article on the politics of domestic labour. Whilst I fully recognise there are complexities around the role of women in the home, and how far we have yet to come, this was taking it one step beyond. By employing a fellow woman in an “unfulfilling, sexist and degrading job” I was apparently against feminism and all that it stood for.

Excuse me while I step back from that article and roll my eyes.

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