So summer arrived yesterday. ‘How do you know?’, I hear you ask. Well the sound of summer is here: the drone of lawnmowers on a Sunday afternoon. Joy. In London we didn’t really have lawns – we had a garden/ yard but no grass, and those with grass would mow them so quickly you thought it was just another police helicopter going overhead. In the country it’s a tad quieter. So lawnmowers are more annoying. Especially on Sunday afternoons which is the trendy time to mow one’s lawn. Not content with just that, there are leaf blowers, axes, saws and so on. We add to it with our silly dog barking at other dogs being taken for a walk in the field behind.
Our problem is we aren’t as tidy as other people. We are happy mowing our lawn sporadically. We have 2 kids and the silly dog to look after and I’d rather have happy them than happy grass. So we don’t mow ours as often as some people. I think we are the scruff pots on the road. I mean, we have moss in the grass too, and mole hills! You see the moles know they are safer in our garden than any of our immediate neighbours.
So, if I ever had a Sunday morning hangover (which I haven’t done for several years now but I often do have Sunday or any other morning knackeredness), I would have to hide indoors listening to Girls Aloud or Twinkle Twinkle sung by a 2 year old to cheer me up.