The results of a study published in Time magazine found that mindful washing-up can lower stress levels. Photo / iStock
A few months ago, when our dishwasher gave up the ghost, I was determined to put a positive spin on it.
"I'll wash up by hand from now on," I announced to my incredulous husband. "It will give me precious time to think."
This sounds nuts, I know. Who in their right mind would turn their back on one of the most life-changing of modern inventions?
The very machine that helped us throw off the domestic chains that anchored us to the kitchen sink to get educated, climb the greasy pole, smash the glass ceiling, want it all, have it all - or whatever else we're meant to have been doing in the decades since the first electric model was introduced in 1913.
But isn't it funny how everything goes full circle? Even cleaning the dishes. For, believe it or not, there's now a quiet army of women who are actually choosing to do the washing up by hand because (drum roll) they find it hugely therapeutic.
'Mindful' washing-up, as it's been dubbed by this virtuous crowd, is all about transforming what is surely one of the most burdensome of daily chores into an almost spiritual-like ritual.
By focusing solely on the task in hand - this, in therapy speak, is what doing a task 'mindfully' means - you can give your brain a break from the frenetic pace of the day.
There's even some science to prove it works. The results of a study recently published in Time magazine found that mindful washing-up can lower stress levels and increase an overall sense of wellbeing.
But, explains convert Jessica Davidson, a musician and sound engineer who now writes about mindfulness, there are strict rules to follow.
To fully appreciate the therapeutic powers of the kitchen sink, total silence is best, so no TV or radio.
Then, once the sink is filled with warm soapy water, it's all about luxuriating in the suds as you slowly scrub each item, sensing the feel of the warm water on your hands, noticing the play of light on the water.
Yup, 21st-century washing-up really has gone woo-woo.
All the while you are doing this, you must banish any unwelcome, stressed-out thoughts and keep concentrating on the task in hand. Relax your shoulders and breathe deeply.
Do all this, and you can turn any humdrum chore into a "pocket of peace", says Rachel Kelly, who wrote her new book, Walking On Sunshine: 52 Small Steps To Happiness, after recovering from depression.
Well, it sounds like the barmiest way to find your inner karma that I've ever heard but, for someone who hasn't been to a spa in years, I thought it was at least worth a try.
Perhaps it was the novelty value (having followed my mother's strict advice on how to survive marriage, I've always insisted on a dishwasher) but, at first, I'm only too happy to roll up my sleeves, pull on the Marigolds and get stuck in.
Usually, I whizz around the kitchen like a whirlwind, emptying the dishwasher from breakfast and then reloading with the next lot of dirties.
But faced with a stack of food-smeared plates, bowls and cutlery, I find myself rooted to the spot for 20 minutes after each meal.
When you think about it, washing-up is a simple task with instant, gratifying results. You take a dirty plate, scrub it and then it's all sparkly and clean.
What is far more irksome (and very quickly a source of marital tension) is drying it all and putting it away.
Meanwhile, perhaps tellingly, my three daughters are quick to hone in to the fact they've got me cornered. With no phone to distract me, my eldest daughter Amelia, 13, is the first to sidle over for a chat after a late Saturday breakfast.
She rolls her eyes when I throw her a tea towel, but then we stand there washing and drying, happily chatting about her school work.
Maybe my mindful washing up will enrich the entire family. I feel less zen, though, the first Monday morning when my youngest, 5-year-old Martha, pulls up a chair after breakfast and offers to "help" as I'm frantically looking at the clock and wondering how we will ever get off to school on time.
Within seconds, she is elbow deep in bubbles - and most of the water is on the floor.
Two weeks in, the battle lines are being drawn after every meal. For much as I would like to revel in the soap suds, there's just too much to do.
Yet whenever I wearily ask: "Who's turn is it to help me wash up?" all eyes look down. Especially my husband's. My mother was right: marriage without a dishwasher is incendiary.
Tom is infuriated by me "leaving things to soak", and I hate the fact that when it's his turn, he washes up as fast as he can and piles everything on the draining board in a precarious tower for me to put away.
The biggest test, though, comes when we host a dinner party for 10. As the night draws near, I feel such dread at the carnage we'll face afterwards, I even briefly consider paper plates.
"Don't be ridiculous," Tom says. "You'll just have to do it after they've all left. It was your idea not to replace the dishwasher."
I have a far more cunning plan - to make it a communal therapy session. But my friends aren't so impressed. "What a nightmare," exclaims one city-living pal as she half-heartedly swills warm water around in a dirty wine glass. "I couldn't live without my dishwasher."
The very next day, I decide my experiment has come to an end and splash out on a new dishwasher. And not just any old model, a top-notch Miele that's capacious enough to fit pots, pans, whisks - the lot.
On the day it arrives, I almost hug the delivery man I'm so relieved. There's a stack of dirty plates waiting, and once I've loaded it, I luxuriate in the soft purr of the machine.
My final word on the subject? After four months of "mindful" washing up, here's my recommended kitchen therapy: load the dishwasher, paying attention to how the dirty plates and bowls stack neatly in the bottom shelf; relax your shoulders as you slide dirty knives into the cutlery basket; breathe deeply once you've seen the back of that grease-smeared frying pan that you left to soak a few days ago.
Shut the door, switch it on - only then will you feel like a new woman.
- Daily Mail