The lid to the laundry basket does come off you know ...

Its the Easter Holidays and my boys are BORED!!! The only things they are interested in doing are sitting slumped in their dressing gowns playing the x box ( I hate you x box inventor!!!) or avoiding helping me with the household chores.

Getting them to empty half the dishwasher each is akin to forcing them to gouge their own eyes out with spoons ... or wash. However I do persevere in an attempt to teach them that this house is all our responsibility and they need to partake of various duties. I am not sure whether it is perhaps a genetic deficiency but neither they nor their father seem to have realised as yet that the lid of the laundry basket does actually come off. I am met constantly by piles of their clothes dumped unceremoniously on top of the lid, on the floor by the basket ... anywhere other than in the damned thing.

Being the only girl in a male dominated house can be frustrating to say the least some days. Don't get me wrong - I love sport and can enjoy a game of football or a round of golf with the best of those hairy types, but sometimes it gets a bit much. For example this afternoon ... We have decided to go to the pictures. All we need to do is decide on a film. An easy task? NO!!

I would like to go and see the Marigold Hotel ideally. Pirates is a possibility. But the film of choice which we will end up seeing is ... Wrath of the Titans. Oh deep joy. 99 minutes of testosterone fuelled machismo. I did look to see if there was a film being showed at the same time as this ghastly one that might keep me sane. But nope. Nothing. Nada.

I seem to spend my whole time immersed in the world of men. There is little pink or glitter involved and at the moment I am alternating between chief cook, bottle washer and psychiatrist. Of course I love all 3 of my boys and maybe day long dance competitions, preceded by gluing on thousands of diamante beads, would drive me just as mad. But I do seem to watch rather more than my fair share of Top Gear, Match of the Day and The Simpsons ...

This is why I escape to the gym, the allotment ... and why I have started having hour long manicures. Anyway ... enough writing for now. I have to go and iron my husband's shirt ...

Wanted: a sport free telly.

This evening I am a refugee in my own kitchen. We have reached a stage in my house where the tv, in the lounge, is constantly occupied with sport. Now, you know that I am a sports fan... I really do enjoy watching and playing sport, but.... OMG... as they say on the social networks. I have had enough.

There are 3 boys in my house and I am outnumbered when it comes to the telly. Do they want to watch Downton Abbey? No. Do they want to watch America's Next Top Model? No. Would they even consider watching Dancing on Ice? Absolutely not.

And I am expected to sit through countless evenings of Arsenal trying desperately to win some silverware, with not a bat of an eyelid or a raising of an eyebrow.The tedium of night after night of football, golf, cricket... Its enough to drive a woman to drink. There would appear to be no room for compromise. I am the one who has to step aside. I am the one who is outnumbered.

And why am I accepting of this? Why don't I go in there and demand to watch what I want on the tv? Well, the answer is simply that I am choosing my battles. I am avoiding conflict. I just cannot be bothered with the fallout of men peeved, men denied their sporting fix.I know that there would be tears at bedtime and I just can't bear the thought of having to deal with that...

I now understand my mother's decision over 30 years ago to buy a 'sport free' tv. At the time both the tv salesman and we children thought she had lost her marbles. Now I can look back and see her genius, her far reaching wisdom. I am very close to getting a new tv myself. A nice small portable for the kitchen maybe... then the men in my house can gather round it and watch their sport in peace...

You didn't think that I wanted it did you? Not likely. They can have a portable in the kitchen and I'll settle down with a glass of Merlot and Colin Firth in the lounge.... hmmmmmmmmm

An Osprey bag, madam?? No thanks - I am far too pure and selfless...

To buy or not to buy an expensive handbag... This is how shallow my life has become. I always knew that I was easily tempted by lovely things, but in the last couple of days I have sunk to an all time low... or shallow, depending on how you look at it.

It started when I ventured into a local boutique that sells posh handbags - Osprey to be exact.Their sale was on and I was drawn in by the scent of luxury leather and incense sticks. I browsed around the various goods on offer and although I was tempted I did not weaken enough to buy anything.

When I got home, however, my husband revealed that he had gone and bought himself a new bike. A new bike??? Is he mad??? Its mid January, he doesn't cycle and works in central London. In a blatant tit for tat move I immediately thought 'If he can get a bike, why don't I get a posh handbag?!'

I might have actually said these words out loud for , give him his due, he did offer to buy me one of the gorgeous things. Maybe its because I am a woman or maybe because material things don't really mean that much to me, I said no to his offer.

There may be those of you who are screaming at the screen 'You fool!!! You could have had a lovely piece of gorgeousness!!!' But I just could not bring myself to submit to the greed of it all. I have a bag... well, several bags really, of varying ages and qualities and do I need a new one, all be it a dead expensive, posh one? No. The answer is definitely no.

Ah well. At least I can now sleep easy in my bed, safe in the knowledge that I am not as shallow as I first thought.

Do real men wear ski helmets??

Well... I think that the answer to that one, if you have any brains is... yes!! Unfortunately, if you have no brains ( probably due to a ski accident ) you might say no.

Now... the tricky part here is when you ( mum ) wear a ski helmet to ski in, your children wear a ski helmet to ski in.... but your husband doesn't.My husband, lovely, lovely man that he is, has skied for a very long time. When I say that I don't mean that he has been stuck on a chairlift for years, I mean he started skiing at a young ish age.He skis and he skis well. He also skis rather quickly.

When he ( and I come to think of it ) started skiing there just weren't helmets. Of course, your downhill top top skiers wore helmets because they were hurtling down hills at a million miles an hour... but your average Joe did not.My Man is your average Joe skier and he just can't see why he should start wearing a helmet now. Of course he thinks its essential that our boys do - safety first and all that...

So it drives me mad!!!! If for no other reason he should wear one to set an example - shouldn't he?? I know that he probably won't fall over. He probably won't get skied into. But he might... He wouldn't dream of going out on his bike without a helmet.. So what's the difference??

I am sure, that when it comes to our holiday, I will have talked him into wearing one. He will look fab in it and I will love him for wearing it.If you are reading this, my Man ....

Sorry, hun.... but WEAR A HELMET!!! I will look after your dribbling braindamaged body if you have an accident, but I will be very annoyed...