What really happened when my wife left me in charge

I’m currently standing at the top of Brownie Point Mountain, having spent the past two weeks looking after our three sons while Caroline has been sunning herself in Barbados. I’ve been cooking, cleaning, washing – you name it. As if that weren’t heroic enough, I spent the previous week with our 18-year-old daughter in Mexico City helping her find a flat and a job. In other words, I’ve had no help from Caroline for three straight weeks. I feel so virtuous, I’m almost tempted to throw myself off said mountain. A place in heaven would be guaranteed.

I daresay some women reading this will be thinking: ‘Why should you get any points for doing what your wife has been doing for almost 20 years? Typical bloody man.’ But Caroline hasn’t been operating as a single parent, even if she complains that it feels like that sometimes. Domestic drudgery in our household is divided into ‘blue’ and ‘pink’ jobs, with me being responsible for doing the rubbish, loading and emptying the dishwasher, hanging up the dirty towels, turning off all the lights, locking up and making sure the mortgage, utility bills and council tax are paid on time. And before you conclude that Caroline has to deal with absolutely everything else, which would be unfair, we have a cleaner who comes twice a week. OK, OK, she still does more than me, but I bring in the lion’s share of the household income so that’s a fair trade.

The reason my wife was in Barbados is because one of her best friends is a professional tennis coach and every year she’s invited to spend two weeks in a swanky resort with room and board taken care of in exchange for running a tennis clinic for two hours a day. Incredibly, she’s allowed to take a friend and this year she chose Caroline.