Ironing (ROCK!)

Tonight, me, the iron, some not-flat-enough clothes, and some cricket highlights, got together and PARTIED! *

(* Actual amount of parting was none, I was naffing ironing)

I haven't done any ironing for a while, so I volunteered.

I even insisted a little, I was blind drunk.

I'll do the ironing if you like!

Really? If you don't mind?

No I don't mind, it's been...

<Mrs. Amazing runs>

I'd like to point out that none of the tiny enormous tub of laundry, is mine.

I do not wear shirts or suits to work and ironing spandex never goes well.

Maybe there's the odd shirt in there that's mine. But it's rare.

WEIRD!!! You're wearing a shirt?

I wear shirts! <Mild indignation>

See <Spins to show off shirt>

I have loads of shirts

How many?

Oh loads… <Stalls>

Last count was...

Probably…  about... er.... 3

<Looks for confirmation from Mrs. Amazing>

<Mrs. Amazing shields face with hand and edges out of the room>

(Iron Man… Just like me… Except I've an iron)

Anyway ironing, HELL YEAH!

I start easy. Pillow cases.

A bit of me doesn't want to do pillowcases because it's a bit stupid. They are just going to go under my head as I pass out sleep. But Mrs. Amazing likes them looking nice and I find them a good ironing warm-up.

Oooo a wicket!

<Rewinds>

Next in the small pile of mountainous ironing are some of BabyBoy1's clothes.

BabyBoy1’s clothes are like those scratch and sniff cards, or stickers, that Boy8 gets. You know the one’s? You scratch then and they always smell horrible. And weirdly he always gets them from the library for reading. (Why?)

BabyBoy1’s first top smells of… <Builds tension>…  food.

Ahhh blitzed roast dinner. Nice.

Second smells of milk, fair enough, it's a bib.

Third.... Ewww! REJECT!!!

<Throws clothing into laundry for round two>

<Goes and picks up clothing that missed laundry bin by miles>

Next is Miss4's clothing.

Mrs. Amazing points out that these need name labels ironed in too.

Can't you do it?

'I spent all of last night ironing in name labels'

So you're the house expert?

And now you love doing it?

'You do it' <Slight iron-madness in voice>

OK

How?

I find the labels, I manage to iron the right type on this time, and Miss4's white tops, with frilly collars are done. Result.

Next is her new school skirt.

It's pretty. It's grey, but it's pretty. Because it has, and I believe this is the technical term, pleats. Big pleats.

I am 30Lots and in all that time, I have never, ever, owned any clothing that has, or ever had, pleats. How smeg do you iron these smeggers?

However it's not a problem as they are new and don't need ironing (YES).

I suppose I could ask Mrs. Amazing to show me how, and learn a new skill right here and now, but… you know…

WICKET!

Miss4’s skirt though makes me stop and think.

My little girl is getting bigger is starting to wear clothes that emphasise her femininity.

I imagine how life may be in 12 years time...

Miss18: ‘Ol’ man’

Yes princess

‘I need money’

<Hands over £50>

‘I need money enough to get drunk

<Hands over another £50>

So me and Shazneenian-may can score with boys

<Takes back all the money>

<Mrs. Amazing ‘nods’ me to hand over more>

<Empties wallet>

<Weeps>

(That should be enough for a Mars bar...)

Urgh!!! Why do I do this to myself.

I am sure she'll be a good, studious, sensible, girl, that doesn't spend all her time trying to ‘get’ with boys in the Monastery I will lock her in.

Boy8's clothes now.

His clothes have kevlar weaved into their fabric. It makes them strong enough to withstand all his playing and perpetual knee slides. Why so many knee slides? No one knows.

I pick them up and for the first time ever I notice these are not the slightly comedic trousers that little boys wear. You know the trousers that are really shorts, or the trousers that look like they've come off a doll.

No Boy8’s trousers, look like men’s trousers. He is getting bigger.

I iron my little MAN’s trousers and then it comes to my moment to shine.

This is the bit of ironing I can do well.

<Whispers really, really quietly> Better than Mrs. Amazing

I fold the trousers.

Hell yeah. I fold them good.

I fold them like they are suit trousers, which is something I know how to do, because I wear suits. And another man showed me how to years ago.

Mrs. Amazing pretty much has the monopoly on clothing knowledge in the house, except when it comes to suits. That’s my tiny bit of skill/knowledge.

I’ll show Boy8 how to fold trousers when he’s a bit bigger. I’ll show BabyBoy1 in years to come. And they’re show there kids. Ahhhh the circle of suit life. 

WICKET!

Trousers folded, to suit standards, I smugly continue ironing and grab the next item in the basket.

It’s one of Mrs. Amazing’s dresses.

It’s complex.

There is no actual way to lay it flat to iron it. Bits of it, I think, shouldn't be ironed and should look creased, other bits need to be flatter.

I've no idea what fabric it’s made of either. It could be made of goats cheese for all I know (it is not).

It is utterly impossible.

I recently had two washing failures, in a day. BabyBoy1 is sporting some lovely pink baby grows and one of Mrs. Amazing’s dresses is less white. It didn't go down well.

(... Hmm… I’ll just put the iron on mega-heat and steam and hope)

(... Craaaaaaaap)

So my confidence clothes-wise is knocked and I don’t want to mess up her favourite dress.

My perplexion and reluctance at ironing the dress does not go unnoticed.

‘Leave that one if you want’

I was going to my love

<Sits>

I was going to...

WICKET!