Getting eggs-cited about eggs-ercise!

One bright Easter morning, two brave Celts blazed a trail through the beautiful Blaise Castle Estate on their bikes (doggo shield, activate!) to help Mrs. S with her overgrown garden. Given the copious amounts of freshly-cut grass on offer, it was a shame Charlene’s bunny wasn’t able to join us. Next mission, perhaps?

What should one do when the petrol mower doesn’t start? Try the strimmer. And if that’s out of action too? Then, hopefully, you have a nifty electric mower, and a trained eggs-spert on hand … never has grass been so terrified. Meanwhile, Patrick had found his calling and was turning soil like nobody’s business ... some grumpy worms were denied their customary Easter Sunday lie-in. Tea was served by our lovely host, with a grass garnish … thanks Charlene!

After emptying the mower’s tiny grass catcher X times (where X is >= 100) and tidying up, we bid farewell to Mrs. S. and hit the road. Given the amount of excruciatingly steep hills on the return leg, the real Easter miracle is that we both made it home with our lungs intact! :-)