Picture the scene
The Meep household, 8pm on a Wednesday evening.
We’ve just eaten a lovely mushroom risotto with purple sprouting broccoli on the side (all organic, of course). We’re having a bit of Green and Blacks to accompany our after-dinner cup of Fair Trade coffee.
We flick through that day’s Guardian, while Radio 4 chatters on in the background. The cat and dog chase each other around the shabby chic coffee table.
It is a scene of clichéd, urban, middle-class, nouveau hippie, domestic bliss.
In the kitchen, the Mooncup is boiling in a pan of water on the hob.
(Sorry, that’s officially the last mention of the Mooncup. Promise).