Lawn Lunatic

 If ever there was a more pertinent sign that I have solemnly transitioned into middle-age unoriginality, it has got to be my sudden obsessive approach to attaining the most exquisite lawn...

No longer am I preoccupied with young person things like 'the TikTok', Insta-followers and whether I identify as a He, She, They or a house plant this month. Much more important is worrying about the weather and saying things like "good for the garden though", when pissing rain ruins your first round of golf in 3 years. 

I've always had an interest in gardening and everything that comes with being in the garden, but this year it's as if i've suddenly developed an unhealthy desire to have the most pristine lawn known to mankind. It's a bit ridiculous really. I don't think any grown up man should be this interested in grass. I mean, it's grass.

Yet still, before we went on holiday, I aerated the entire lawn, scarified it, meticulously seeded and weeded it, endlessly watered it and even read it a soothing bedtime story. On my return I was expecting the most awe inspiring, putting green level lawn, only to be bitterly disappointed in the results. Although this can largely be attributed to the lack of any rain in my absence. 

One distinct disadvantage I have, it must be said, is having a dog that uses my lawn as his personal pisspot. What he fails to appreciate however, is my middle aged need to gawp at my newly mowed lawn, hands on hips, chest out and a massive mentally unstable grin on my face. I've had a word with him, but he doesn't seem too bothered with where I specifically don't want him to urinate. So the struggle continues and my mission for the perfect lawn rolls on...