Polygamy: not such a bad idea after all?

Last week I caught a little glimpse of a different existence. For a single day I saw how life might have looked through the eyes of a married man in the fifties or sixties. Even without any of Mad Men's glamour it looked pretty jolly dazzling.

There was something rather pleasant about arriving home from work to a spouse who had spent the day cooking, cleaning, doing the groceries and caring for Miss I. All I needed was a whiskey poured, a cigarette lit and I was right there in the midst of sixties-style paradise. Well, except for the fact I don't drink whiskey or smoke. But perhaps I'd take them both up if at the end of a working day that was all that was left to do.

Truthfully it made me see some merit in the old-fashioned domestic arrangements. Unenlightened as it sounds, it made me want a wife. Of sorts. Not because I want to shackle any gender with a disproportionate share of familial responsibilities or deprive any individual of economic independence. But because as far as logistics go, the stereotypical wife strikes me as unbelievably useful. There's a lot to be done in the running of a household, even in a small apartment. It really does warrant fulltime attention.

This dawned on me a few months ago when I became engrossed in Downton Abbey, a television series set in a large English estate in 1912. It opened my eyes to a world far beyond the reality of anyone I've ever met. They have staff to do everything. To wash, iron and prepare wardrobes. To dress and groom. To clean, polish and dust. To plan meals, stock cupboards and arrange dinner parties. There are cleaners, footmen, drivers, assistant footmen, a butler, a seamstress.

The twenty or so employees ensure every tiny domestic cog is perfectly oiled so the family can get on with the important and apparently busy business of being incredibly rich. Which funnily enough takes up quite a bit of time.

Obviously none of us has a household that grand* but what needs to be done in a day hasn't changed all that much. We might not sit down for three-course meals or after-dinner tipples in the drawing room and we might not need staff to polish the non-existent silverware. But the big ticket tasks are the same.

We still get dressed, buy food, go to work, feed our families, clean the house, wash clothes, iron, bathe children, cook meals, clean up after meals, shop, pay bills, book appointments, drive to appointments, arrange social engagements, attend social engagements. Spending a good part of the day working outside the home compounds this. And then we wake up and do it all again. The difference is, rather than having a (valued, respected, well-paid and well-oiled) team to help, we do it alone. It made me think perhaps we've downsized too far. And upsized our expectations for what can be done in 24 hours, exponentially.

So I wish Mr G and I had a wife. Or could afford a housekeeper. Obviously the latter's completely out of the budget, so I'm wondering whether we need to recruit an additional member to our marriage. A hardworking individual with a penchant for housekeeping, grocery shopping, pantry-stocking, meal preparation and household administration. I think we could both get used to arriving home to domestic order and goodness knows how much we would value their contribution. Any takers?

*If by chance you do have a household as grand as Downton Abbey can I please come and visit? It'll just be me, my husband and our loud and adorable daughter. (And possibly an incredibly efficient, kind and productive person we're hoping to recruit to our marriage. It could be an excellent training opportunity.)