Getting half cut
I mowed the lawns yesterday.
That may not be earth shattering news to some but it really was an achievement, up there with climbing Everest or walking to the North Pole.
You see, the last time I cut the grass was around last August or maybe even September, but I would tend to put my money on July. As a results the place was not so much a lawn as a fully grown hay field. I wouldn’t mind if it filled with natural wild plants but the only non-grass was a crop of raspberry canes [I don’t know where they came from], a few tree saplings and a moxy load of dandelions. And of course loads of attempts by brambles to create new bushes. On top of all that, because it’s long grass it’s also very wet.
My biggest concern was getting the old tractor going. It has been sitting idly in the garage gathering dust and cobwebs over winter. But to my amazement, it started first time. That new battery was apparently a good investment.
Having driven onto the first lawn I discovered the problem with wet grass. In the old days that would have been enough to stop the job altogether as the side chute would have gummed up immediately. Fortunately the side of the mower has rusted enough and there are enough holes in the frame that gumming up is less of a problem. It just flings the cuttings any old where. But the engine still had problems even at full throttle.
The method I used was the half-cut. Instead of running the mower parallel to the last cut I just ran over the bit I had previously cut and pared a bit off the adjacent long grass. So I went round and round [and round and around] cutting a little more each time.
All the dandelions, raspberries, oak and birch saplings not to mention very long grass are toast. The field is now just covered in silage and looking a thousand times better..
On a side note, why does “toast” mean gone?
And if “half cut” means half pissed, does “cut” mean completely langered? I’ve never heard of anyone coming out of a pub described as “cut”.
Anyways, whatever about today, yesterday was really a Good Thursday.
I’ve never heard ‘moxy’ before – what does it mean?
‘dimsey’ is the oddest word I use – do you know it
My understand moxy [or moxey] to mean, ballsy, hefty or massive. It must be a slang that is particular to Dublin as I heard/used it many times in my misspent youth, nealy always as “a moxy load [of drink or whatever]”. The Interwebs doesn’t seem to know about that version, but then it doesn’t know everything?
I haven’t come across Dimsey before. Dusk? Twilight? It’s a nice word. I must add it to my lexicon.
I spent at leat 15 minutes trying to start my motor mower. Pull the starter, nothing, again nothing and so on for another 2 minutes at the end of which my arm was sore. Rest for a couple of minutes and try again. After almost 10 minutes a bloop and burble ! It was coming to life ! Another rest of my right arm and back into the fray. A hard pull and and spurt of smoke ! Another hard pull and we are off !
You have my sympathy. My mower may be electric start but my strimmer must be related to your mower. It’s a bugger to fire up. Your description is perfect!
The answer lies in the petrol, especially if it’s been hanging around in a can for more than a few weeks…
I nearly broke my arm, leg, middle finger and spirit trying to start a tiller after the winter lay-off, and resorted to traipsing around to get half a gallon of the real stuff, and after two pulls, she started first time…;0~