I was helping my Grandma once way back in the
hills where we didn't have electricity. The irons were
called "Sad Irons" for an excellent reason. I picked up
one from the wood stove and put it down on the padded
table, then reached over to pull the ironing towards me,
and got a burn on where one day my boobs would be.
I'm 76 and still have a whitish scar on my right one.
I think Grandma put honey on it and cold cloths.