Bra unburnt

Mrs Trellis ventures into European politics:
Dear Herr Merkel, she writes, it must be galling for you to have to make your own supper and iron your own shirts etc while your wife messes about running Germany.
The late Mr Trellis made it perfectly clear that HE was the breadwinner and my job was to create a home for him and the children (not that we had any children). I did flirt briefly with Women's Lib, but they met on Tuesdays which clashed with my pottery classes, so Mr T was spared any of that trauma, and I was spared the inconvenience of burning my brassieres, if you will pardon the impropriety.
My advice to you, Your Herr, is to get Mrs M back to what we Primitive Methodists call "family values", ie, being there of an evening to sauer your kraut, etc, when you come home exhausted from whatever you do. It's better than having her out in the street burning her lingerie, squatting naked and bringing the country to its knees in the process.
Yours mit Verstaendnis
Blodwen Trellis, Mrs, Widow, unreconstructed.