Crumpled Englishman in New York

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What does this cheeky little floral number represent? Well, I’m about to tell you. Today was the day I taught myself how to iron shirts. Yep.

Until now we have paid a visit to the dry cleaners every single Saturday to drop off and collect any laundry in need of ironing. Because, well, I hate it. But I now need to learn and with a pile before me I did it. Sort of.

It doesn’t help that my dear husband doesn’t own any “basic” shirts. I will never again buy him a shirt purely because I like it. I’ll be eyeing it up on my newly discovered “ironability” scale. Fancy buttons? Nah. Fancy creasy bits? No thank you.

I’m not a natural ironer, that much is clear, but hopefully it will get easier. I need to stop ironing creases into things, for starters.

If anyone sees a crumpled Englishman in New York, please say hi to my husband.

L. x


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