one of my son’s friends was at our house the other Sunday when he suddenly announced he’d have to go home because he’d got a pile of school shirts to iron for the week ahead.
My 13-year-old looked at him in astonishment. And so did I.
Before this friend had even got his bike off our driveway I’d got the ironing board out for my son.
To give him credit, his first go was easily as good as anything I produce in a hurry late at night.
I must remember to thank that other mum.