The Smell Of Grass, The Taste Of Cutting The Mustard…

Finally, Spring has sprung.

This means that this sad, miserable, wanna-be old git, is starting to shake his booty, wash the sleep from his eyes, move on up like a mowing machine. You got it in three…

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Yup, Evans on Earth is going to take to the gardens of East Yorkshire again with a special line in lawn-care, landscaping, and overall love and fascination with all things-fauna. And it will be starting to rock with this somewhat surprising beauty.

“He a crazy man,” I hear a group of Spaghetti-Western extras cry.

“He loco.”

“No, he just live the vida-loca.”

My missus, who is not a Spaghetti-Western extra, thinks that I am a little odd to want to turn a party bus into sedate vehicle for the trimming and treatments of lawns for the discerning customer. I do not agree. I think that this little number will be the Formula One of the one-stop grass-caring community.

“Evans On Earth, copy.”

“I hear you Cape Kennedy.”

“In thirty seconds, we are clearing you for blast-off.”

“Copy, Kennedy. Am ready and waiting.”

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And with those words, the intrepid traveller launched himself into the rest of his life…

 

6 thoughts on “The Smell Of Grass, The Taste Of Cutting The Mustard…

  1. This needs more… Happy ventures!
    Bright Future.
    Now when a certain someone goes to work
    He goes as a kind of green-fingered Captain Kirk,
    For with the Spring comes a bright new Enterprise,
    A transition to a van of spectacular hue and size.
    We wish you well as you boldly go forth,
    Cutting a swathe through the green verdant North,
    So, wave and toot should you see a lurid green van pass,
    Its Evans, off cutting the grass, happily cutting class.

    Liked by 1 person

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