When I was a young lad I would mow two sets of lawns, ours and my Nana’s, under great sufferance. I loathed mowing and apparently my dark mutterings could be heard above the roar of dad’s old mower. I wouldn’t mutter at Nana’s ’cause her lawn was more interesting – you could mow much better shapes as you went around.
Now, as every one knows, when you mow a lawn the catcher gets full of clippings and needs to be emptied – all part of ‘mowing the lawn’. Well, not in our household. Somehow or another I wangled it so my little sister had to come out and empty the catcher whenever it was full. How I got away with this little piece of murder I will never know but I’d march up to the door, still muttering darkly, ring the door bell and then rev the guts out of Mr Victa until Helen appeared and took the clippings away.
This morning Rae pointed out that a mowing business was for sale.
I wonder if Helly would be interested in forming a partnership?