The Angel in the House

Throughout my late teens and twenties I would have fulminated against Coventry Patmore's poem 'The Angel in the House' as patriarchal sexist gobshite, particularly nonsense such as: Man must be pleased; but him to please/ Is woman's pleasure' My feminism was fairly scattergun, I used to copy huge tracts out of The Female Eunuch and Sexual Personae onto my school file. I was Millie Tant and I was proud.

However, these days I'm not an angry young woman any more. I'd still class myself as a feminist and I get a bit depressed about young women who totally reject the term feminism. I do hope that they know that they deserve equal pay for equal work and that it is more important to be valued for who you are than what you look like.

This weekend I might not have been an Angel in the House, but I have tried to be a good mother. And it's been immensely rewarding. On Saturday I took my son on the train to York and I gave him new experiences: we ate tapas in La Tasca and then went to the Jorvik Viking centre. I do advise my readers that the viking centre smells like a viking city - open latrines and leather tanning and all, and that eating a mound of patatas bravas and tortilla before visiting is somewhat foolhardy. On Sunday I cooked us a traditional Sunday lunch and then we went for a long walk around a lake. This weekend has been very different to recent activities as it didn't involve booze, dancing or bringing the wrong coat home. But it was really rewarding and I enjoyed it. Especially as my son said 'Mummy, I love spending time with you'.

I do believe that women are valuable people who deserve to be judged on far more than their housekeeping and parenting skills. But, sometimes, being a good Mum is its own reward.