I grew up at a time when there were jobs for the girls and jobs for the boys - there are still jobs for the boys today, especially in politics, but you know what I mean, don't you? - and it would've been unheard of for a man to QWERTY his way across a keyboard.
That was before Germaine Greer and personal computers which turned all of us into typists, if not feminists. If Germaine was the voice of the second-wave feminists, let me be the voice of the third as I've realised that sticking your hands into a kitchen sink full of hot, soapy water on a cold morning is not only beneficial to your hands but also to your mind.
The work in hand, pun intended, is not challenging and requires no concentration, and so allows your mind to drift and ponder and - well, let's use the dreaded word - meditate but before you think of hooded monks, gregorian chants or the Beatles, think of an old geezer standing by the kitchen sink wondering how to get through yet another long day.
