.ltA man about the house

The Times,
28 April 1950: editorial

There was a time, our elders assure us, when man was the respected head of the house. Silence reigned in his presence and none dared to disturb him without permission. His word was law. His order was obeyed without question and without delay. No important decision was made till he gave assent. Meals were served when he was ready; no sooner, no later. But social progress, as the humorists call it, has changed all that. Man's status has shrunk as rapidly as his domestic labours have grown. He has become cook and kitchenmaid, gardener and nurse, laundryman and interior decorator. If by some happy chance, he is able to snatch a moment's rest, it is an exhausted Jack-of-all-trades who sinks into the seat once so proudly filled by his sires.

It is, of course, no coincidence that the tasks thrust upon him have become infinitely more difficult and exacting than they were a generation ago. Consider shopping for example. Before the war a list was given to the grocer and within an hour or so the articles were delivered, fresh and neatly packed. Those were the bad old days. Now the list is handed to the husband and he is cast adrift on the stormy sea of humanity that ebbs and flows through the shop doors. There the waves of what were once female forms will pound him against the rocks of baskets and elbows, thrust him this way and that, displace him from his rightful position while someone asks in a voice ringing with scorn, "Are you in this queue, Sir?" If his patience lasts and if, as so rarely happens, he is in the right queue, he must undergo a gruelling examination on varieties and brands of which he knows little, and on points and periods, of which he knows less. Conjuring with change, ration books, parcels, hat, pipe, pouch, and other essentials, he may then take his place in the line at the bus stop to face the disapproval of his wife.

Yet shopping is only one of the many trials man now has to face. The tyranny of soap and water is no less burdensome. Few will deny that occasionally a man should help with the washing; but the handicap under which he works is not fully appreciated by the opposite sex. Whenever a man puts his hands in water, he is dogged by the demons of the washtub. They make the water so hot that it scalds, or so cold that it chills; they fling suds on his flannels or on the newly distempered kitchen wall. Nor is that all. It is notorious that in a man's hand a broom is immediately bewitched into a weapon of destruction; a peeler is sharp on his fingers and blunt on the potato; a needle jabs his flesh as surely as it refuses to enter the eye of the button. Even the children, if they are left in his care, immediately develop some troublesome complaint, if indeed, they are not completely lost; and disillusion, or worse, awaits the man who hopes his misfortunes will bring him relief. Women are relentless task-masters. Like Blake, they believe that a fool must persist in his folly to become wise.
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.llFamily: Fathers
Women's lib: British lib
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WR09:WR09_03S
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