My iron broke. It had been leaking through the sole plate for some time but when drips turned into pools of water it was time to do something.
Inspired by The Repair Shop on the telly I decided to have it repaired. I would take it to a kindly man working in a picturesque barn. He would coax a sad story out of me; I’d go back to collect it, be amazed at the transformation, and cry at the memories it evoked. I searched for someone who could do this.
The man I rang up had obviously not been watching the same programme. He laughed at me down the phone. “Nah love, you don’t repair them now – it’d cost too much. Chuck it! You can get a new one for 9 quid.” I felt simultaneously a cheapskate and a thwarted eco-warrior. The vision of the eco-warrier won. I pictured myself, fighting against the odds to save the limited resources of the planet. I can barely wire a plug but in my mind I was Wonder Woman, iron held aloft, ready to do battle with a throw-away society.
Need prevailed. I admitted defeat. I bought another, not for nine, but for sixteen pounds. Being without an iron had made me uneasy and the surge of relief I felt when I handed over my £16 was a bit like that of a junkie after a fix because – I have to admit it – I really like ironing. I know this is on a par to enjoying scrubbing floors, but I can’t help it.
A post-modern 21st century woman should laugh in the face of an ironing board; I don’t. I’m happy when I see a pile of washed bedding ready to be pressed. I know I’m odd, that most people hate ironing, and the generation below mine often don’t do it at all. My grandson saw my ironing board when he was 5. “What’s that, Granny?” he asked.
Perhaps my descendants will look back on me with pity and think of ironing as a chore equivalent to black-leading stoves. They don’t know the joy a steam iron can bring!
Inspired by my love of ironing I wrote Positive Ironing, a story published in The People’s Friend magazine. You can read it on my website: roseydarbishire.com
