It is an accepted fact of the aging process that, as we put away childish things, what we dream of tends to take on a distinctly more domestic flavour. How many of us would have declared our deep longing for a utility room in our twenties? And yet, a handful of years on, who wouldn’t harbour such reveries of somewhere to order and store the stuff of everyday life? Perfect ironing boards and serious brushes; proper laundry baskets and enamel tins for the stashing of pegs and the like: these are the stuff of which homely heaven is made.