Dashing Away With The Smoothing Iron


This song reminds me of my childhood. My mother used to sing it, bless her. Her singing voice was beautiful: High, pure and true.

Decades later, I sang the song to my baby son as I drove him to the childminder every morning.

By a wonderful irony, neither my mother nor I received the Domestic Goddess Gene when the good fairies came a’calling at our respective Christenings – and dashing away with the smoothing iron is not something that has figured prominently in my life; in fact, I have not wielded the aforesaid weapon of sartorial flattening since I moved here!

Still, ’tis a song I love.



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