I am not nearly as obsessive about ironing as I am about doing the laundry itself. Even so, I prefer to finish the day’s ironing rather than allow unironed clothes to accumulate over several days or, as some people I know seem perfectly content to do, an entire week. A towering pile of wrinkled shirts and trousers gives me mild anxiety.

Ironing is also one of the very few activities during which I can completely switch my brain off – something I regard as a rare luxury. I put on some music and, through a series of practised manoeuvres, watch the creases magically melt away beneath the iron. Occasional observers have noted that I even subconsciously dance a little jig at the ironing board, keeping time with the music as I work.

There are limits, however, to my domestic diligence. When the ironing becomes too overwhelming – for instance, after returning from an overseas trip with a week’s worth of laundry – I happily leave the task to the weekly cleaning lady to set things right.

Long before electric irons, the Chinese had already developed sophisticated methods of pressing and smoothing garments. Archaeological discoveries and literary sources suggest that ironing tools have existed as far back as the late Shang dynasty (1600BC-1046BC).

These early irons used heated charcoal placed inside a bronze or iron container with a flat base. The heated base was then passed over cloth to remove wrinkles and shape garments. The classic Chinese iron resembled a shallow pan or ladle with a long handle and was known in ancient texts as the huodou (“fire ladle”) or jindou (“metal ladle”).

That resemblance to a kitchen utensil survives in the modern Chinese word for iron, yundou: dou is a ladle-like implement, while yun describes the act of smoothing cloth with heat.