A while ago, you may remember my writing about the curious fascination with laundry that my family seems to have. Well, having done the washing all those months ago, it strikes me that it's high time I got round to the ironing. For some unknown reason (although it may be 'insanity') I actually enjoy ironing. This is perhaps a rather embarrassing confession for a man aged-- well, for any man to be quite honest with you, female emancipation or not. Nevertheless, not only do I not mind doing it, I actively like it. Not necessarily of itself, but more because it is the ideal 'brain-off' activity to be doing while listening to tapes or CDs - I've got through much more than a Half Hour of Hancock and several "Doctor Who" stories while ironing, not to mention both series of that wholly remarkable radio show, "The Hitch-Hiker's Guide To The Galaxy."

We got a new ironing board last Christmas (no, it wasn't a present from me for my wife, nor vice versa) and I was inordinately excited about it. Let's be honest, any degree of excitement over an ironing board is probably inordinate, but there it is. The ironing board we had previously been using had been my wife's when she was still single ('The Glory Years' as she likes to call them) and was clearly far from new even when she first got it. It was undoubtedly sturdy, a British-made, blue metal creation, and in fact my parents have one that's almost identical. They got theirs when they were married, and without giving anything away (1966) that does make it quite a long-lasting board. My dad has re-covered theirs more than once over the years, but I am afraid my first thought when the bare metal started to emerge from beneath the disintegrating sponge cover on ours was not re-upholstery, but re-placement. I have a sneaking suspicion, by the way, that my Mum thinks this an extravagance on my part, as she's more than once mentioned how long they've had theirs.

I have to admit that this isn't the first time I've changed ironing boards. Prior to my wife's board (indeed, prior to my wife, full stop) my brother and I had an ironing board. It was... distinctive I think is the word I'm looking for. It came from a local 'bargain' store, and would appear to have been knocked up by somebody who clearly though they could make a nice little killing flogging cheap ironing boards. It was pretty basic, in that it was just a plank of wood with a folding leg, and some material on top. Perfectly adequate, don't get me wrong, but nothing too deluxe. It also had, or at least our one did, a bit of a droop. Although one of the basic requirements for an ironing board is that it is firmly horizontal, this one dropped off at the end, as a diving-board does when somebody stands on the end of it. It was a source of much hilarity in our family (aye, we had to make our own amusement in them days) although, to give the board its due, once you modified your ironing technique to compensate for the sudden attack of gravity at the furthest point, it was a perfectly reliable ironing board. (And besides, as a postscript on the subject, we later moved into a flat where the kitchen floor sloped alarmingly downhill towards the bathroom, so by positioning the board in just the right place, the effect was negated.)

In fact so much do I enjoy ironing, and probably never more so than now when (a) there is so much new "Doctor Who" material coming out on audio, but mainly (b) I have a new ironing board; that I was easy prey recently to the seductive powers of advertising. In the last aisle of our supermarket we found a new product, in a far too attractive shiny bottle (looks a bit like a bottle of Tequila actually). And it is called 'Ironing Water'. Yes, you may laugh - I did when my wife told me about it. Indeed, not only did I laugh but there was also a fair bit of scoffing too. Which makes it doubly ironic that the day after, I bought some.

Before you all go down the laugh-scoff-buy routine, let me regale you with some of the properties claimed by this stuff; and before those of you who only plan to get as far as the scoffing stage get carried away, let me point out that at the very least it's a damn sight cheaper than buying bottled drinking water when such a product is readily available from, say, a tap. It says here that it is "a perfumed ironing water" although I don't want anybody to infer from the use of the word perfume that I'm any the less macho than you had previously thought me. It also says that it "makes ironing easier" although that wasn't really a selling-point with me - this is a claim I've heard before, from various products, but I still don't know of any item that genuinely does make the ironing easier (except an au pair possibly). However, the one claim that swung it for me, or at least the one I could highlight to Mrs C to justify my giving in to such reckless curiosity, was that it apparently "protects your iron from limescale" and will thus "help prolong the life of your iron" - in other words, you'll actually be saving money, by not having to buy a new iron. Yes...

Well anyway, long story short, I bought some, stupid and weak-minded that I am. And I've used it. There is a list of warnings on the back - don't get it in your eyes; stay away from children (which is good advice anyway). Oddly enough it doesn't give any indication that you shouldn't drink it. It also, under the warning section, states that it "creates airborne perfume" - in other words, it gives off a smell. I'm one of these people who always reads the small-print on any product (which is how I can tell you that the only ingredient listed, "amongst others" which suggests there may be some secret recipe involved, is preservative, so I can rest assured my water won't be going off any time soon) so having been suitably warned about this airborne perfume I ensured the room was well-ventilated before I started. My wife observed however that you could still smell it all through the house (maybe it was the way the wind was blowing) but she said it was rather nice. That actually surprised me - the water claims to smell of "Wild Pear and Ginkgo" (I thought this was a lizard, but my wife informs me, not for the first time, that I am getting confused) but close up I have to say I thought it had just a tinge of, well, mothball to it. But no, apparently the smell is quite nice (so Mrs C says anyway) and certainly once it settles down any lingering mothballness does seem to fade.

I can't honestly claim to be making any great point with this column, other than at least setting your mind at ease, dear reader, as to the state of my laundry. It is washed and ironed, and stinks of Wild Pears and Ginkgo. Lovely.