It's not easy being green

Mulch, the 2nd assistant undergardener, has strained his nether-regions again, meaning that I have to take over mowing duties on the Little Lawn.

Despite tender love and attention from the previous owners, the lawn had not been mowed since around October 1842 and the grass had moved past 'rough', through 'meadow' and was ambitiously hurtling towards “Japanese soldier who does not know the war is over has taken refuge there” proportions.

I started the clean up process and while there were no Oriental warriors, there was a predigious amount of fox shit. The little buggers have gotten too cheeky since hunting was banned and, by the look of it, are on some sort of high-fibre/Mexican food diet.

That done, it was time to cut the thing.First cut down and after much raking, went to medium cut. this was much the same. lots of grunting and sweating and, frankly, praying for rain.

It did eventually arrive, meaning I did not have the time to do the 'beauty pass'. That's the pass over the lawn that turns it from looking like Morning Hair to regimented rows of grass, doing what it's bloody well told and more importantly, providing a backdrop for a nice game of croquet and gin, but mostly gin.

Please join me in praying for the swift recovery of Mulch’s family jewels!