Laugh? I creased up.
But then my brain started ticking over and I thought to myself - now there's a gauntlet I'm going to pick up. I'm going to write a random blog about ironing.
So here it is. Hot off the press.
You'd be hard pressed to find someone who actually enjoys this tedious chore – but can I shock you?
I like ironing.
Not to the extent that I would open my own parlour, or turn my nose up if someone offered to take a pile off my hands, but I do find it quite therapeutic – which may or may not strike you as being a bit weird. Much like it's cousin, vacuuming (no we don't call it hoovering as Hoover is a brand name) I find such tasks give me a mediocre sense of fulfilment.
It's not something I do for pleasure (like writing or watching TV) but if I had a list of household chores then ironing would be chosen over cleaning the toilet or plucking hairs from the bath plug hole. Saying that, I seldom spend much time ironing piles of clothes - I tend to just iron what's needed for the day. Even if I'm loafing around the house I like to loaf in a freshly pressed t-shirt. I like the warmth it generates when you first put it on - and the satisfaction that I've pressed it myself.
Yes, I'm slow at it, but what does that matter? If I was being paid ten pence per garment then I might up my game a little - but as I'm just ironing for personal use there's really no need to work at full steam.
Here's me at work:
Now if you'll excuse me, I have more pressing matters to attend to...