On Saturday night, I’m off to a fancy dress party, in aid of a friend’s 21st birthday.

However, there was a stipulation when it came to costumes. Everyone’s invitation came with a randomly-selected letter, and the rule was that, whatever your costume was, it had to start with that letter. I got H and Craig got I.

After perusing my long, long list of costume ideas (the first of which, rather worryingly, was ‘hooker’), I have chosen ‘Housewife’. Specifically, a 1950s Leave It To Beaver -style housewife, hence why I shall be going out on Saturday night in a cacophony of polka dots, petticoats and (hopefully) curly, bouncy hair. As for Craig’s costume ... well, I’ll leave you in suspense on that one until the pictures emerge. Suffice to say it has something to do with the large cardboard box we were lugging home the other weekend.

In typical fashion, I’ve got completely over the top with these costumes, being a total stickler for detail. So much so that, after I Googled ‘1950s housewife’ for pictures, I started reading the actual web articles. One that was particularly illuminating was the below, taken from an actual home economics manual of the period. What follows is the home environment the wife of 1950 was expected to provide ... and the slightly less picture-postcard environment provided for a normal, English boyfriend in 2008. We’ll call him Craig.

Have dinner ready:
1950 - Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready for your husband. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home, and the prospect of a good meal is part of this warm welcome needed.

2008 – Well, not a bad start, seeing as I actually do enjoy cooking, and often do. However, I usually end up texting the list of ingredients to Craig and imploring him to buy them on the way to my house. Then, he usually ends up doing the washing up.

Prepare yourself:
1950 - Take 15 minutes to rest so that you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your makeup, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people. Be a little gay and a little more interesting. His boring day may need a lift.

2008 – More often than not, Craig arrives at my house to find me clad in pajama bottoms, a gigantic jumper of his I seem to have pilfered, and a towel wrapped around my head.

Clear away the clutter:
1950 - Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives gathering up school books, toys, paper, etc. Then run a dust cloth over the tables. Light a candle. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift, too.

2008 – Nice to see I’m not quite a total failure yet. My house is usually quite tidy, although the floor doesn’t always receive the frequent vacuuming it should probably get. And there’s junk mail all over the hall. And my bathroom could really do with a scrub. Moving swiftly on...

Prepare the children:
1950 - Take a few minutes to wash the children's hands and faces (if they are small), comb their hair, and if necessary, change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part.

2008 – Well, clearly we do not, as yet, have any children. However, I get the feeling that if we did, they’d be most likely in dire need of a haircut, have some manner of foodstuff smeared over their faces, and one would be practising some form of sadistic torture on the other, mostly probably involving their nasal cavities and my fondue forks

Minimise all noise:
1950 - At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer, dishwasher or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet. Better yet, have them in bed.

2008 – As I am currently without flatmate (more on that another day), and don’t generate much noise on my own, it’s pretty peaceful in my house. Unless there’s thumping music/drunk people shouting/mad people shouting/speeding cars from the street outside.

Don’t Complain:
1950 - Don't greet him with problems or complaints or complain if he's late for dinner. Just count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day. Speak in a low, soft soothing and pleasant voice.

2008 – My voice is many things, but low and soft it is not (and people reading this who know me will probably agree, with a shudder). And, alas, poor Craig is the unhappy recipient of whatever ails me at any given time.

Listen to him:
1950 - You may have a dozen things to tell him - the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first.

2008 – Er ....

Make the evening his:
1950 - Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or suggest he lie down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him. Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Never complain if he does not take you out to dinner or to other places of entertainment. Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure, his need to be home and relax.

2008 – Never complain if he doesn’t take me out? Take off his shoes?? Are you insane??

I just wasn’t made for those times.