We're not sure whether housework really is better than sex, but there's no doubt it's a great antidote to stress.

HOORAH for housework - it could be better than Valium. And I never thought I'd say that. Being one of nature's sluts - our house is not exactly a threat to public health, but we have a lot of happy spiders - housework is not my favourite pastime.

Yet a new survey reveals that for some women, housework is better than sex, which could make you look at a bottle of Flash in a whole new light. But perhaps. . . no, let's not go there.

However, one of the answers of the survey said that many women like housework because it was therapeutic and made them feel in control of their lives.

Ah. This I recognise.

In times of stress, I turn to housework. The night my husband was rushed into hospital with a suspected heart attack, I couldn't go with him because the boys were just babies. Restless, anxious, I turned to housework. So much more useful than pacing the floor.

At 3am, I cleaned the oven, washed the walls, scrubbed the kitchen floor. I used an old toothbrush to get the dirt out of the bit between the carpet and the skirting board. Then I used the same toothbrush to scrub the top of the skirting board. The kitchen had never been so clean before or since.

And as dawn was breaking I surveyed the sparkling scene and, much calmer, rang the hospital to see how the patient was doing.

When you're chewed up with anxiety, housework is the perfect outlet for your energy. Absolutely brainless but with something to show for it at the end, plus a rosy glow of virtue. In times of crisis, life might be going into free fall, but at least you can have a spotless sitting room, a brilliant bathroom and feel there is order in the chaos.

Fortunately, life has been fairly uneventful recently, which is why our house is its usual cheerful scruffy self.

Which, on balance, is probably best all round.

PREGNANT women need to drink more milk or they could stunt the growth of their babies, says a study in a Canadian medical journal.

I hate milk and couldn't even make myself drink it when pregnant. But after attending council meetings, reporters would often eat in the canteen at County Hall in Northallerton, where I discovered the delights of milky custard. So much so, that in the end, as soon as the wonderful canteen staff saw me waddling in, they would dish up huge soup basins brim full of the stuff, which I happily devoured. Senior Son was two foot long when born and is now 6ft 5ins. Amazing what county council custard can achieve.