“You don’t appreciate me.”

I must utter these words at least a dozen times a day, directing them at both my husband and children, who are by and large an ungrateful bunch.

All my efforts – cooking, cleaning, taking, collecting and generally running around after them – go unnoticed and I frequently tell them so.

It gets to me sometimes, and I wonder whether I should just up sticks and buy a one-way ticket to Bali. But I’m no sun worshipper and don’t speak the language, so I figured a better idea would be to form my own appreciation society.

There are, after all, appreciation societies for virtually everything. Clouds, cheese, baked beans, you name it, there’s probably a group of people appreciating it.

People appreciate the most bizarre things – roundabouts, traffic cones, coriander, biscuits. I appreciate these things too, in my own way, although I’m guilty of occasionally abusing the mini-roundabout close to my home, but I wouldn’t go so far as to attend meetings and contribute to newsletters on the subject. Or perhaps I would, if I had time.

I certainly appreciate the Apostrophe Appreciation Society. It irks me when I see signs offering Plants’ for Sale or MOT’s £35. Its correct use doesn’t seem to be vital any more, even in school.

And I’m all for the Tea Appreciation Society – how would I get through the day without at least a gallon of it? Speaking of which, there’s a definite need for an Imperial Measurement Appreciation Society for those of us who grew up with pounds and ounces and find it too mentally taxing to convert.

If I wasn’t female, I’d sign up to the Dull Men Appreciation Society that reports on the many appreciation societies which dull men find interesting, such as pork pies, rhubarb, and park benches – all things that are close to my heart.

I’d much rather be seen appreciating a pork pie than Pippa Middleton’s bottom. Yet the world’s most famous sister has 186,000 fans devoted to her rear, through an official appreciation society. Her derriere even has its own Facebook site – what is the world coming to?

I’m expecting at least double that number of followers once my own appreciation society is established. What’s not to appreciate? The silken red hair, cutting-edge dress sense and sparkling wit and repartee. Who needs a great bum when you’ve got all this to fawn over?

My husband scathingly suggested that the dull men might find me interesting. To which I replied: “Well you did,” which shut him up.

Membership, by the way, will cost no more than £10 a day payable to me. I promise to hugely appreciate all those who sign up.