In reply to Kirsty Allsopp has come out with some daft things over the years, but I have a confession to make – I agree with her over the “ironing” thing.

The other half of the “Location, Location, Location” duo says she enjoys doing the ironing and finds it “therapeutic.”

I actually love ironing. When my hubby worked he needed an ironed shirt every day. When he retired and now runs the farm, ironing Polo shirts doesn’t quite give the same satisfaction of getting the collar just so and the creases down the sleeves razor-edged.

My mother taught me how to iron shirts, she was very particular. No creases along the shoulders and it stood me in good stead. I can spot a badly turned out shirt at 100 paces.

I am sad as I even iron pillow cases and tea towels. I draw the line at socks and knickers though.

There is something about gliding a hot iron over creased cotton and seeing it transformed into a lovely flat piece of material.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not a housework fiend – I hate hoovering (I now have all wooden floors which I sweep like Cinderella!) and cleaning windows gives me a headache. I am afraid I am not my mother’s daughter when it comes to chores. She was obsessive and cushions had to be removed before you were allowed to sit on the settee.

Dust just seems to make a quick return after I have had the duster out and life is too short to polish the granite worktops on a daily basis. So my maxim is: “it will be there after I am gone.”

But I do like a nicely ironed blouse!