The charm of ironing ...

I've just finished ironing - as I calmed a stroppy linen shirt, I thought of all the times I've stood before an ironing board -

I used to watch my mum ironing, calmly working her way through a Hadrian's Wall of my dad's vests - later, I'd watch Wells Fargo - I'd colour in a map of Ghana whilst Dale Robinson hunted down unshaven killers -

When I was teaching, I'd iron my school shirts every Sunday afternoon - I'd think of the week ahead - my apparatchik's suits would be hanging in the wardrobe -

Now I iron gaudy shirts - I've thrown away my suits -

But the charm of ironing remains -

I'm still soothed by the hissing of the steam iron - I still see ironing as a metaphor -

Each smoothed garment is a problem solved, a grief assuaged -