The announcement that B&Q is closing 60 of its stores in the UK and Ireland over the next two years is not normally the kind of news that makes me sit up and notice. Full confession here: I have literally never, ever changed a plug, or a lightbulb, let alone put up a shelf. Nor do I get a man in to help with such DIY necessities. There is always a lezzer around to oblige, ready and waiting with a tool belt and ill-fitting jeans.

It was obvious B&Q was in trouble when it tried to pull in customers recently by highlighting special offers on duct tape and other bondage paraphernalia off the back of the Fifty Shades nonsense, and that sort of put me off the place.

But the decline of this iconic chain will, without question, have a detrimental effect on lesbian culture. Just a few weeks ago I was having Sunday brunch with my partner Harriet and a straight female friend. As we prepared to leave, Harriet casually mentioned that we were on our way to B&Q to buy paint. The usual drill involves me sitting in the car annoying folk on Twitter, or walking around the booze section in the supermarket next door while Harriet stocks up on WD-40 and such. Anyway, this straight friend was in the car with us before we could say “drill bits” looking almost coquettish at the idea of lezzering it up in such style.

B&Q has almost been like a private members’ club for lesbians. We have long been welcome there, even in the bad old days, because the male assistants were generally impressed that an actual woman could identify a two-by-four, and speak knowledgeably about underlay. Because we tend not to live with men, DIY has become a proud part of our culture. Many men encountering lesbians in DIY stores might wish they had one of them at home so they did not have to exhaust themselves grouting the bathroom when they could be watching the match.

I have recently been researching lesbian divorce for an article, and had planned on doing all of my research in B&Q and Ikea, the butch and femme of lesbian outings. I will now have to get in there quick before the girls migrate to Screwfix.

Many a Sapphic romance has developed in B&Q. Nothing signifies more clearly that the woman in a checked shirt looking at spirit levels on a Sunday morning neither has a man at home, nor indeed wants one. Ikea is not quite as reliable for lesbo spotting because it is a Scandinavian store and at least half of all women in that part of the world look like one of the tribe. Lesbians have long been required to pop in to B&Q twice a year in order to keep our gay membership alive. What will become of us now?