Extreme Ironing

I'm leading such a peripatetic existence at the moment; in fact, I've seen more of the UK in 2009 than I have in my whole life.

But one thing remains - chores still need to be done. Wherever I am. This week, I managed to criss-cross the country more than once, even though that was not the plan.

I ended up in the same place as my husband (a lovely surprise) but he has been too busy to attend to matters domestic, such as laundry, cleaning and anything else you can think of in the (temporary*) home department. Not so lovely. So it was my turn to turn things round. Which I did. Sort of. Well, I made a start.

My good wifely deed of the week was to iron 11 shirts (10 for work, one for fun). In one go (well, almost). I've managed to aggravate an old back injury (perhaps it was the camping?), so I stood in front of the ironing board with a hot water bottle strapped to me. I alternated standing with sitting on a silver space ball, which just made the whole job more tricky and time-consuming.

But but but it did give me a chance to listen to the radio. I heard Harvey Goldsmith on Desert Island Discs (why, oh why, can't they put it on iPlayer? I know, I know...it's something about copyright.), snippets of Woman's Hour, including a piece about a new play called Dust, based on June Hancock's victory against the J W Roberts asbestos factory, based in Armley, Leeds. By the time June was diagnosed with cancer, she had already lost her mother to the malignant lung disease (usually caused by exposure to asbestos) and wanted justice for others. The June Hancock Mesothelioma Research Fund's website will tell you more.

The ironing marathon (well, for me it was) ended with listening to Front Row, about celebrity memoirs. My favourite moments were Alan Carr's throwaway comment about a gay font and Julie Walters' anecdotes about filming, She'll Be Wearing Pink Pyjamas. Catch it while you can on iPlayer.

My husband used to make his own drama out of his weekly shirt ironing - even when we were dating. It was an event. One that had to be planned (and accommodated), every single weekend. It drove me insane. So I started to do it (once we were co-habitating) - to circumvent the West End musical theatricality of it all. Soon, ironing became just another item on the never-ending to do list. But on Friday, I really didn't mind. It gave me a bona fide reason to listen to the radio - guilt-free.

* He works away, Monday - Friday, and lives in a 'luxury apartment' ie a flat.