How I love to come home after work to an immaculate clean flat. It’s something very special to open the door and be welcomed by the lovely smell of cleanliness. And it’s a joy to open the wardrobe and see all the ironed clothes hanging on their hangers. Hats off to my cleaner!
I remember when I lived in England and once was filling in a form and one of the questions was about my occupation, there was a tick box for ’housewife’. How very 1950’s.
Housewives are an extinct species in Sweden. I know of one; my grandmother. She just turned ninety, bless her!
I had her job once when I was living in England. I of course held a 9-5 job as well but was expected to wash, clean and cook on my spare time whilst the boyfriend was out playing.
I won’t forget that time when I had forced him to cook dinner for me; he stood in the kitchen, looking very lost and asked me how to cook potatoes. I honestly wanted to punch him there and then, really hard.
Ones before we went to a wedding the hubby asked me to iron his shirt for him, and I of course said no. The lady friend we stayed at gave me a very shocking look. I’m sure she was appalled by my behaviour.
She ironed his shirt.
The Swedish man iron his own shirts, feed himself and takes six months pertinently leave whilst mummy brings in the dole.
Once again welcome to the world of today.
I am not a snob, I am Swedish 