Last week I pressed ‘send’ to an email, before immediately regretting it as I walked into my kitchen. I’d just arranged a meeting with someone who’d never been to my house and my messy kitchen didn’t strike me as visitor friendly, writes Tric Kearney

Marie Kondo takes to our television screens to get our homes in order — but can she really emancipate us from mess, asks Carol O’Callaghan.

I am Marie Kondoing my life, says Suzanne Harrington. Not because I’m a neat freak with time on my hands, but because the house, despite being made of elastic, is bursting. Too many people, not enough space.

Joy points upward, according to Marie Kondo, whose name is now a verb and whose nickname is being trademarked and whose life has become a philosophy.