Ride on mowers. One of those things that men of a certain age dream of. I know Stu had tried and failed to justify the purchase of one at Mon Ami, but with 15 acres to tend, there was now no excuse not to hit the shops.

The research was extensive ; bedtime reading was now the heavy plant machines of a John Deere brochure, not the fast cars of Evo. Discussions were had with anyone who knew about such things, and trips were made to specialist dealers around the south east.

If he’d had paid as much attention to ordering the kitchen then he might’ve remembered the oven.

But this was different. It had wheels.

And then it was delivered. And i feared that I’d lost Stu to the fields.

But in a moment of sincere benevolence, Stu asked if I’d like a turn? Millsy had already tried it out, and spent about an hour or so trundling up and down a field on it. But I was pretty non plussed. It was just another appliance for doing a job – and I spend enough time with the Dyson and the dishwasher thanks. But I accepted his offer, and was immediately hooked.

Saffie jumped on board and together we spent an hour in the sun whizzing round the fields. It was somehow exhilarating and relaxing all at the same time. The countryside seemed different being that little bit higher up; I noticed things I hadn’t seen before. We saw rabbits scampering for cover as we approached at speed, and even disturbed a rather magnificent pheasant who flew up out of the long grass right in front of us. Saffie squealed with delight the whole time, and i have to admit I finally understood what all the fuss was about.

I’m brokering a deal with Stu now to swap ironing for lawn mowing. And if I succeed, and the stripes are a little bit wonky, then it’s because I’ll be making the most of this wonderful chore (and the drinks holder) and sipping a nice cold G&T as I mow.