Cut the grass? Not me. I mow the lawn.

The old place was a semi-detached in a nice area on the outskirts of London. As such we didn’t have a proper lawn. We had a patch of grass and some borders, but nothing substantial. Enough to make a Summer BBQ pleasant. I never really enjoyed looking after the grass and I only used one of those hairdryer type mowers that rather flattened the grass than actually cut it.

The new place though. Well that’s a different story. Part of the appeal of the new house was the big garden with lots of grass for the boy and me to run around in. A garden of this size needs a man’s solution when it comes to keeping it tidy. So a few weeks ago, I got myself a petrol mower. Now, I’m no petrol-head. I’m the opposite; more of a put fuel in and expect it to work through some kind of internal combustion magic kind of guy. But a petrol mower is a work of art. A thing of beauty.

There are few things finer than mowing a lawn with a proper mower. I’m talking mowing not “cutting the grass”. It an altogether more manly verb.

From filling it with petrol from a can, starting it up and then slowly walking round the garden making as neat a job of the lines a possible. It is all good. The end result of one of the finest things a man can do in an hour.

Can’t wait to get out there next week and do it all again 🙂


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