Last Autumn our lawnmower finally went phut. Died. Ceased to mow. Went to the celestial greenhouse….
Being somewhat disorganised, and reluctant gardeners at that… we haven’t got around to replacing it yet.
So when the boy’s teenage mates came around to play football on our lawn… they were faced with an over-the-knee meadow with a set of goalposts just visible at the far end.
Imagine then, how gobsmacked we were when a set of German teenagers popped indoors to see me and my husband and asked: “Do you mind if we mow your lawn?”
They went and secured the requisite tools from their own homes and before we knew it, there was a buzzing and growling of electric and petrol motors at the far end of the wilderness garden.
I had to go and see this with my own eyes… and indeed it was an amazing sight. It was as though the team from Ground Force had descended. One lad asked me (in polite English) for some “big scissors” – by which I assumed he meant shears – and proceeded to prune the bushes too.
The whole thing took them about 45 minutes.
And did they still have the energy left to play football? Yes… of course! Once they’d stocked up on calories from the fridge!
Teenage boys! What’s not to like?