A couple of months ago a friend noticed the state of my kitchen floor and decided to stage an intervention. I could see her point although, in my defence, I do have two teenagers and a large dog. My friend gifted me a matching robotic mop and vacuum cleaner, programmed to manoeuvre around a room, cleaning as they go.

When the boxes arrived, I recoiled at the sight of the iRobot logo. I’m slow at figuring out new tech and was worried the devices might spy on me, hoovering up data along with the dog hairs. But the instructions were simple, and I eventually decided that I didn’t really care if someone was studying the secrets of my kitchen floor.

I switched on the two robots, watched them roll out of their docks to explore the room, and quickly fell in love with my newly sparkling floors. I kept doing demos for all my guests. “I think you care more about the robo-mop than us,” one of my teens joked. “They’re like your new children.”