There can sometimes be an uneasy emptiness to these long summer evenings. Dinner quickly out of the way, the garden lures you in, till you remember the long list of horticultural chores that you have successfully ignored for the last few weeks. But it has been raining a lot, flooding in some parts of the country. Positively dangerous getting the lawn mower out in such conditions. And anyway, a slightly unkempt lawn is probably helping to support a much richer ecosystem. Rather like a hedgerow; only shorter.
But deep within, you know the real reason for this neglect. And tonight you have no excuse: an evening without football. We are becalmed; in the doldrums between quarter finals and semi finals. And to twist the rusty knife a further turn, England were knocked out yesterday. Deservedly so, you might say, if you were being coldly analytical about it all. But still a shame to see some flickerings of talent in the first half, only to be cruelly extinguished in the second. And throughout extra time. And during the penalty shoot out. So, feeling out of sorts by these sorry events, how do you expect me to apply myself wholeheartedly to the garden? There is nothing worse than mowing in a mildly depressed state. Better to wait till I can do it justice. And there is always a chance of rain returning.
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