Smoothing my way through Yorkshire day

Ironing.  How boring is it?  Beyond dull, arsenumbing and mindless.  I really can't bear it.  So why do I do it?  I am going to introduce a new rule called Crumples Law that everyone is duty bound to obey, including my mother-in-law.  Ironing has been around for a very long time - I suppose since we stopped wearing those dry-clean only bear skins and began weaving in the cave.  I do have the very most wonderful ironing machine which is super speedy and makes your sheets flat in a trice but it's still a palaver hoisting them onto the flat rollers.  As I was turning the hay this morning Mr Smith did notice that I was trying to get away with unironed sheets.  He sent me back to the ironing machine.  But they're only crisp for one night; something I didn't point out to Mr Smith for fear of a demand for clean sheets every day like a five star hotel. He'll be phoning housekeeping next and wanting little chocolates on his pillow - dream on.

A hotel in Mexico where the bed linen origami was magnificent.

Mr Smith declared Monday Yorkshire Day.  Was it or did he make it up?  I believe it actually was as I have just looked up www.yorkshireday.co.uk which has a declaration: "Yorkshire Day is held on 1st August each year in an effort to celebrate all things Yorkshire."  After his hard day down the coal mine Mr Smith needed a quiet sit down. Whippet, go get thy master's copy of Yorkshire Post and Woman get thee to kitchen and make Yorkshire pudding for our tea.   Ay luv.

Today will be London Day with copious amounts of London Gin and no ironing.