bigjohn

There is many a good tune played on an old fiddle.

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“One man went to mow” …

Posted by Big John on March 11, 2008

The sound of lawnmowers has been in the air around here since the middle of February: so the other day I decided that I had better have a go at my patch of weedy grass before it got out of hand.  

It’s not a very big lawn, but it’s finished off two lawn mowers in the past ten years, and number three looked much the worse for wear as I wheeled it out of the shed after it’s winter hibernation.

Before I could even start mowing my lawn, one of the wheels came off and the grass box fell apart as soon as it hit one of the many humps on what I’m sure must be the site of some ancient Saxon burial ground. The spring which held the box in place flew over a hedge never to be seen again, as the motor whined to a shuddering stop.  

“Bollocks !” :mad: I said as I kicked the ‘Made in China’ sticker on the side of the mower and decided, there and then, to ‘invest’ in a ‘quality’ machine.

Now having bought one or two German made household appliances and power tools in the past, I decided to say “sod the expense” and go for the latest thing in grass cutting technology from ‘ze farterland’.

Having returned from my local B&Q with my new mower …

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… I decided not to waste any more time and immediately unpacked the box and commenced to assemble the machine. After an hour or so of total confusion, I threw away the bloody useless assembly instructions …  

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 …  and was ready to declare ‘blitzkrieg‘ on the lawn.

I’m pleased to report that my new ‘Rasenmäher’ swept through my tangled mass of grass like a proper Prussian ‘panzer’, leaving not a blade untouched, which is surprising since I still have five plastic parts and a couple of screws in the bottom of the box …

…    which must fit somewhere. :???:      

4 Responses to ““One man went to mow” …”

  1. Chris said

    I like the sound of those ‘unique grass combs’ on the advert. Why bother trying to cut neat stripes in the lawn, when you can give it a centre parting instead?

  2. Terri said

    LOL….I’m sure eventually you’ll figure out where those parts go. (when the mower doesn’t work anymore)
    Wow….that looks like the Lexus of lawn mowers!

  3. Ginnie said

    Somehow your “German Lawnmower” story reminded me of a trip I made to Italy. Flew into Munich and everything in the airport was exceptionally state of the art and the service was beyond professional. (Very, very correct and very, very sterile and cold.)
    Flew into Florence airport and they proceeded to lose our luggage (which was supposed to be on the next flight in), the noisy staff was laughing and talking so much that we couldn’t get a word in and we finally sat down and just enjoyed the chaos. It was typically Italian and we loved it.
    Go figure!

  4. Stories like this remind me why I gave up gardening and other bad habits. Because the “lawn” where I used to live was so bad (bad enough to require inverted commas), I used to hire a motor mower to deal with it. I remember a gentleman in a nearby house asking me to mow his lawn, saying he would pay me. He offered me 50p. Well, it was some years ago.

    I thereupon decided it was much better to put my undoubted talents to use in enrolling the other residents into a scheme for hiring a gardener to do the donkey work. Sorted.

    Where I live these days, the council mows our lawn. How civilized is that?

    In any case, I think gardening is an affront to nature. We are losing wilderness at a terrifying rate. Great swathes of our beloved nation are covered with concrete and brick. What chance has wild life of surviving in these frightful deserts? Very little, unless we allow nature to take a hand and turn our gardens into little nature reserves.

    I remember the thrill of looking out of the window the other night (we live in the heart of the city, remember) and seeing a fox standing on the garden wall staring back at us. I like to think our unkempt back garden (the council only mows the front) provides an island of hope for Reynard and his kin.

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