Wednesday 23rd September 2026

I can't remember when we bought our latest mower. Possibly four or five years ago.

Last year it stopped working, and I, the engineer, tried to fix it.

I did not fix it.

Jools said we should take it to the lawnmower repair man in Whitfied.

I tried to fix it again, and failed.

Turned out that the fuel had gone stale, as I only use the mower two or three times a year, so drained the old fuel out, tightened everything up and sold me special fuel at twenty five quid a gallon.

But the mower fires first time, and works well.

I never used the collecting box, it all looked rather complicated, and maybe I though manual labour cleansed my soul.

Or something.

With the equinox falling at six minutes past midnight, and the day was to to be warm and sunny, I thought I would "do" the lawnmeadow.

After a lay in to six, coffee, and lazing around. Jools went to her class, and was now going to go to a different craft club so to taxi for Jill along the street as her dementia is too much for those who used to drive her about.

So, when she left at quarter to ten, I got the mower out, took ten minutes to attach the box, then dropped it down two notches and gave it a good going over.

No manual scarifying for me, I now have an electric one. So ran that over next, dragging the dried thatch to the surface, before finally mowing again, collecting the thatch with no raking needed.

I was done by half eleven, and the machines put away, the clippings in the bin, and sipping on iced squash when Jools came home.

It looked great, almost lawn-like.

All I have to do now is wait for next week's rain, and the day before, sow or broadcast the seeds, then let nature do her work over the winter, and hope for a fine display next spring.

Other than that, not much happened. I read more of the book in the afternoon sitting beside a gently snoring Scully.

In the hedge I saw a Blackcap, and two Chiff-chaffs came hopping up the path only to see me, then fly away in a panic.

Leftovers for dinner, and squash.

And a football-free evening to relax in, and sit on the patio to watch the fuller gibbous moon rise through the clouds over France.

All rather nice, really.