On Lawnmowers

I bought a new lawnmower yesterday on the back of some excellent advice from Jim who, in turn, had the word HORTICULTURALIST emblazoned across his own back. Well across the back of his Woodies DIY shirt at any rate.

Jim explained the options to me clearly and with no little amount of urbanity.

They were:

1. Petrol. Too expensive. A sledgehammer to crack a nut. Out of the question. Don't be absurd.
2. Electric. Absolutely shite. Waste of time. Flymo my arse! Move on.
3. Manual. A push one. Like back in the olden times. Environmentally friendly. The wife will be pleased. Kid friendly. They can mow the lawn themselves.

"Jim", I say. "I'm gonna take the push one. In blue. It's cool".
"Good man", he replies, adding the most interesting thing anyone has ever said to me in a shop. "Be true to yourself".

As I sat in the garden last night, listening to James Taylor, a cold glass of Chablis resting on my chest, watching the kids fighing over whose turn it was to cut the grass, I felt I had been.