the bikes may be lying idle in the shed and exercise limited to brief two minute sessions on the trainer but today i bite the bullet and venture into the untamed wilderness that is my garden.
yet within minutes my neighbour comes out also to tend to his snooker table perfect lawn. i attempt to make small talk. i am rebuffed. i can almost feel the curtain twitching two doors along. it's no challenge when it's short i say. with a smirk. as i combat the lush foliage he gives up on the non-mowing and instead adopts the high pitched whine of the strimmer, attending to invisible tufts of grass with all the attentiveness of someone with an obsessive compulsive disorder. in the end i can take it no longer and succumb to his pettiness, giving up the mowing right next to his geometric border, great tufts and hussocks of untamed grass, ragged edges, seed heads nodding in the wind.
frailty thy name is woman wrote shakespeare who obviously lived in a time before he'd seen a man and his lawnmower
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