One man didn't go...

...to mow. The lawn needs to be mown again and for some reason I really hate doing it. It doesn't take too long; I could probably do with the exercise; it's nice when it's finished. But all the same I hate doing it. If I had a reason for this hate, it would probably be something to do with the utter pointlessness of it. If I do it today, it will probably have to be done again in ten days or so and in the meantime the chances are that I will hardly spend any time in the garden at all to enjoy this nicely cropped grass. What is the point? (To get a bit Pseud's Corner: it could be a Sisyphean thing -- man struggling absurdly to dominate nature. Or else it must have something to do with men -- and it's usually men who do the mowing -- needing some reason to get out of the house for a while at the weekend.) Perhaps I should consult a new book on the philosophy of grardens (no, really...) for some insights (and for a grumpy review of it see here.) But then perhaps the philosophy of gardens is distinct from the philosophy of gardening... How about the Homebase chair in theoretical gardening? Is there anyone out there able to persuade me to love my mower? And, if there is anyone out there who does enjoy a good mow then she or he is, of course, very welcome to come and mow my lawn any time.