In case you never thought about it, let me tell you that training to be a soldier includes a class on ironing. Now imagine thirty guys in a room, each standing over an ironing board loaded with shirts and holding an iron. And staring at the guy up front demonstrating the proper technique.

Someone just take a photo… pleeeeease!

Ironing is… apparently… an important part of being a soldier. Just like folding clothes a certain way or wearing shoes that can double as mirrors. It shows that we're a disciplined, well-trained, well-run unit with time to pay attention to details, I suppose. Shocking the enemy with our stylish looks. I know, I know. But when turning up for inspection as if you've just rolled out of bed gets your whole unit into trouble… yeah, I see the point of an ironing class.

I just didn't think it'd be actually painful. This shirt has more creases now than it did when it came out of the wash. And I've acquired a couple of impressive blisters. Yes, I'm fine doing push-ups and running around for hours on end… but now I wish I'd asked one of the many coordis who've looked after me over the years to teach me to iron properly.

It's the little things that trip you up. Always.