Lawnmower beer: 2011
You may have a lawn the size of a paddock or a postage stamp. You may edge with sharp shears or a clumsily-wielded strimmer. You may ride upon your mower or push the recalcitrant bastard up and down a slope that makes Carolina Cherry seem like a bowling green.
And you may ask yourself: why do I love mowing?
And you will tell yourself: lawnmower beer.
Sticky grass still on your fingers. The sun fading over next door's fence. And a cold beer straight from the fridge, probably not making it as far as a glass before you guzzle three greedy gulps. And then, sigh. Beery contentment.
This year's lawnmower be for me is Brewdog Punk IPA. Yes, it ain't what it used to be and it ain't as bitter and it's alcoholic Um Bongo blah blah meh. I know all those things. I've said all those things.
And I don't care.
In the way that when I spot a clump of stubborn grass that's sprung back up in the lawn's far corner, I don't jump up to scythe it down. It lives to be mown another day.
And you may ask yourself: why do I love mowing?
And you will tell yourself: lawnmower beer.
Sticky grass still on your fingers. The sun fading over next door's fence. And a cold beer straight from the fridge, probably not making it as far as a glass before you guzzle three greedy gulps. And then, sigh. Beery contentment.
This year's lawnmower be for me is Brewdog Punk IPA. Yes, it ain't what it used to be and it ain't as bitter and it's alcoholic Um Bongo blah blah meh. I know all those things. I've said all those things.
And I don't care.
In the way that when I spot a clump of stubborn grass that's sprung back up in the lawn's far corner, I don't jump up to scythe it down. It lives to be mown another day.
I think it's going to be lawn mowers that you sit on and drink beer while driving.
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