I once lived in a block of flats where the free-holder and his boyfriend had a novel approach to negotiating cleaning chores. They employed a gorgeous house-boy who entertained the rest of us by vacuuming the communal areas in skimpy underwear. I mention this because I’ve noticed that cracks often start to show in co-habiting relationships when lust-induced myopia fades and tedious domestic reality hits. I sometimes wonder if Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera had the right idea. Separate houses joined by a bridge, with lockable doors at either end. I did a research project recently (possibly not up to Gallup standards) involving asking women, cohabiting with male partners in Lewes, about toilet-roll. Trivial? Yes. But it’s small stuff that causes rows. Thinking-ahead issues, like who changes the loo-roll. My results were clear. Almost always, women do. Men leave an empty roll, or a roll with one piece left so they can pretend they didn’t finish it, or at best they ‘replace’ the empty roll by putting a new one on top of the holder (rather than in it). In defence of men, women have bought and tolerated stupidly complicated toilet-roll holders for years that men had the sense to refuse to engage with. But you can buy much simpler holders now, which are basically just sticks, and men ignore these too. My results were skewed a little by a Teutonic friend, who told me only rich people use toilet-roll holders in Austria, everyone else just piles rolls on the floor. But in line with my other findings, she told me her English partner never throws the empty roll away. So for a happy International Women’s Day, heed my advice. Get a house-boy.