We love our men but there is a time and place for them

Men are great… but you can have too much of a good thing and having them at home alone with you all day can drive you nuts.

If he’s made redundant or retires, suddenly your routine changes big time.

Now, social scientists from Padua University have carried out extensive research and given it

a name retired husband syndrome.

They found that when men give up work, 47% of the women they interviewed complained of increasing levels of stress.

I wish those researchers had given me a call. I’d have asked if men on sofas are programmed to be in charge of the TV controller? And if they need to flick from channel to channel searching for sport or the workings of railways in remote regions of India?

I’d also beg the question: why do men watch endless DIY programmes, buy expensive tools and yet you ask them to fix something that’s come loose and you get a blank stare?

Case in point. My friend next door finally lost it and attacked the woodchip on her bedroom walls with a scraper after asking her hubby to redecorate for ages and finding that, strangely, her request fell on deaf ears.

Then there are bathrooms. The time spent in there shaving very slowly. Coughing loudly in the morning. Contemplating.

If you go food shopping together, they interrupt your train of thought. You’re at the meat counter and see braised steak is on special offer. You put it in the trolley but realise if you’re making a stew you’ll need carrots and onions so you dash three aisles back to the veg counter.

“Couldn’t you have bought them when we walked past them?” says Mr Hubby. “Like I knew braised steak was on special offer?” you hiss through gritted teeth.

Phones are another issue. They don’t like answering them but object to you spending an hour talking to your friend.

Screws, loose change and old paper hankies are often left on male bedside cabinets for strangely long amounts of time.

Yet they have some weird objection to you taking their shabbiest clothes to a charity shop.

My first boss at the SP was incensed when he found his favourite jacket wasn’t in the wardrobe. He tracked it down to the local Oxfam shop, bought it back for a fiver and wore it to annoy his long-suffering wife.

Salad is a difficulty too, I find. They moan if you serve it up too often.

An excess of visiting relatives is also problematical. Anything that disturbs the hallowed ‘peace and quiet’ doesn’t go down well.

And money the spending of it is an issue. Why can men lust after a £20,000 car but you can’t blow £50 on a dress you covet and the bag and shoes to match? They also fail to understand why they can get a haircut for 20 quid and you might need three times that for a cut and colour.

Don’t even mention Christmas. It’s easy when men are out of the house because you can sneak in all the prezzies for the children and grandchildren and take the flak when the bills arrive in January.

But men underfoot all day notice too much.

We love them dearly. We wouldn’t be without them. But the only answer to retired hubby syndrome lies in the words of the poet Kahil Gibran: “Let there be spaces in your togetherness.”

That way lies male/female harmony.