One one of my long sojurns in the wilderness, I received word from Lady Snoutingdingle that if I didn't address the mowing situation, then the only thing that was likely to be trimmed in future would be my nether parts. I would say that Lady Snoutingdingle works manfully in the Night Planted Orchard, but most men work a fraction as hard as Lady S. Our "mighty" mower had hit one of the many peices of ancient debris in the orchard and sulked thereafter. I promised to find a better solution. Given our epic lack of cashflow, we opted for a second hand ride on mower which duly arrived on the back of a trailer with a three month guarantee. It is bright red. I would say that 'restored' is a better description than 'second hand'. Its prior owner kicked it a couple of times when it struggled to struggle into life, smiling cheerfully. Lady S mounted the beast and pootled around the garden for a few minutes until she crashed it into a bush where it died with a meaty crunch. Extracting herself with a stiff 'stuff and nonesense' she summoned the owner who peered under the wheel-parts, rummaged in his pockets, re-attached some component or other with a bent hairpin and dissapeared into the sunset reminding us of our three months warranty. We christened him with a glass of red and welcomed Roger the Ride-On to the Night Planted Orchard. The Hunter watched disdainfully with a raised doggy eyebrow as if to say, 'trouble'.