SQUINTER got the soaking of his life on Sunday, as some eagle-eyed passers-by happened to notice. Said eagle-eyed passers-by were kind enough to place the information on Twitter, which made Squinter sound like some kind of nutter because he didn’t get drenched walking home from the shops, he got drenched cutting the grass. An explanation...
It was a fine Saturday evening when Squinter, having completed a number of other weekend chores, turned his hand to cutting the grass. He had about a third of the back garden done when the engine coughed and spluttered and came to a halt. A quick check confirmed that the lawnmower had run out of petrol; a quick second check confirmed that there was no petrol in the little red plastic container. The car was gone and so no chance of nipping down to the garage to fill up the container (probably £20 a go now), and so he resolved to finish it on Sunday.
It was a grey and overcast afternoon when Squinter began, and in around 15 minutes the promise of rain became a reality, but only a light if steady drizzle that dried on the clothes before it had a chance to settle.
Squinter ploughed ahead and as he did the rain became heavier with each passing minute. It wasn’t all bad news – gardeners will tell you that the collection basket on a lawnmower holds more grass when the weather’s wet – it’s heavier and more compact, gets thrown further back and settles more densely than the dry fluffy stuff. And so Squinter found to his satisfaction that he was only having to empty the basket every three laps of the garden instead of every two.
It was such technical thoughts that prevented Squinter from noticing that the rain had turned into what that tweeter accurately described as a monsoon. And when he did realise that the rain was making it hard to see, that the dye on his gutties was staining his sopping trousers and socks, there was only a tantalisingly small bit to go. And so Squinter continued...
Squinter’s quite happy to admit that this all must have looked rather strange to anyone passing and looking out from the interior of a warm, dry car: a middle-aged man in a monsoon pushing a lawnmower through a saturated lawn. And in retrospect it was a bit bonkers; but all Squinter can say is that at the time it seemed like the right thing to do. To push on, to persevere, to battle and to prevail. Make you wanna join the ’Ra.
