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I am not nearly as obsessive about ironing as I am about doing the laundry itself. Even so, I prefer to finish the day\u2019s 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.<\/p>\n
Ironing is also one of the very few activities during which I can completely switch my brain off \u2013 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.<\/p>\n
There are limits, however, to my domestic diligence. When the ironing becomes too overwhelming \u2013 for instance, after returning from an overseas trip with a week\u2019s worth of laundry \u2013 I happily leave the task to the weekly cleaning lady to set things right.<\/p>\n
These early irons used heated charcoal placed inside a bronze or iron container with a flat base. The heated base was then passed over cloth to remove wrinkles and shape garments. The classic Chinese iron resembled a shallow pan or ladle with a long handle and was known in ancient texts as the huodou<\/em> (\u201cfire ladle\u201d) or jindou<\/em> (\u201cmetal ladle\u201d).<\/p>\n