BREAKING THE ROLES

Dividing household chores is an undeniable source of tension but is taking out the rubbish really a ‘boy job’?

Fiona Armstrong finds the division of household labour tricky

Here is a tricky question for you. What is the difference between a wife and a bag of rubbish? Answer: the rubbish gets taken out at least once a week. So goes the slightly tasteless joke inside one of our leftover Christmas crackers (why is there always a leftover cracker?) But household waste is a serious business and this is not a trifling matter. All that packaging, those glass bottles and leftovers can make or break a relationship. Rubbish can sour the atmosphere in a kitchen. And whilst it has crept in slowly, it has been increasingly left to yours truly to take out the trash. Ever since the country’s first gentleman made the announcement on TV that this not-particularly-onerous, but absolutely necessary, task is a ‘boy job’, I have been wondering why I am the one who has to get a grip on garbage. I tell myself that if it is good enough for No.10 Downing Street, it is good enough for the Armstrong-MacGregor abode. So I settle to tackle the chief on the issue. In future he should be the one to deal with the contents of the bin. It is only right and proper; chez nous we have defined roles. But as in all things, when it comes to effecting change, timing is key. It is no good nagging; or bothering a man with domestic detail when he is sitting down to pay bills, trying to find a runaway dog, or dealing with the workmen who have come to replace missing tiles on the roof. So I wait until the MacGregor comes in from a morning in the timber shed.

As you may know, I have been a wood widow for many years. For lumber is a passion and this place in the garden is a firm favourite. There the chief can slice sticks to his heart’s content. He can cut kindling and split logs until the cows come home. Then he can stack it all in nice, neat piles.

To give him his due, the aim is to make sure that baskets are always full to the brim, ready to bring into the house to keep us all warm. And for this, the Mac Naughties and I are truly grateful. He keeps us warm and that is such a plus in Scotland.

But there are more benefits to all the axing and chopping. This vim and vigour generally puts the man of the house in a good mood. Exercise makes him feel buoyed. It also leaves him with very little energy with which to argue or disagree.

Although, to be fair, the MacGregor is an easy-going chap. When I mention the matter, my husband simply smiles and promises that, in future, he will be the one to take out the trash. Because, as the prime minister pointed out all those months ago, there are ‘boy jobs and girl jobs’.

Mine involve cooking, cleaning and laundry. His include wood-chopping, grass-cutting, dogs – and now bins. All is harmonious once more. My heart lifts when some days later I see the kitchen bins have, indeed, been emptied. I also note that the bags of rubbish have got as far as the porch. Where they sit and sit...

It is progress of a sort. I must now wait for him to do another stint in the wood shed before raising the subject again.

‘I have been wondering why I am the one who has to get a grip on garbage’