Most household tasks have been revolutionised over the past 200 years. So why has technology left ironing behind, asks Fiona Gartland
It calls to me from its hiding place in the basket under the stairs, summoning me to do my duty. It whispers as I head to the back garden to admire the elusive sun or settle down on the couch for a good read.
No matter what the weather, no matter the time of year, it is there awaiting attention, the tottering pile of clean but crumpled clothes, demanding what it demanded of my mother, and my mother's mother, back through the generations. And I'm still doing the same thing as they did.
Why has technology left ironing behind? Other household tasks have been revolutionised by technological advances. Women don't sluice clothes in the sink any more or scrub collars until their knuckles bleed. There are no more fingers mangled in the mangle, and drying in wet weather is a warm tumble.
Even cooking has been helped. Baked potatoes are a three-minute cinch in the microwave and butter does not require immersion in cold water to keep it from melting in the summer.
But ironing is still the same old thing.
It works by using heat to loosen the bonds between long-chain polymers in the fibres of the material. While the polymers are hot, the fibres are straightened by the weight of the iron. Then they hold their new shape as they cool.
In 800 AD the Vikings used smoothing glasses on their garments and in 1600 wrought irons with hot coals inside were the latest innovation. In the 1800s irons were heated on a fire or range.
There is a little black Beanco Baxendale range in our kitchen; it came with the house and we haven't had the heart to remove it. It can be used for heating irons, and the iron it accommodates is not far removed from the models used today.
Granted, modern irons have a few more additions. Since the first half of the 20th century they've been heated by plugging in, instead of being placed on a source of heat, and they do have a natty little button for squirting out steam. But aside from that, they are basically the same - lumps of heated metal to be pressed firmly onto fabric while standing at an ironing board.
This is the 21st century; can't we do better than this? The solution is definitely not in the fabric. Though non-iron labels on shirts look tempting in the store, nobody really believes that "stay-pressed" means stay pressed.
And polyester blouses were all very well for the Brady Bunch: sweating didn't seem like such a sin in the 1970s. But in the 21st, when the heat is on, it's cotton that is needed next to the body, and not a man-made fabric with all the breathe-ability of a body bag.
I have a friend who loves to iron; it is a pastime to her. She irons her children's socks and says it gives her thinking time. She could iron for Ireland at the Olympics.
But it is not my forte. An Olympic judge would give me seven out of 10 for trousers and four for the tricky shoulder area on shirts.
It is time that inventors looked to what matters most. Never mind iPod nanos or high-definition digital DVD rewriters. Stop using brainpower on upgrading games consuls and making television sets bigger. What's needed is a return to basics; what's needed is an ironing machine into which that basket of crumpled clothes can be emptied and out of which will come neatly folded, crease-free (except where necessary), ready-to-hang garments.
So I'm crossing my fingers that the new "Driron" is a step in the right direction. It's an appliance that looks like a cross between a wardrobe and a fridge. The device, made by a company called Fagor, claims to suck humidity out of damp clothes, leaving them smooth. It costs more than €2,000, is rather large and sounds a bit complicated to use. But it's expected on the market by November - which can't come soon enough for me.
