A couple of weeks ago, Long-Suffering Husband and I decided to swap our bedroom and study around.

An excellent idea, we thought.

Unfortunately, actually doing it proved rather less appealing.

Every evening, we solemnly promised ourselves that we would tackle the job tomorrow. And every tomorrow arrived with a fresh selection of infinitely more interesting things to do.

Yesterday morning, however, one of the Furry Terrorists decided that his morning constitutional could wait no longer and demanded to be let out at an hour when no civilised creature should reasonably be awake.

Since I was up anyway, I decided to make a start.

Three hours later, I had cleared the study of an astonishing quantity of accumulated junk, washed the walls and cleaned the floors.

Another hour saw the furniture moved into place and the television connected.

Long-Suffering Husband then took over the former bedroom, now the study, and worked his own particular brand of domestic magic.

And I must say, the result is rather lovely.

There is, however, one small problem.

The new bedroom needs curtains.

I have the fabric. I have the sewing machine. I even have every intention of making them.

Unfortunately, the bedroom is now so comfortable that the prospect of getting out of bed to set up the sewing machine strikes me as a thoroughly unreasonable demand.

Which brings me to a thought.

I wonder whether I could teach Long-Suffering Husband to sew?

He has already mastered cooking, cleaning and laundry. Only baking remains unconquered on the domestic front.

Surely a little dressmaking wouldn’t be beyond him?

After all, why stop at the perfect househusband when one could have a fully qualified seamstress as well?