I am interspersing selling off my pottery collection with selling off my collection of scarves. I have an extensive collection of scarves for a woman who rarely wears scarves.
I think Jason approves more of the scarf collection because it squashes down small, so he’s never really said much about my propensity to ruffle around in baskets of scarves in charity shops with my bum in the air like a demented Jemima Puddleduck, only to emerge triumphant with something small and gauzy.
The thing about selling off such items is that they require a lot of maintenance before you begin. Pottery is the other way around. When you start off, you just give it a casual dust, take its photo and whack it on EBay. The problem comes at the end of the selling process when you have to wrap it. This is a blinking nightmare and literally does give me nightmares. I pray over each piece as it wings its way to its destination, and I shall be glad when the pottery has run out. My mind will be much more tranquil then.
The scarves on the other hand, need washing and then need ironing.
The upside is that you just shove ’em in brown paper and send ’em off at the end of the process.
It is the ironing that kills me.
Long term readers will know that I do not iron. It is not in my nature. It is not in my genes. I am not skilled at it.
It is not for the want of trying. My dear mother taught me to iron, along with all the other things a girl should know how to do, way back when. Stuff like how to make bread, how to make spaghetti bolognese with my eyes shut and how not to squirt furniture polish in my eye.
The ironing thing never really worked from the get go. There was the fatal time I ironed my nylon PE knickers on too hot a setting and left a cast iron stiff, iron shaped mark in the front of my pants, which was there for the next three years, as my mother refused to buy me a new pair. There has never been any improvement since. Jason has given up trying to ask me to iron his shirts. On the one occasion I did, when we were going to a wedding in Leeds, he bribed me with a Thai curry, and I was to iron his wedding shirt while he went to fetch the curry. I ironed and ironed and ironed until the curry came home and he took one look at it, and then ironed it again himself.
Since then I have given up all forms of ironing unless there is some sort of unavoidable, iron related emergency. I cannot think that there has been a single one in the last ten years, which is good.
However, nobody else is going to iron my scarf collection, and needs must when you have scarves to sell, so for the last two weeks I have been wielding an iron with very little success. I do all the things as instructed, and on a scarf there are no complex bends or curves or wobbly bits like on a shirt, but they still come off the ironing board looking just as crumpled as when they went on. I have tried different heat settings. I have tried using the steam bit. I have tried ironing when they are wet – but no. I am anathema to the iron and the iron to me.
I feel sorry for the people on EBay who buy my crumpled offerings. I feel like I should message them all and explain my utter uselessness with an iron. I suspect they wouldn’t believe me. Maybe they are only buying them from me because they feel sorry for me. It is a pity thing. I am ‘the crumpled ironer of old Ebay town.’ Someone might dedicate a Pinterest board to my ruffled, scrumpled and frankly pathetic offerings one day.
Am I the only person in the whole world who cannot iron things?