2010:365:28 Dashing away with the smoothing iron

According to the song it was on the Thursday when "my darling" was "A-ironing of her linen..."  
She ran a well-ordered house in Somerset during the nineteenth century (if the song is to be believed).


Monday - the washing.  
Tuesday - hanging it out. 
Wednesday - starching.  
Thursday - ironing. 
Friday - folding. 
Saturday - airing. 
Sunday - wearing.

A whole week to do what sometimes I do in a day! Though these days there isn't much starching done ... perhaps a light starch for a surplice ... or a linen tablecloth/napkins ... but not much else.

There is, I grant you, a certain satisfaction in taking the crumpled pieces and watching the magic of steam and heat transform them into a carefully ironed and useful items.  In addition, the smell of fresh laundry fills the house and evokes memories too numerous to list.  And of course there is always the permitted boasting about the pile of washing that you've stored away in the hot press.

But I have to confess that it isn't my favourite task, which is why I'm writing about it rather than doing it!  Even as I type the scene in the photograph has changed only in what's on the television screen.  The shirt (for tomorrow) is waiting for a hanger, the iron has automatically switched itself off and here I am, procrastinating.

O God, our teacher and our judge: 
Enrich our hearts with the goodness of your wisdom 
and renew us from within; 
that all our actions, all our thoughts and all our words 
may bear the fruit of your transforming grace; 
through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen. 

The Collect of the Sunday before Lent 
Book of Common Prayer.