There's something very satisfying about the phrase 'I don't know how you do it.' Someone said this to me yesterday, as they munched on my homemade bread and accepted my comments on their (very good) piece of writing. The implication, obviously, is that I am superwoman. I clean cook, entertain guests, turn out acceptable pieces of journalism, and exercise regularly. In short, I am female.
Of course the temptation is very much to blush prettily and say 'oh, goodness, it's nothing really...' But oh modesty, thy name surely is woman - and anyway on this occasion, I grinned and took the praise. Because I thought it might be quite good for my psyche to agree with her.