So, spring well and truly sprang over this weekend.
Temperatures soared to a balmy 17 degrees in my back garden, inspiring me to dig out the trusty old lawnmower from the back of the garden shed.
An old petrol model, battered and bruised from some less than gentle handling, it’s now rusty with age. But it can still be relied upon to tame my urban jungle of a lawn.
With the sun out, it was time for the first cut of the year. Four hours preparation, clipping hedges and edges and weeding borders then the main event. The glory job. Can you imagine the sense of anti-climax when the thing wouldn’t start?
