MAN OF IRON

Yesterday was very traumatic.

We’d bought some ready made curtains and I’d put up the curtain poles.

The curtains needed ironing.

It took 2 hours to find the ironing board – Lo, she is a terrible Goddess is averse to the craft and nothing has been pressed for several years, so when we moved we paid no attention to where the removal men put it. It was eventually found in the garage behind the rowing machine and our spare Van de Graff generator. The iron, on the other hand was strangely found quite quickly. (I like to keep something heavy but manageable handy. For various reasons. Lo,TG Ed.) In fact we’ve got two, one being a family heirloom. (It was left to me by my mother…………….. the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Lo,TG ED)

Everything was organised and I took up a strategic position to watch unobserved. It’s a bit like surveying the whole process of child birth. Moments of calm and humming followed by cries of fury. Impatience, obvious pain and dreadful curses. I heard ‘poo’, ‘bum’ and ‘knickers’ along with invocations that probably haven’t been heard on this earth for millennia.

I’ve learnt from past experience to keep a VERY low profile during these rare moments of madness.

All was completed successfully however and whilst the TG was recovering on the sofa having had a calming cup of tea and a back massage, I hung them up and, by jingo, they look grand.
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