I am not nearly as obsessive about ironing as I am about doing the laundry itself. Even so, I prefer to finish the day’s ironing rather than allow unironed clothes to accumulate over several days or, as some people I know seem perfectly content to do, an entire week. A towering pile of wrinkled shirts and trousers gives me mild anxiety.
Ironing is also one of the very few activities during which I can completely switch my brain off – something I regard as a rare luxury. I put on some music and, through a series of practised manoeuvres, watch the creases magically melt away beneath the iron. Occasional observers have noted that I even subconsciously dance a little jig at the ironing board, keeping time with the music as I work.
