After 14 years of matrimony it is beginning to dawn on me that I'm a bad wife. I've done the childbirth thing - very enthusiastically, four times - and I think I'm okay at mothering. I don't shrink at getting up in the night to sort out a wet bed, I can knock out a Little Woolly Lamb fancy-dress outfit with five minutes' notice and I can do a mean school project on whatever subject necessary.
I'm a passable adult, too: a lovely dinner party guest, a loyal friend, daughter, sister. But as far as doting wife goes, I think I lack form.