IT has finally got to me. Me, a woman renowned for never doing a scrap of housework.

A woman who would not know what to do with a duster.

A woman who only cleans anything when the well-being of the children are at stake.

Me, a cleaning-phobic. Me, who will argue 'till the cows come home over the widely-held notion that 'housework is the new sex'.

Me, who rarely visits the 'household goods' aisle at the local supermarket.

The unthinkable has happened: I have been seduced by into making a fresh start, into ridding the house of those dust-coated shelves, into freeing the kitchen floor of grease and cat munch, into eliminating anything that lingers for more than a day on the floor of my children's bedroom.

And the reason is - I'm embarrassed to say - reality TV.

It's that programme 'How Clean Is Your House?'

It really has got to me. At first I thought well, it's just like every other 'House Doctor-style programme, a bit of voyeurism at the expense of others

But, no. There I was, sitting in front of the telly, watching how a couple of women (one looks remarkably like Auntie Mabel from the children's TV show 'Come Outside') cleaned homes far worse than mine (I do clean the grill pan more than once a year).

And, as they doled out tip after tip, I was thinking: "Gosh, that's good," "Gosh, that's amazing."

Along with countless others - I know I'm not the only one - I've been well and truly sucked in.

Already I've cleaned the limescale deposits off our taps using vinegar and I've sealed troublesome packets of rice

and cat food with clothes pegs.

I've used bicarbonate of soda to clean the fridge - which was becoming a contender for another fly-on-the wall-programme, Life of Grime - and I've used an old sock to dust along high book shelves.

The worst of it is I've really enjoyed it.

I decide which room I'm going to tackle, and I can't wait until the children go to school so I can start.

But there's a part of me - the part that's reluctant to part with the down-at-heel student life I once loved - that is resisting.

I really want one of those special baskets that you carry around the house loaded up with all the cleaning equipment you are likely to need for every room.

Ialso harbour a longing for an apron and some rubber gloves, a special kneeling mat for scrubbing floors and an extendable feather duster.

Since watching the programme I would like all these things.

But when I strode out to buy them I heard a little voice inside my head saying: "No, Helen, this is not what you are about.

"You are a slob, you are untidy, you are content to live with dust and grubby windows."

A friend added to the argument with the words: "Helen you wouldn't be you with a squeaky-clean house."

And do you know she's right. I must have been out of my mind. I even cleaned the cat flap. I'm stopping before it gets out of control.

Thankfully, I don't need any tips at all to get the house back to its original state.