IRONING IS RELAXING

IRONING IS RELAXING

rujokinggrandad.co.uk BLOG 5th February 2018

 

THOUGHTS FOR THE DAY

I never did much ironing until I retired. Now I love it finding it so relaxing as I listen to music. So, I found I could associate withVicki Feaver’s  rxcellent “Ironing” poem.

Vicki Feaver writes

There’s a poem by George Herbert, the metaphysical poet, that I’ve always really liked. It’s called ‘The Flower’ and in the poem he uses the flower as a metaphor for his own spiritual death and recovery – the death of the flower in winter. And there are some wonderful lines in the poem: “And now in age I bud again,/After so many deaths I live and write;/I once more smell the dew and rain,/And relish versing:” And they seem extraordinary lines to me – because I like walking in the rain, because they seem so sensual for someone to have written in the 17th century. And because it was always a favourite poem, one day I was ironing – and all my life hated ironing – and suddenly I sort of smelt the scent coming off the cloth (of course very horrible cheap scents which are put into washing powder) but it was suddenly a wonderful feeling and it connected with a feeling for me that my life had got a lot better. And so I used the idea of the Herbert poem – this idea of a spiritual death and recovery – to write my own poem but using the metaphor of ironing.

Ironing – Vicki Feaver

I used to iron everything:

my iron flying over sheets and towels

like a sledge chased by wolves over snow;

the flex twisting and crinking

until the sheath frayed, exposing

wires like nerves. I stood like a horse

with a smoking hoof,

inviting anyone who dared

to lie on my silver padded board,

to be pressed to the thinness

of dolls cut from paper.

I’d have commandeered a crane

if I could, got the welders at Jarrow

to heat me an iron the size of a tug

to flatten the house.

Then for years I ironed nothing.

I put the iron in a high cupboard.

I converted to crumpledness.

And now I iron again: shaking

dark spots of water onto wrinkled

silk, nosing into sleeves, round

buttons, breathing the sweet heated smell

hot metal draws from newly-washed

cloth, until my blouse dries

to a shining, creaseless blue,

an airy shape with room to push

my arms, breasts, lungs, heart into.

 

 

INSPIRATIONAL QUOTE FOR THE DAY

  1. Just when the caterpillar thought the world was ending, he turned into a butterfly. ~Proverb

HAPPINESS IS…

Happiness is…ironing whilst listening to music

GRANDAD’S ONE LINER JOKE OF THE DAY

What do you get from a pampered cow?…Spoiled milk.

LOVE IS…

Love is…a flame that never goes out

TRACK OF THE DAY

Never Can Say Goodbye – Gloria Gayner

Highest Chart Position: No.2 25th January 1975