I remember sometime ago when I was completely insane I wrote a blog post about the merits of ironing, am not linking because I have no categories and no idea where it is. If you find it, let me know. Anyway, I was rabbiting on about the merits of a particular ironing spray which I sprayed about with gay abandon for about a fortnight before it was shoved into the back of the laundry cupboard, condemned to live out its days being laughed at by the washing machine powder.

For the record I'd like to state that I am a NON-IRONER, nary a shirt collar nor box-pleated frock has passed my ironing board in the last ten years. The only exception to the rule is when I am sewing, at which point I am at one with my iron, it channels a Star Warsesque Force in sorting out the myriad sewing disasters that come my way.

If there are any beginner sewers out there, be aware of the House of Rummage Cardinal Rule of Sewing: get thee an iron and starch the bejeezus out of whatever sewing mistake you have made and I guarantee you that the ironing fairies will sort the majority of the problem.

This is all well and good, of course, if the iron in question is not a prehistoric bohemoth that regurgitates rusty water on the quarter hour. Alas for my iron, she chose the wrong garment and the wrong family member to perform her rusty splurts upon.  The Frenchman decided for the first time in ten years he would Iron His Shirt about a week ago with devastating results. I was in the bedroom quietly minding my own business when I heard a metallic crunching issuing from the backgarden, moments later the Frenchman appeared with a triumphant look in his eye.

Frenchman: (with great enthusiasm and gesticulations) I have thrown zat piece of sheet out ze window

Me: (puzzled) What piece of sheet?

Frenchman: Ze iron, regarde! (thrusts rust-stained shirt at me)

Me: (realisation dawning) What, are you f&*%ing kidding me? What the hell am I going to do now?

Frenchman: (slightly crestfallen) But it felt fantastique..

(pregnant pause with lifted eyebrows and pouting)

Chastened Frenchman: I will buy another, ma cherie..tomorrow?

And so we now have a brand-spanker of a new iron with all the bells and whistles. Hurrah! xx

Comments

[katiecrackernuts]

Could he come and throw my vacuum and washing machine out a window? I guarantee - after the hefty lifting of the washing machine - it will feel fantastique.

[Razmataz]

I love the way you depict his accent. I can almost hear the conversation. !!

[Penny (Pocket Carnival)]

Ooh la la! How could you get mad at someone with an accent like that (I am imagining!)

[Dag]

I loove your funny story - specifically the conversation about "zat pice of sheet"! - Thanks for sharing!

[Lisa]

For the record, I love ironing ;) But my real reason for commenting is that I am insanely jealous of your lovely green, aqua items on your header.

Too beautiful.

Have a great weekend!

Lisa

[Lola Nova]

A most enjoyable story indeed! It reminds me of the time The Engineer threw a dodgy chair out in the yard and then commenced to attack it with an axe. We now have a new (to us) and most lovely chair. Voila!

[Christina]

I think I would faint if my husband picked up the iron to do anything with it. But I would be very please if he threw it out the window. I also never iron except for when crafting and maybe the occasional wedding.

As always, love how to tell a story and love the frenchmans accent. :)

[Kerry]

That was a cracker of a post. A great way to start my weekend. Enjoy yours
Kerry

[Kirsty]

I only iron for craft & only if the wrinkles are too obvious to get away with casually scrumpled just as our collective wardrobe is...

& you know if you challenge me I will rise...

& google is my friend...

http://rummage.typepad.com/rummage/2008/02/macrame-gingham.html

[Cristy]

Is it a French thing? My French teachers were always threatening to throw me out the window - usually for my poor grammar.