File this under not living up to expectations. No, not Cole as my fellow traveler. She’s of course wonderfully laidback and approaches all of our experiences thus far with her usual quick sense of humor (only whilst in London she’s adapted it to a sense of humour, naturally). It’s my no-iron shirt. Or so called. To be fair, it might have had an outside chance at living up to its hype … if I hadn’t subjected it to my over-packed suitcase along with many other “travel-worthy” items.
Which of course led to my courageous investigation of the in-room ironing capabilities. A trouser press, an iron and an ironing board. That all seemed “well promising.” Until I set up the ironing board, which was either made with child labourers in mind … or for some other extremely small ironers. I’d include a photo here if only I could get the proper perspective (I couldn’t). So you’ll have to imagine it barely coming above my knees, which it cleared by a whole 2 inches or so.
That said, the miniature board more than made up for its diminutive size by returning my no-iron shirt (with some effort from myself, not a small child, leprechaun, or Dobby himself) to a reasonably wearable condition. Success. Or as my friend Charlie would say, “WINNING!”
Thus, I deem our trip is off to a successful start! Hurray!